In 2009 my parents divorced. I was only 12 years old.

The divorce affected our family in so many ways. There was always a lot of arguing. A lot of one parent saying things to us about the other parent, or saying that there was someone else tearing our family apart. It wasn’t uncommon for me to believe that the divorce was my fault because of something that I did. I always knew that it wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t help but think that it was. It was always hard to wrap my head around the concept that my parents wouldn’t be married anymore, that I would be living with one more than I would the other, and that I might be moving to a new house.

Everyone would always tell me how amazing it must be to have two homes with two beds, and two of everything, how awesome it must be to get two Christmases with a ton of presents and two birthdays. While it seemed to be awesome and amazing, it wasn’t. Christmas was a day of constant moving back and forth between houses and different sides of the family. I never had clothes at my dad’s house, so I always had to pack a bag and hope that I didn’t forget something. We had scheduled days that we would go to my dad’s house like every Tuesday, every other Thursday, and every other weekend. It was confusing to figure out who’s weekend it was.

I didn’t know that I would be moving three times before getting into a house that could be a home. When the divorce first happened my mom, my sister and I moved into an apartment complex in the village of Marcellus. This was the first time I have ever lived somewhere other than a house. After there, we moved into another apartment that was also in Marcellus. After that, we moved into a real house. It was my mom, Paul, Bella, and I. This would hopefully be our last move.

The divorce hasn’t always been bad. Most of my teachers knew about the divorce, and knew that there could be nights where I wouldn’t be able to get my homework done, so I would get an extra day to get it done. I definitely used that to my advantage, and even said that I couldn’t get it done even though I could have. To all those teachers of mine, I’m sorry!

Do I ever wish that my parents were still together? Well, yes of course, but that just can’t happen because both parents are happy with how their lives are and I couldn’t ask for anything other than that.

I don’t think that being a child of divorce has affected me in a bad way or made me weak. It has made me strong and has proven that I am independent and just as stubborn as my mother.