My real mom and dad divorced when I was in the 6th grade. It always makes me sad thinking about the day when my parents called us into their room and told us that we were going to move. My brothers and sisters cheered in happiness at the good news. We were all so small that we didn’t know that this meant my parents were separating. At that moment I couldn’t figure out why my mom was frantically crying in the corner. Then my parents told us that they were getting a divorce. I don’t remember a time since that I have ever hugged my mom tighter. My mother stayed in paradise and my dad took us to live in Chico. The court ordered that I was to stay with my dad and allowed to visit my mother every other weekend. This was because my dad was the breadwinner and my mother was a stay-at-home. She was never given the opportunity to go to college and get a better job because she had my half brother at the early age of 16. During my 2 years at Marsh Junior High my dad met this new lady and married her. Trying to get used to a new mother is the worst thing that could happen to a teenager. I didn’t want a new mother. I couldn’t go to this lady and feel comfortable saying everything. I couldn’t tell her about my first kiss or tell her about that girl I had a crush on in math class. Going through high school was complete hell. My step-mom wouldn’t stop for one second and shut the hell up. She could nag the paint off the wall. Things got worse as I matured during my senior year. My step mom turned into an alcoholic. Not a violent one but one that couldn’t function unless she had her hard alcohol. She “recovered” and chalked it all up to be an accident. That’s like the accident equivalent of cooking 300 screaming babies in a microwave programmed to ask you if you might be cooking babies in it. This was the final blow to the last ounce of respect I had for her. Now in my house she is invisible to me. I don’t see her standing in front of me yelling at me to clean my bedroom. I see the ugly-ass leopard print wallpaper the previous owners left in my room that we were both to lazy to take down. To this day I regret not telling my dad that the minute I met her I hated her. I still haven’t. And I just hope that for any of you that still might have the chance that you do it. As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a mom. I used to but not anymore. A mother, the person who gave birth to me, yeah I have one of those. Matter of fact she called me a week ago and asked to help pay for college. A baby step to any sort of effort to playing a role in my life. I believe that parents are the most important thing in anybody’s life. They are the hands that mold the clay to the young man or woman that you have become. So parents before you decide to end your wedlock. Think about the life you two made and how much you are going to rip it apart. That’s what I believe. I’m done.
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