Stepmother =/= Wicked. via cepatri55 @ flickr
I was five years old when I realized everything was going wrong. I don’t remember the words that were hurled from Mom to Dad and back again, but I remember being scared and burying my nose in a book called Henrietta Operator. It was about a platypus who was a telephone operator, and it made much more sense to me than the chaos in my parents’ apartment.
The split happened a few weeks after I turned six. I was fairly calm when my parents sat me down to explain it. When they finished with their spiel, I simply asked Dad if we could go to Haagen-Dazs for chocolate ice cream.
And then things got more complicated than my young mind could process. Dad had a girlfriend. He had one immediately. It was a family friend and one of his coworkers, someone I truly adored. And it was obvious even to me that this was not really a new development. He had been with her before the end of the marriage.
Ruth (her middle name, for the sake of discretion) had worked with my father since I was six months old. She had visited me in the hospital when I had my open-heart surgery at 23 months. She had picked me up from nursery school and shuttled me to Dad’s office. She had given my parents the piano that I would eventually play for years after Dad moved out. She was warm, she was intelligent, she was someone I loved being with.
It could not have been more complicated.
Dad and Ruth maintained for years that they did not have an affair. They claimed it was only (to swipe a phrase from Alex Rodriguez’ wife) an affair of the heart. Finally, last year, they told the truth that had been so self-evident. And even though I had known all along, it hurt so deeply once again. The conflicting emotions came to the surface. Ruth was wonderful to me, but had been part of something that devastated my mother for countless years. My father was happier in his marriage to Ruth than he ever was with my mother, but he had betrayed the trust that I had put in him as a child.
For those of you who think that the immortal saga of Brad/Angelina/Jen is never-ending, I offer up my parents’ divorce. The wounds are still raw all around more than twenty years later. My mother and stepmother are mutual antagonists, with my little sister and me caught in the middle.
But whose fault was it? Ruth’s or Dad’s? Or was it neither? Why is the other woman always more stigmatized than the man who consciously chose to step outside his marriage and family? From my point of view, it was certainly easier to vilify this interloper than the father I still cannot help but worship.
When my father had a breakdown four years ago — really marking the onset of his early Alzheimer’s — he started cheating on my stepmother. He had not changed his behavior, and my stepmother was as hurt and angry as my mother had been. I was an adult, 23 years old, but felt almost vindicated when Dad told me that he and Ruth were going to separate. She had received her comeuppance, her punishment for what she had done! I was six years old all over again, and the other woman was at fault instead of my compulsively cheating father. Looking back on that, I feel deeply guilty and ashamed, and amazed that I am still struggling to move beyond that six-year-old frame of mind.
Over the past few years, as Dad has slid into Alzheimer’s and profound depression, I feel so grateful to have Ruth. I admit that there are still those times when I wish my father had been able to stay with my mother (and yes, I do understand that no divorce is ever that one-sided). But I realize that the split would have occurred with or without the other woman, the interloper, the stepmother, the other mother. Ruth did not end my parents’ marriage. My parents ended their marriage.
It is easy to blame the other woman. It is harder to assign equal responsibility to both parties, especially when the man is blood-related and, well, a man. Surely, Ruth must have been a scheming temptress, sharpening her claws for a catty catty catfight with Mom.
Or not.
No, definitely not. It was a speedbump in everyone’s life. It was not one woman’s grand plot to bring down a nuclear family that was in fact deeply dysfunctional. Ruth was not a siren steering the family into Scylla and Charybdis so that there would be a grand shipwreck. The whirlpool of anger has slowly subsided within me, and the only thing I can hold against Dad and Ruth is that they used extremely poor judgment. It hurt me, but that was not their intention. And, in the end, extremely poor judgment is a human trait. Parents are human, sometimes disappointingly so. Their children cannot change that, they can only move beyond it. I hope I have done so.
