Living A Double Life: Finding Balance
How divorce let to my eventual life crisis.
I was born in Memphis, TN. I grew up there for about 10 years, and a lot of it shaped who I am today.
In fact, I often bring up that my next door neighbors cooked meth when conversation gets dull!
Memphis was full of life, and vivacious events and people. The rough edges peeked through during the evening news, but my parents skirted around it while I was young.
My parents divorced when I was 2. I grew up knowing them as Mom or Dad. Never Mom and Dad. In fact, saying that makes me want to cough up a hairball.
Most people end up a blend of their parents. Growing up in an environment created by two people is much, much different than growing up in one.
From the second I can remember, I’ve been two people.
My dad’s house was all microwave meals and messing around too late. Playing video games and acting like idiots. Relaxing and sharing music together.
My mom’s was family home cooked dinners, spending more time in my room, grading papers with my mom, and school responsibilities.
My parents both remarried, both to people who fit into these lives we made.
Some parts of myself carried between the two houses. My passions at the time, whatever that was, my love for sleeping in, and my habit for buying copious amounts of ice cream.
My dad’s house in the summer of 2020 was probably the most relaxed I’ve ever felt. I have multiple anxiety disorders, so it wasn’t all serene, but nevertheless.
I woke up late, spent all day drinking iced coffee and reading while my dad worked in the other room. At night we watched reality TV and I ate a bowl of ice cream. Rinse and repeat.
One of the things I loved most about my father was that he never made me feel stupid. Whatever I loved, he loved.
Taylor Swift tour videos? Playing.
One Direction? On rotation.
Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson life size cutouts? In the living room.
Especially in that summer, I never felt dumb. I felt loved.
I was finding pieces of myself, such as my passion for politics and basic human rights. I was supported.
That summer I found the gentle side of who I was. The silly idiot who sang Taylor Swift while cooking stir-fry.
Of course, the reverse of her existed somewhere.
It’s kind of like my personal Multiverse of Madness.
My mom’s house includes a lot of solitary time. I like it that way, I’m a private person and I’ve always been very independent.
Because I spent most (now all) of my time at my mom’s, I went through my toughest times here.
Here, I’m not as vulnerable, not as gentle. Here, I had to be tough to keep going. Being at my mom’s meant finding the hard worker, the fighter, the determined girl.
For 16 years, these two young women co-existed in peace. Then my father died.
One of the things I began to struggle with during grief was that I’ll never be who I was with my dad again.
Grieving meant learning to blend the two people I had become, while they battled each other.
Do I give people second chances or cut them off? Do I make drastic life decisions or let things run their course? Do I speak my mind or keep it down?
Striking a balance was difficult. I had to come to some conclusions I didn’t like:
I’ll never be as vulnerable as I was with my dad.
I’ll never be as tough as I was with my mom.
I’m losing half of my life, and half of myself.
Alas, time moves on and so do we. I blended. I let go of my second life and focused on improving the first instead of running away.
We’ll see who I really end up being down the line. I guess we have to read and write to find out.
