Real life: ‘I'm secretly glad that my parents are divorced’

Sarina's parents (22) have been divorced for almost five years. In hindsight, she knows that this was ‘only’ four years ago because she moved out of the house then, but if it were up to her, it could have happened much earlier.

‘I used to be amazed when I played at friends' houses. It was often so different there than at my home. My parents never spontaneously kissed each other. When I think back to my childhood, I can't remember ever seeing them have fun together. The giggles or something, or that they went out to dinner together once. For a long time, I thought that was how it was supposed to be, but by now I know better. It was a loveless family in which I grew up.

And that has always remained the case. When I went to high school, I became a terrible teenager for my parents. I was angry. Angry at them and angry at the world. They attributed it to the fact that I was just going through puberty and that I happened to be doing it very extremely. Later, when my parents separated, I talked about it again with my mother. That we both think it was a reaction to the home situation.

Because that had already deteriorated quite a bit. Not that I noticed much of it, they tried to play along as best as they could when I walked in. But we lived in Amsterdam in about eighty square meters and the walls are thin. I heard everything, and by pretending that nothing was wrong the moment I walked in, I became so angry. I felt taken for a fool.

My parents only argued. And that was mainly from my father's side. Nothing my mother did was good enough. I am an only child and when I was born, my mother took care of me for two years. That was done in good consultation with my father: he had the better job, childcare is also extremely expensive, so my mother stayed home for the time being. That 'for the time being' eventually became two years. After that, she resumed her work as a dental assistant.

A nothing job, my father thought, who was himself a commercial director at a large company. And you couldn't possibly be busy there. ‘Anyone can do what you do,’ he would say to my mother. And it came down to the fact that my mother was never allowed to complain about any busyness at work, because she knew nothing. My father, on the other hand, came home exhausted and threw a scene if dinner wasn't on the table yet. Ridiculous, he thought, because my mother really didn't have much else to do, did she? As I got older, I fled from this kind of tirades from my father. I preferred to smoke weed with my friends. To even more anger from my father.

‘A tyrant’ I often called him to my friends at school. From the age of sixteen, things really went downhill at home. He always had something to complain about my mother, who silently put up with everything. I became angry about it. ‘Stand up for yourself!’ I shouted at her. But she preferred to calm things down, not wanting it to escalate further. I really thought my mother was a wimp; if she wouldn't stand up for herself, why should I? And again I fled the house.

After I graduated from high school, I went backpacking through Southeast Asia. That meant I would be away from home for half a year, my parents had never been alone together for that long. During the trip, I mainly spoke to my mother. My father occasionally sent a message asking how things were here (‘Good’). When I came home, they wanted to eat with me as soon as possible.

And then the big news came out: they had filed for divorce. Two weeks (two weeks!) after I left, my mother had had enough. She packed her things and went to live with a friend. By now, it had been over five months and she had found her own rental house. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but especially not what I was seeing: my mother had completely blossomed after half a year. She looked strong and clear-eyed. A world of difference from the woman she had been for the rest of my life and whom I knew.

And now, almost five years later, I am so glad they are apart. They should have done this much earlier. The contact with my father is strained, he is very busy at work and is still the proud, grumpy, and especially arrogant guy he has always been. But my mother has become my best friend. I take city trips with her, often go out to eat with her, or just sit on the terrace — she is even very busy dating. I am so proud of her, but I also feel sad when I think of all those years in which she let herself be belittled. In hindsight, she said she didn't want to burden me with the sadness of a divorce. While this has caused me so much more sadness. And my father? Oh, he mainly complains that there is no food ready when he comes home. I sometimes wonder if he can really feel love.’

In this unusual time, we asked people for their honest story. To avoid hurting others, Sarina's name has been changed.