I have been duly notified that a blog should have a set topic. Like is it a blog dedicated to cooking? Make up? Fashion? etc. etc.
Unfortunately… My blog is an eclectic mess of who I am. What interests me. The fleeting thoughts that shoot through my head like comets. Maybe that’s what this blog is about. Shooting stars.
Today, what has caught my fancy is Kim Kardashian’s amazingly flawless look at the Teen Choice Awards. Just look at it. It’s so fresh and clean and flawless and it’s simply breathtaking.
Normally, I’m all for the pretentiously deep posts. But today? I think I’ll like to just take the time to savour my final “teen year” and just be blissfully superficial and girly.
I was watching the Kardashians online last night and laughing at the comments made on the show simply because I’m watching it now in so-called “retrospect” and it’s funny because I know their marriage only lasted 72days and yet I’m hearing Kris Humphries go on about how he can see “Kim as the mother of (his) children”.
Which you know, brings me to my topic of the day. Divorce.
It’s a pretty life-changing word.
Let’s cue the sob story now, shall we?
Growing up, I never knew my dad because my parents got divorced when I was really young. Or is the legal term “separated”? Anyway. My folks split when I was about 4 and my brother still a cute little toddler. So when I say, I never knew my dad, I legit mean it. Even though back then I didn’t quite know what was going on, I still kind of blamed myself. I wanted to have dad because that’s what every other kid had. Loving parents.
I mean… My mom loved me plenty enough, but still. I guess I wanted to be “daddy’s little girl” and I felt robbed of it. I never got it, and it sucked. I’m not going to lie though. I’m not gonna say I blamed myself or that I always wanted to meet him or anything like that, because for the most part, in true children fashion, he barely crossed my mind. Out of sight and all that nonsense, after all. My father finally re-entered my life when I was 12 but that’s a whole other story. The point is that I never knew him, and I still don’t know him.
To me, he’s a stranger. A sperm donor. So he contributed half of my DNA… so what?
For my family, it was no big deal, because you can’t miss what you never had. And I never had a father. So to me, divorce was just a part of life. That’s not to say that I don’t get jealous when I see other girls with their dads. Or that I don’t feel like crying when I think about all the things that I’m missing out on by never having had a father. I’m a pretty sentimental person, but I’m also heartlessly practical, so I’m not going to say nonsensical stuff like “I wish he’d been there to see me do this or that”. I wish he’d been there, but because I wanted to have a father. Not because I want to bond with him or anything like that. Because Buddy, that ship is looooooooong gone.
But you know, just because my story is so radically different, doesn’t mean that it’s the same for everyone else. These days, there are so many children growing up in “broken” families. (In a side note, I’ve never bought into the term “broken family” before. In my mind, some families were just better even if they weren’t the stereotypical picket-fenced, suburb family that every child wants/craves.) But even though I grew up dreadfully happy, with all the things that a child from a dual-income family had and more, it still left its marks on my psyche.
I saw my mom and the way she worked so hard to make money to support my brother and I through all the things we wanted and I knew that when I grew up and got married and had my own family, it would be for forever. There would be no such dirty D word in my family.
My mom used to say that the “scars” in my psyche were all because I wanted there to be scars. In a way, perhaps. But she wouldn’t know. She came from a two-parent family. I may have been a pretty happy kid, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t suffer from some issues.
Like most kids who come from “broken homes”, I grew up too fast. I was forced into emotional maturity. And like most kids who grow up too fast, I suffer from unresolved anger issues, and relationship issues and commitment issues and you want to know something? It sucks.
Knowing that you’re going to bail from a relationship no matter how great that relationship is simply because you’re afraid of ending up like your parents, so you distance yourself and you find little ways of sabotaging what could be potentially something just so you don’t have to be in a relationship, so that you can screw up and say yea, it’s your fault, because that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Children from broken homes don’t know what real commitment looks like, so they take the easy way out. This may just be pop-psychology here, but speaking from personal experiences, I find it really hard to commit.
Maybe I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I’ve never seen a fully functional marriage before, so I have no idea how relationships are supposed to work. My mother is Wonder Woman. She does everything by herself, and having grown up believing that my mother is better than any man, definitely left an impact on the way I view relationships. But you know, my life is a little bit shy of f*cked up. I think I still turned out OK though. And that’s always the point.
Anyway, how does this tie into Kim Kardashian? Simple.
I think the moral that we can all walk away with from this “Fairytale Wedding” is that we should never get married in the spur of a moment. Because marriage is sacred. When you get married to someone, it should be because you can’t imagine spending a life without them. It should be when all you want is them, when they’re the person whom you know you can grow with and share things with and with whom you will never walk away from when you’re fighting. It should be with someone who’s going to be your best friend for life. Because marriage isn’t a short term affair. It should be permanent, like a tattoo. It shouldn’t be easy because marriages are never easy.
Ultimately, I think divorce is stupid. Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries are lucky that they were only married for 72 days and that they didn’t have kids. Children should never be left to examine the pieces left behind by hurricane Divorce.
It’s a grown up word thrown around by childish grown ups who don’t know how to deal.
In fact, if life was a playground and “grown ups” were still children, by schoolyard laws (or to use colloquial terms), divorce is essentially one child saying to the other: “I’m unfriending you!”
And who gets caught in the divide?
Yea… That’s right.