My life at home can be a degrading and stressful experience. When I was twelve my parents were getting a divorce mainly because of how each of them spent their money. Being at home was simply depressing. Almost everyday my mom and dad would argue about something, and it would sometimes occur the moment one walked through the door after coming home from work. When the divorce was finalized, I was thirteen, but the issues didn’t stop there. I spent a solid year bouncing from home to home between where my mom had to stay and where my dad had to stay. Eventually, my mom lost the house that I originally lived in because of the financial upsets between my mom and dad. Over some time the drama and arguments settled down, but as grew older and older I began to get pulled into the disagreements between my parents. I would become somewhat of a messenger boy, because the relationship between my parents had dwindled down so far that they couldn’t efficiently communicate through the phone, let alone communicate about touchy subjects in person. This caused me to hear stories from both sides. My mom would say something to me about my dad, and suggest that I go talk to him about it. When I would go to my dad, he would tell me another story or just say something to show that she was dramatizing everything. Over time, I managed to mostly escape the messenger position, but I couldn’t escape the shadow of financial burden casted opon me from my parents inability to work together without issue.
