In my profile, I say that " I... grew up around alcoholism, depression, divorce, and in relative affluence." and that "I may tell you about it sometime."
How 'bout I start with Divorce, with a bit of Alcoholism thrown in?
So. My parents have three separate divorces between them. I am the epitome of a child of divorce. *Joy.*
Both my parents were married and divorced before I was born. I don't know much about the man that my mother married, but I do know that she was very young, and the marriage was very short-lived. He died about ten years ago.
My father's first wife was a high-school sweetheart of sorts. It ended only weeks after the birth of my brother (who, I'm sure, will be the subject of another too-personal post at some point), with great animosity (which lives on today in the insecurities of my brother's mother), and for almost-identical reasons to those that ended my parents' marriage.
My parents started dating only a few months after my father was banned from the lives of his wife and son. I imagine that it was an exhilarating and exciting time for them. (My father was a brilliant singer and pianist on top of being a very fit and well-spoken man. I imagine that my mother was thrilled to have found such a catch, someone she could start a family with.)
Fewer than two years after my parents started dating, my mother became pregnant with me. (She has always said that it was a planned pregnancy, but I've never been sure.) During the pregnancy, my (Catholic) grandmother strongly urged them to marry, so the big event was planned for three weeks before my mother's due date. I was a week-old newborn at my parents' wedding.
I'm not sure when the problems started. I expect that they were apparent before my mom even got pregnant. But I suppose people tolerate strange things when they're in love with a dream.
My father turned out to be an adulterer. And an workaholic. And he threw in a nasty case of alcoholism to spice things up. It couldn't have been easy for his wives.
(Note: My father was never physically or verbally abusive toward anyone. Many people have a hard time understanding that. But horribly drunk certainly doesn't have to be hateful.)
Sometime before my little brother was conceived, my mother told him to end it with the women. I'm not sure if she made any similar request about the alcohol. I don't know if anything actually ended for any length of time.
(Note 2: I don't remember any of the "bad" stuff. My mother taught us to be very careful around alcohol because of the possibility of inherited tendencies, but that was the extent of what she told us as children. And it still drives her crazy that all my earliest memories are of playing with my dad, or listening to him sing or play the piano. I was a daddy's girl who was taken care of almost exclusively by her mother.)
When my little brother was born, my mother had me stay with a neighbour because she didn't trust him to take care of me while she was in hospital; Somehow, she didn't think a drunk/passed-out man could handle a four-year-old. (I had no idea why she had me stay with neighbours until I made a comment to my dad when I was about 13 saying that I remembered staying across the street; he said that it was because of the drinking. It just hadn't occurred to me until then.)
About a year after my brother was born, my mom had a babysitter watch us while she was out and while my dad was at work. When she got home, the babysitter was gone and my father was passed out. That's when she kicked him out.
My mother dictated every detail of the divorce. She kept everything and he was responsible for child support. (My mother is a professional, so she had an excellent job to fall back on. Thank goodness.) Over the next 8 years, my father would occasionally see us to take us to musicals, opera, and the theatre. We visited him at his home a couple of times sometime after he sobered up. I was 13 the last time he made an effort to see us. (After that, I invited him to both my high-school graduation and my wedding reception. We've also seen each other at the funerals for each of his parents. And twice, just for a visit, with the support of my older brother. I also saw him in hospital when we thought he was dying.)
Despite his relatively young age, my father is now a very old man. And at some point, he started drinking again. I expect that the alcohol, along with a myriad of other very serious health problems has made him into the man he is today. (I don't think he's able to drink anymore because his body won't tolerate it, but he's still wasted away... And I only know what my mother and brother tell me.)
My mother remarried when I was 12 years old. Her husband is a good man. And she is still an incredible woman. (She takes my father to doctor's appointments when he needs it. She did the same for my paternal grandmother. She also made sure that he was comfortable when he was very sick in hospital. And she does this with no hard feelings, and no regrets. She is a move forgiving woman than I am.)
So... that's part of my story. I think that my independence, my aloof nature, and my intolerance is largely borne from growing up seeing... this. I think that my luck(?) with men can also be traced to here; I can honestly say that every single one of the men that I've been involved with have been truly good men, because I've never tolerated anything less.
