When my parents broke up

Although I was older than my brother when my parents divorced, I was younger. At that age I am walking hand in hand and I know I will meet my father on weekends. Saturday means my dad. Don’t go out, get some air, eat whatever you want, maybe don’t mind. My brother was not always with us.

I knew that my mother and father both loved us very much. But it took me a while to figure out the ‘it doesn’t happen if it doesn’t happen’ problem. People want to see their loved ones together, I’ve always felt that. At the end of the day, when my dad was walking down the street, I would look back until he was out of sight. Sometimes he looked and shook. She was trying to make me laugh. There was a time when I laughed so that she would be happy. But that journey will make me sad until next Saturday. I dreamed of holding my father in my right hand and my mother in my left hand. It takes a long time to describe these feelings. I struggled a lot with another emotion that shut me down the most and kept me hidden. I also had feelings for other children. It’s a condition I didn’t recognize.

For a long time I thought my parents had done something wrong. Wrong. Defective. Defective. While everyone else was normal, I committed suicide with the feeling that I was feeling something to blame. And that’s why I lied so much. And that’s why I sometimes don’t love myself.

I have heard many stories of my parents with my child’s heart. My relatives talked when they thought I was sleeping. They are so in love. They have been together for many years. They fall together. Won together. They have traveled together. Acquaintances said, how come? It ends in a moment. They also did not harm these children. I learned from that conversation that I should be kind. They both still love us, they never left us with any feelings or needs. But to others, this tragic situation made me feel different. In fact, as they both say, if divorce is so possible and common, why do people talk so much? We should not point fingers.

When I first started school, the two of them were with me and the fact that we took pictures together made me feel my innermost feelings more easily. Many years later, we were smiling and happy in the same frame. My dad wasn’t walking down the street when I was meeting the other kids. She was with me now. Here’s my dad. I said it’s my mother. I hid their separation for a long time. Many years later, I kept a picture of my father in the living room for my close friend who came to my house. I made it because he was on a business trip. He became the one who saw my father with his girlfriend from afar. She thought it was my mother next to her. I didn’t fix it. After a while he also became my mother’s boyfriend. Comparing the two with my father, my father seemed more handsome. Acquaintances were angry that they introduced us to them because the children would be harmed. Also, those distant relatives thought my parents were still married. We were living a secret life in our own world so that other people’s feelings could not be heard too much and their voices could not be seen. We were ruled by the emotions of others, and we were afraid to be the subject of other people’s homes. So we were the most peaceful people in the world when I would come home with my mother and no one would talk on the phone, no one would knock on our door.

I desperately wanted to turn around, say goodbye to my dad, and say goodbye to someone else to make a living. I am not angry with my mother or father. If I ever had a child, I would tell him to live with his own truth, and I would tell my brother. No one should be the guardian of anyone’s life. ”

I wanted to write from a child’s inner voice. I have noticed that the feelings of others hurt our injured parts more. It’s as if we sometimes hurt the one we love the most with the feelings of others. What can I say, wave boy, wave wave, all the wounds you know, the feeling you’re forcing.

Expand your mind

Close your eyes and think that there is a place where you want to pack your things. Do you have time, opportunities are limited, or if so, are you stuck?

Open your life

How does it make both you and the other person happy to say ‘have a good day’ to people you don’t know on the street or on the street? Have you ever tried it?


What do you usually do in the waiting room, on the train, on the bus or on the plane, in short, wherever you meet the time?

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