I don’t have a podcast episode this week—too much going on!—but I didn’t want to miss my weekly target. So, here is a short story I wrote in 2018.
Yes, I’m divorced. And yes, I have friends and family who are divorced. This is not based on any one person’s experience. It’s a mash-up of real life.
I hope it brings comfort to anyone who has felt these things. And I hope it offers insight to anyone who struggles to understand how divorced parents feel during a holiday season.
~ D
“Imagine spreading everything you care about on a blanket and then tossing the whole thing up in the air. The process of divorce is about loading that blanket, throwing it up, watching it all spin, and worrying what stuff will break when it lands.” ~ Amy Poehler
We rarely see each other, but we speak daily—mostly through text—today, we spoke over the phone. Some things took too long to type out, were too painful for a screen, and needed a reassuring voice on the other end.
“He’s the worst,” said my friend, Jenny. “It’s all about control, about winning. He doesn’t think of the boys- not ever. He only thinks about himself.”
I knew from our messages leading up to this exchange that she was really upset. As parents, what triggers us more than our kids? As recent divorcées, what triggers us more than our exes? As Western Christians, what triggers us more than Christmas? Throw it all together, and you have yourself a right shit sandwich. My friend needed an ear, nothing more.
“What happened, love?” I asked, my tone even.
She huffed. “Greg. Greg the atheist happened. Christ, we have never shared Christmas because he never cared about it. He literally thinks it’s all BS. Except now he has a Christian girlfriend. So guess who suddenly wants to split Christmas?!”
“Oh dear,” I whispered.
“Oh yeah! The guy who wanted to tell our kids there was no Santa Claus when they were four and six, now conveniently wants to buy into the whole thing to appease his new woman! I am beyond pissed right now, Danielle. Be-yond!”
I took a deep breath. “Honey, I don’t blame you. This is unexpected and must feel threatening.”
“It feels awful!” she exclaimed. “The boys and I have traditions—things we’ve been doing for years, and now it all has to change and for what? Greg is so fake. It makes me sick. Why should the kids have to change their holiday traditions just because their father wants to change his?”
It was not a question she truly wanted an answer to, so I stayed silent.
Jenny’s voice was tight with emotion. “I hate this. I hate being divorced. Like, I don’t want to be married to him, but I hate the splitting, the constant compromising, the incessant questioning of his motives. I hate that the kids are like leaves in the wind. Ugh, I want better for them.”
“Of course you do,” I soothed.
Her voice tightened. “They’re better off with me.”
Again, I stayed silent.
“Damn, did I just say that?”
I kept my tone soft. “Yeah, honey.”
She sighed. “Damn, I guess that’s what I feel beneath all of this. I know I make Christmas great for them, and they love it. It’s warm, festive, and predictable. My parents come down from Barrie. We bake and play carols. My boys love it. And Greg wants to rip them from that.”
“I see.”
She took a long pause, and I let it stretch. “He’s just trying to impress this girl. It’s all fake. And my boys have to suffer for it.”
“I’m so sorry, Jenny. The kids always seem to be the ones who have to deal with all the change, don’t they? I know my kids wish they could do it *all* every year.”
She sniffed back tears. “What do you tell them?”
I shrugged. “Not much, honey. Just that I understand. I also make sure they realize that none of this is their fault. Other than that, I just try to listen. They end up coming around and realizing on their own that they get loads of love and attention and a bunch of Christmases.”
“Well, my boys are not going to like this. Not one bit. And I hate being party to their disappointment.”
“Of course…”
She let out a cry. “I”m going to miss them so much. I hate Greg for making us all feel this way.”
“Wish I could hug you…”
Again, she took a long pause. “I’m afraid, Danielle. I don’t want to show up to Christmas stuff without them. My sisters will have their kids with them… Ugh, why does this hurt so much?”
I breathed. “Because it matters.”
“Yeah,” she said in agreement. “It does. And I know I need to come around. I need to support them and hold space for however they are going to feel about this.”
“You’re amazing. Such a good mom.”
Jenny sighed. “Thanks.”
“And you’re welcome to our place, okay?”
“Thanks, but honestly, I’ll be in no shape for company. Think I’ll just drown myself in Bailey’s and watch A Christmas Story.
“Damn, girl. You are better at this Christmas thing.”
She laughed out loud. “Go away.”
💚❤️
