If you’ve ever been conflicted between your healing and your parents’ expectations, you’re not alone. I wasn’t prepared.
I was 24 when I received the call.
It was a sunny August evening, and I had just completed marking a stack of seventh-grade essays when my mother called to tell me she was leaving my father. Calm voice. Minimal detail. Simply: “I left.”
That’s when I understood my parents are divorcing, and everything I thought was secure suddenly felt precarious. I hung up the phone and sobbed in the center of my living room.
I was grown, so why did it hurt so much?
At 24, I was living on my own. I’ve paid my bills. I was creating a life with my fiancé. From the outside, I appeared to be doing all an “adult” should do.
When I told a few friends about my parent’s divorce, their reaction was… lacklustre.
“At least you’re not a kid.”
“You should be glad they waited until you were older.”
“You’ll be fine — you’ve got your own life now.”
They intended well. But all it did was make me feel as if my pain didn’t matter.
What those statements overlooked is that divorce does more than just terminate a marriage; it reshapes the entire family. And no matter how old you are, it may still feel like the ground is moving beneath you.
I grew up with a specific definition of “home”: untidy, imperfect, but familiar. The aroma of coffee on Sunday mornings. I would always skip the creaking stairs. My parents were squabbling one minute and then enjoying a movie together the next. That house existed in my mind like a map that I could always return to.
Until it suddenly stopped.
A single phone call threw everything into chaos. With one thread ripped, the entire fabric of my youth, my identity, and my feeling of family began to unravel — something I explore more deeply in how my parents’ divorce shaped me.
I was not stuck between custody arrangements. But no one had prepared me for the emotions I was experiencing. I felt loss, rage, and perplexity, as well as a peculiar sensation of shame for experiencing any of these emotions.
Shouldn’t I be past this?
Isn’t it supposed to hurt less because I’m an adult?
But here’s the truth I had to learn the hard way.
Growing up does not make heartbreak any easier. It merely makes things quieter.
I still cried. I still questioned everything. I was still unsure of what was true and what had been covered for my own protection. And I still missed a kind of home that would never come back.
The Hidden Grief of Adult Children
The grief was distinct. Neither loud nor visible. Just… hefty.
I missed them together. I miss coming “home” for holidays and not having to plan separate trips or walk on eggshells. I lost the notion that something was permanent, even if imperfect.
And I grieved in silence because I didn’t believe I was “allowed” to. Grief doesn’t disappear just because my parents are divorcing later in life instead of during childhood. The ache still finds you.
But I have since learned:
You do not need permission to mourn the death of a family unit.
Even if you are old enough to understand, the anguish is real.
What helped me start healing?
1. Naming the Loss without Guilt.
For the first two weeks, I attempted to remain “rational” about it.
This happens to so many individuals, I reminded myself. You are not a kid. You are OK.
But I wasn’t okay.
I could not sleep. My chest felt tight most mornings. I’d zone out at work and cry for no apparent reason while making dinner. My body held something my intellect refused to admit:
I was grieving.
Not a person, but a building. A system. A version of love I assumed would always be present.
Simply admitting it helped me begin the healing process:
“My parents are divorcing, and this hurts.”
I began writing with no structure—just thoughts pouring onto paper. There, I could say that I was perplexed, heartbroken, and even angry. I did not have to explain or justify it to anyone.
This was not about blaming either parent. It was about allowing yourself to feel the loss without feeling guilty or ashamed.
Photo by Alaksiej Čarankievič on Unsplash
2. Stopping the Emotional Parenting Cycle.
Nobody tells you how quickly you can become a therapist in your own family.
Following the divorce news, both of my parents began to visit me — not for updates or company, but to digest. To cry. To rant. Explain their view of what happened.
I wanted to be there. I wanted to help. I’d always been “the responsible one.”
But, over time, I realized something:
Their drive to unload overwhelmed my ability to mend.
I was being drawn into situations that were not mine to handle.
So I practiced setting new boundaries. I said things like this.
- “I love you, but I can’t be your sounding board right now.”
- “This is something I hope you’ll bring to your therapist.”
It felt selfish at first, but then it felt like liberation. I no longer had the emotional burden of two individuals attempting to reconstruct their lives while I tried to remain afloat in mine.
3. Maintaining Routine (In the Face of Change)
When your parents divorce, even as adults, it can feel as if everything you knew as “normal” vanishes overnight.
I did not influence what was going on in my family, but I did have power over how I presented myself in life.
So I kept showing up. I continued teaching. I still went to yoga. I kept my Tuesday book club going even though I didn’t have much energy to offer.
Routine became my anchor while navigating the emotional chaos of my parents are divorcing, not because it relieved my sorrow, but because it reminded me of who I still was.
Folding laundry, watering plants, and walking the dog can all be therapeutic.
It reminded me that, while their relationship had ended, my with myself remained intact – and worthy of maintaining.
4. Redefining “Family Time” and Holidays.
The first Christmas was awful. I sobbed while watching Hallmark advertisements. I feared getting holiday texts. I had no idea where I belonged, whose house to visit, or what traditions still “counted.”
But gradually, I began to make way for new things.
Rather than organizing a large meal, my fiancé and I went on a winter hike. We watched a cheesy movie and had a takeaway. Initially, it seemed strange and quiet. Peaceful.
This became our new beat.
New does not imply lower. Different does not mean broken.
I gave myself permission to discard the old family plan and begin designing my own.
5. Let Go of the “Fixer” Role
Even years later, I still feel that impulse – the want to mend, smooth things over, and keep the peace.
Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash
I find myself censoring what I say to one parent to avoid upsetting the other. I manage visits and scheduling as if I were negotiating a cease-fire.
But here’s the fact that transformed everything:
I am not responsible for managing their relationship.
It is not my responsibility to ensure their healing.
I had to unlearn the mindset that my peace should be last.
And honestly? That meant disappointing folks on occasion. It meant not taking certain calls. It meant saying no to conversations that I wasn’t emotionally prepared for.
But in exchange, I acquired emotional clarity, self-esteem, and the ability to breathe again in my own life.
If You’re Going Through This
If you’re searching for answers or simply trying to stay afloat while thinking “my parents are divorcing and I don’t know how to feel,” know that your experience is valid. You will discover a new beat. To explore more focused guidance, check out How to Deal With Your Parents’ Divorce in Your 20s — a heartfelt guide designed to help young adults navigate this emotional transition. You are not too sensitive. You are not selfish for being upset simply because you are an adult.
You are human. And when something fundamental changes, it’s natural to feel like you’re learning to walk again.
The grief will subside. The fog will lift. You will discover a new beat.
And no, things will never return to “normal.” But there’s life after this. And it can be beneficial.
- Try This if You’re Struggling:
- Write down what you wish someone would say to you.
- Take one hour off and simply be in your body.
- Read the stories of other adult children of divorce; you are not alone.
- Say no to your parents’ emotional oversharing. You are authorized.
“It is what it is” became my silent motto throughout it all. Not as a shrug, but as an anchor.
I couldn’t change what was happening. If you’re thinking, “My parents are divorcing and I don’t know how to cope,” you’re not alone — this story is for you. But I could change the way I carried it.
And so can you.
If you’re going through something similar and looking for ways to understand your emotions more deeply, you might also resonate with articles like Understanding Anxiety and Its Impact on Our Lives or Developing Emotional Maturity: 11 Methods & Worksheets. These pieces offer reflections and tools that support healing — especially during times when everything feels uncertain or overwhelming.
