With being an Adult Child of Divorce comes a healing journey that is complicated and messy, at best. This is the most succinct way to describe my own personal healing journey. It is one that I am very much still on, but I know that I am healing and am on the up and up. Like you, my journey has not been linear by any stretch of the imagination. It is one of many turns, bumps and painful feelings resurfacing—but that is because I, like you, am still healing. Healing is not linear;  however, the healing journey is always oriented towards heaven, so we are always headed heavenward in our healing. In this post, I will share six points that have been instrumental and life-changing—for me—in my journey towards healing.

Though I hid, self-protected and continued to wear the masks that I thought gave me some value, Jesus never stopped seeking the real me underneath.  He never abandoned me.  All the while, He was patiently working on me, preparing my very calloused and guarded heart to be broken again through the second loss of my dad.  But this break would be healing and redemptive, because it would finally let Love Himself enter in.  And He came in through another father, His father and now mine – Good St. Joseph.  I truly believe everything started with my simple prayer after that providential homily.  St. Joseph became the guardian of my healing journey and continues to be my strong and faithful pillar along the way, in both explicit and sometimes hidden ways.

Throughout Scripture, the images and language used to describe God frequently evoke two of the strongest attachment relationships that we can know as human beings—the relationship between a child and a parent, and the relationship between spouses.

From day one it seemed like my parents were divided over my name. Well at least my first name because both of them shared the same last name before marriage. Each parent wanted me to be named after their dad. As a result, one side of the family calls me David and the other Andrew. By the time I was four, this division was complete and definitive by way of their divorce. As most children of divorce, I certainly felt divided and split in two; exemplified by my two different beds, two different sets of clothes, two different sets of toys and two different first names. 

Day after day, You remain,

And slowly I begin to trust again.

I grow impatient,

You are steady and sure.

You are not afraid

Of my anger and accusations.

You do not run when it is hard.

You stay, You listen, You hear me.

You open my eyes,

And I see what I have always wanted.

Feel the courage to claim it and desire it.

You walk towards me.

And You hold my heart in pieces in Your hands.

Jesus, Jesus, I am scared.

Rescue me.

You awake and calm the storm

around me.

But there is still a storm

inside me.

You look at me and ask:

Will you show me your hurt?

Will you let me embrace you?

Will you accept my healing grace?

This poem is the fruit of that time of prayer in which God showed me how many voices I allow to control my life, my thoughts and perceptions of reality. And even more so, He showed me how I have a real choice as to what voice I choose to follow in my life.

I’m fifty-fife years old, and up until recently I spent most of my life after my parents’ divorce in pain and not knowing why. I also spent my life running from that pain— into the arms of men, towards the bottle, and literally running for exercise, all of which gave me a brief reprieve from my problems.

When my father left the family during my late teens, I fell right back into infancy: I was unable to call my father “dad” because “dad” was no longer present. And that translated to my relationship with God: I did not call God “Father” because it seemed that God left me, too.

But listening to Fr. Mike’s podcast over the past year, my perspective on what it means to come from a ‘good’ family has been completely changed. I have been immersed in a story about a family that is immensely broken and immensely beautiful: the family of God. 

I was at a crossroads. My heart ached for this love to be true, I wanted so badly to believe it was for me, but I was so scared what that might mean. How silly! My life had changed 180 degrees over those 7 years, so what the heck was I waiting for? What was I scared of? I was scared that God would change his mind, like I thought love did when my parents divorced when I just a baby...

I discovered at age eleven that my parents’ marriage was breaking up. The words “broken family” became my reality. Fear of abandonment and loneliness took over and silence filled my days as I continued my everyday childhood activities.  My father was busy living his life while my mother was totally overcome by sorrow and betrayal.  Being an only child, I became silent and quite withdrawn.  What a deep hole was being forged in my heart!