My experience of this is a strange one that I still debate a lot over and over in my mind. My parents were highschool sweethearts who divorced amicably when I was a toddler, both were successful business people at the time. I went 5–6 years without hearing any word from Dad which was fine because I didn’t know any better, he turned up when I was 8 years old and proceeded to have a decent part of my time for the next 8 years. I would go and visit him in the south of England maybe 5–6 times a year for a week or so and he would show me great things I wouldn’t be able to see in the countryside of the north, he even moved to Holland for a couple of years and that was pretty enlightening for a young teen, too.
By the time I was 16 my mum’s marriage was long failing and dying it’s last death, but a couple of years prior to that my dad and I had been talking about me moving south to live with his new wife and my visits to his place became more of a ‘buttering up’ to their lifestyle. I was excited for this move for a long time, right up until the divorce was official with my mum (whose success by the way had faltered significantly). I now had to decide between this new wealthy lifestyle with my dad (whose success had skyrocketed) and abandon my mum to some guy I’d never met in this old, tired town on the coast, OR stay with my mum during this all important transition and disappoint my dad by dismissing 2 years of preparation.
The decision was pretty horrible and as a 16 year old I think my emotions had overridden my logic. I stayed with my mum, effectively dropping down a social class and cutting out many opportunities for myself, just to stay comfy.
Do kids really need both parents’ families to be their family?
Yeah, I loved having two families, it was brilliant, right up until I had to choose between the two.
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Wow, I can’t believe I just shared all that from the guilt-vault in my head.