Mom, Dad…
There have been some big changes in our lives lately. I’m writing this because I can’t seem to find the right moment, the time, or the courage to talk to you directly. I know life is harder for you now that you’re living apart, ever since you separated. It’s hard for me, too, you know.
Mom, I often see you crying at night in your room. You think I’m asleep, but I’m having trouble falling asleep, too. There are all these new noises that I haven’t gotten used to yet. I’m not sure I like the new neighborhood, and I know you don’t either. There are cars driving right past my bedroom window, and I hear people shouting in the street when the bars close. I know full well that, given the circumstances, you had to take whatever was available and that you’ll move to a new place as soon as you get the chance.
Dad, you chose to move closer to your job. I’m happy for you, you know. You’ve been saying for a long time that you were sick of commuting through traffic every morning and evening. But for me, it’s more complicated. Yesterday, you weren’t happy that I came home so late from school. I’m still not used to having to take the city bus to get around. With my daily routine, I lost track of time and didn’t make it to the bus stop in time. I had to wait for the next bus. It stresses me out not knowing anyone, and I haven’t found any landmarks yet to make me feel safe on the ride to your place.
Please be careful when you’re talking on the phone with your friends or family. You often speak too loudly, and I hear you saying hurtful things about each other. You talk about your housing problems, your neighbors, your jobs—but mostly about how hard it is to get by on just one income. You often say how irresponsible the other person is, or how glad you are that you’re no longer together. I’ve even heard one of you say that you should never have been together in the first place—that it would have spared you a lot of trouble. You have no idea how I feel afterward when I’m standing in front of you, knowing what I’ve heard and having to keep it a secret.
When I hear that, I sometimes wonder if you’d be better off without me. That if I’d never been born, you might still be together… At the beginning of your separation, you’d sometimes ask me how I was feeling, how I was handling it. At first it was okay. But not anymore…
I find it hard not to have a home of my own. Think about it. I’m not at home; I’m either at my mom’s or at my dad’s… Never at home. Sometimes, I’d like to talk to one of you, to open up spontaneously like I used to. But I know that, for example, if I’m supposed to be at Dad’s, Mom will probably have made plans, and I’ll end up getting in the way of her plans—or vice versa. Now, when I want to be with one of you, I have to ask for permission, and I can tell that you don’t always appreciate it. Sometimes I even feel like I’m getting in the way or imposing myself on you.
Before, we had our life together—the three of us. Now you each have your own lives, going your separate ways. And I have mine. Actually, I have my own lives. I have one life at Mom’s house and another at Dad’s house.