But What About The Kids?

Growing Up in Chaos

When I was younger, I used to wish my parents would get divorced. I used to wish for somewhere that felt like home.

Instead, I found peace in my room, with music turned up high to drown out the screaming, the shouting, the slamming doors. The packed suitcases that never went anywhere. Just the same cycle of empty threats to leave and silent tension. They’d use me and my younger brother as pawns in their fights, dragging us into their chaos. I’d put headphones on him to try and silence it all. Sometimes, we’d arm ourselves with coat hangers, just in case their rage spilled over and physically came our way. That was our version of safety. That was our normal.

We always felt on edge when they’d gone out for the night. Me and my brother would sit waiting, bracing for what would come through the door. The screaming matches, accusations of cheating, the drunken battles that echoed through the walls. We never knew what we were coming home to, or what was coming home to us.

They never did get divorced. He died the day before their 40th wedding anniversary. And his death became the beginning of my decision to break the cycle.

The Guilt That Keeps Us Stuck

Since I shared my last post, Should I Stay or Should I Go?, so many people have messaged me. And one thing keeps coming up again and again. But what about the kids?

It’s the question I was asked the most when I revealed I was separating. Usually with subtle judgment that played straight into my mum guilt.

Guilt is baked into parenthood. And aside from finances, it’s one of the biggest reasons people stay in relationships they don’t want to be in. Because they think it’s what’s best for the kids.

Why I Stayed Too Long

I went back and forth on that question for years. So I’m not pretending it’s an easy one. It’s not.

But here’s what I know. I stayed longer than I should have because I mistook toxicity for passion. I thought the hyper-vigilance and walking on eggshells were excitement. That the flutter in my chest was butterflies, not anxiety. It felt normal. It felt like love. Because it mirrored what I saw and felt growing up.

The Real Answer to ‘What About the Kids?’

That’s the danger in staying for the kids. We pass down dysfunction dressed up as love. We teach them that love is supposed to feel painful, unpredictable, and conditional. We show them how to survive it instead of showing them how to feel safe in it.

So when people ask, what about the kids? I tell them, it’s because of my kids that I left.

They gave me the strength to do it.

I didn’t want them growing up thinking what they saw between me and their dad was love. I wanted them to know love as calm. Peaceful. Safe. Like coming home.

And while I haven’t experienced that kind of love yet, I know they will. Because I chose to break the pattern.

You’re Not Alone

As a parent, making decisions is harder. It’s not just your life that’s affected. But being in a two-parent household isn’t always what’s best for a child. Especially if it’s not what’s best for you.

If this resonates, I’d love to hear your thoughts. And if you’re navigating your own shitshow, know this space is for you.

I’m building something for people who are ready to stop hiding, start healing, and rewrite what love and life look like. If that sounds like you, stick around. Join the conversation, follow along, and be part of the Aftershite space. Because we weren’t meant to figure this out alone.