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First Person – archive

Divorce hits grown-up children, too

by Penny Foxwell

On the lawyer’s forms it was a relief to say that there were no children involved. That question at least  was ‘not applicable’ – on paper. But in reality the break-up of a marriage that had seen three sons through every stage of childhood, youth and into adulthood involved the whole family. The divorce, acrimonious and unexpected, forced each son and his wife to make choices quickly and instinctively while suffering from shock, confusion and disillusionment. For me, their pain was almost more unbearable than my own. There was one way through the mess – straight talking was the only way to preserve our relationships and help each other move on.

My husband and I worked together running a large charity and church and so it was a very public split. People took sides. Rumours and gossip spread lies and distortion. The boys, aged 28, 26 and 22,  were all involved and my youngest son and his wife lost their jobs as a result of standing by me. My eldest son and his wife supported me, too, but my middle son vehemently defended his father.

It is hard to watch your children in pain; it makes no difference that they are older and have their own lives. Honesty and huge amounts of courage are the only way through. Having watched two of my sons get married I thought that I had come to terms with the change in my relationship with them. Now I had to let go and trust them as never before.

I knew that several things were vital to our survival:

1. I had to choose to be real, to be as honest as I knew how to be, however much it hurt.
2. I needed to establish healthy boundaries. This was particularly important with my middle son. For the sake of our future relationship I could not allow him to be abusive to me. I chose to respect his prerogative to make his own choices.
3. I had to be patient and understand the importance of timing. It would take time for the reality of the situation to become clear, for hearts to heal, anger to be resolved and relationships rebuilt.

As the leaders of a church we were expected by other people to be a ‘perfect’ family – and this notion needed to be corrected. Long evenings had us sitting by the fire in my rented cottage, reminiscing about childhood days. Straight talking allowed us to voice the disappointments and the mistakes as well as the joys of the past. This brought healing, gently reminding us of the unconditional acceptance at our foundation. We laughed and cried. Greatly comforted, childhood stayed secure and intact, and we became very close.  

I had to be honest about what had happened in our marriage, and this forced me out of denial and pretence. I understood and came to terms with many things. The boys were very straight with me too; I had to face their memories and their pain. I chose to do this rather than give in to the desire to protect myself from the discomfort of acknowledging my mistakes as a parent. It hurt! But such a sense of freedom came as we expressed and explored, forgave and were forgiven. Gradually  there was more laughter than tears. We watched each other grow in confidence and self-awareness.

Waiting for the right time was particularly hard with my middle son who was completely estranged from me for many months. We had always had a very special bond and I was determined to rediscover it. Slowly I began to make contact with him, and each time we were able to be more honest. I have resisted the desire to set things straight, to tell him the truth or correct him. We are rebuilding an honest, adult and strings-free relationship, based on shared childhood memories and our mutual interests in writing, painting and exploring. It has been the greatest joy to see him coming through as the person I have always loved, enjoyed and appreciated.

No-one can predict the future. What happened to me was a shock and a complete testing of everything that I had thought was secure. Facing it, accepting it and being determined not to lose the people I love most was the only way through for me. This was the bravest choice I could make. When I was a child I would hide behind the sofa when the television showed Doctor Who to avoid facing my fear! I was brought up to keep the peace, to take responsibility for others and make them happy. I thought that loving people meant that you said what you thought they wanted to hear, that you made life as easy for them as possible and hid your own feelings for fear of rejection and ridicule. In confronting my divorce, however, straight talking has been a deliberate choice. It is straight talking that has brought healing and acceptance within my family – and straight talking has introduced me to myself.