For the longest time, all I wanted was a complete family. Ever since I was a kid, my parents had always been barely there for me physically. I was already living with my grandma since I was one year old up until I moved to Canada when I was 17. My parents used to work at Malitbog, my mom as a nurse and my dad as a policeman. I used to only see them every weekend, from Saturday morning until Sunday evening, with some random Friday nights. When I was in Grade 4, my mom had to leave for Saudi Arabia and my dad finally got reassigned at Cagayan de Oro. Since then, I would only see my mom one month every year. My dad who now lives in the same house as I do barely comes in contact with me. As a policeman, he worked odd hours and would often come home tired and went straight to sleep. Growing up, this was my reality. I envied those kids who comes home to mom and dad and have their family dinner every night. It was my grandma who took care of me when I was sick and stayed up late to take care of me, not my mom. It was my grandma who comforted me about entering high school and made me feel not alone, not my dad.
When I moved to Canada, I thought everything would have changed. After years of being separated from each other, we’re all finally living together. This was my wish coming true. But not even a week since we’ve arrived, both my parents were in each other’s throat. They were constantly fighting and it was obvious that there was a strain on their relationship. I thought they could fix it like adults. But no, they were fighting and ignoring each other. I was in the middle of all of this, in a strange country with no friends to support me. I tried calling friends from the Philippines to vent, but they were either busy from school work or were just fake ass. So I kept everything in, listened to both sides arguing and managed to develop anxiety. What an accomplishment.
Around the third month of us arriving, my dad moved out of the apartment. My mom’s side boy started coming more frequently and tried to get into my good side. He’s cool now but at that time, I saw him as a pest. In my head, he was the main reason my parents broke up. But then again, my mom had been abroad alone for years now so she could have had a couple of side boys. I was livid and suffering. I can’t even tell my grandma to whom I really wanted to vent out to. If there’s anyone in the world who could comfort me well, it was her. But I couldn’t so I kept up the facade that everything was okay and my parents were just living separately because of work. My dad eventually told her and when I talked to her after that, I broke down and it gave me comfort that I didn’t have to lie to her anymore.
Growing up as a Catholic, I was told that divorce is sin. Two people were married in the name of God, so you can’t break that. That is bullshit. Marriage is a contract that can and should be null and void if two people find that they can’t live and love each other anymore. Living together with people who have strong desires to go on their own separate ways is stressful. Every night I would hear my mom complain about my dad and it was my job to comfort her. In the morning, I would go to my dad and stay with him so he doesn’t feel unloved. In the middle of it all was me and since I’m an only child, it was my job to balance my time and attention between them. I didn’t want them to see I had favorites because I didn’t. If they asked where I was gonna live, my mom or dad, I had no problem going back to my grandma.
Anyways, to anyone who says divorce is sacrilegious and is a great sin, I would recommend you shut the fuck up because most time, you don’t know what’s happening behind close doors and happy pictures.