Lady, we have very similar stories. My parents divorced when I was 5, and my dad moved in almost immediately with the woman who would become my stepmother. My mother and I had a rocky relationship, caused largely by her own experiences with shitty parents and a lack of role models, and I lived with my dad and stepmom from 3rd grade onward, and for a few years had no contact with my mother whatsoever. After some counseling on my part, I have come to a place where my mother and I can have a relationship again. She comes to visit me and my husband, and I finally got her side of the story. My stepmom was just one of many affairs my father had. My mother said it so nonchalantly, as I was washing dishes after dinner, as if I surely knew this all along. It is hard to hear such a thing about your father, and to realize that he could be, at least in my case, both a shitty husband and a wonderful father.
My father, perhaps because he’s over 50 now and evaluating his life, or because he and my stepmom recently adopted a child and he’s thinking of all the things he didn’t do so right his first time around the family man track, is carrying around a lot of guilt about the whole situation. He and my husband are close, and he’s opened up to my husband about how he’s feeling. He hasn’t talked to me, or to my sister, or to my mother, or two my stepmom about all that happened almost twenty years ago, and my husband fears that the guilt will eventually kill him. But my dad is terrified of driving my insecure stepmom away, and so he keeps silent about his guilt. Not sure why I’m pouring this out here, but I worry about him. I don’t know how to fix these old family wounds. I don’t know how we can face our past and still keep our future intact. Maybe it’s time for more counseling.
My mother did a similar thing in dropping a bombshell very casually, although hers was about the fact that she was actually my father’s second wife and he had been married to a woman I never knew about — and had copped to cheating on her, too.
It might be healthy that he has opened up to your husband that much. It’s actually very brave. It’s probably easier to do that with a man who was not intricately enmeshed in the situation at the time, but so many people never even realize or care how they have hurt other people.
While I can admit that stepmothers =/= witches, it’s nice to see you posted a picture of MY stepmother with this piece. My mother actually initiated my parents’ divorce, and devastated my father, my whole family, and all their friends. Everyone gave her a really hard time about it because I was so young (3) and so was she (27). My dad moved on and married the worst woman on earth (see above pic) and my mother married the best man I could have ever hoped for as a father (or stepfather as it is). I feel so lucky to have been so young, I never saw them fight, heard anything terrible, or thought anything worse of either of my parents for it. Since then my dad and I have had a lot of issues, mostly based around the devil wife (who has supposedly calmed down now, I refuse to find out, it’s been 9 years now, can’t wait to say it’s been 10!) but have formed a decent relationship.
@stacy: Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m lucky to also have a stepdad who is truly awesome. My sister actually had a much worse relationship than I did with my stepmom, and it warped her ability to get along with my dad. I’m sorry you’ve had to work through so many issues with your dad. Can I ask why exactly your stepmother is the devil wife?
I am lucky enough to only have dealt with divorced parents on a remote level – my dad’s parents are divorced and my best friend’s parents are divorced – but both have stories very similar to those above.
My best friend’s dad married his other woman and watching BFF’s mom handle the situation with such grace and dignity just reinforces the fact that I could never be such a good person. If the woman who slept with my husband showed up at MY daughter’s wedding, I could not guarantee an evening empty of cake throwing.
My dad’s father did it to two different families, leaving his second wife while she was dying of breast cancer, and it’s taken Dad until this past year, the death of his brother AND the death of his stepfather before he could even begin to forgive him. As a kid, he was still my favorite grandparent – sending $100 birthday checks must have helped with his guilt.
My dad married an absolutely wonderful woman, and I feel very lucky because had she been jealous or mean it probably would have killed my relationship with my father once and for all. My parents’ divorce was due more to disenchantment and marrying too young rather than adultery, so I never had to deal with that, thank God.
Oh, holy cow. I’m so sorry, for you, for all involved. My parents are still married so I can’t commiserate, but I can offer parentheses and the word (((HUGS))).
This is a good piece of writing, Sarah. I’m sorry for those of you who have to deal with step-animosity like that.
I don’t know what’s in the water in Scranton, but I only had one friend growing up with divorced parents. My college friends’ parents were all married, too. None of my aunts/uncles are divorced (though one couple should be; they hate each other). My parents have been happily married for 30 years and my relationship reminds me of my parents’ in so many ways.
@SarahMC: I do have a measure of acceptance at this stage, far more than I ever thought I would. None of my close friends had divorced parents until I got to high school. It helped a lot when my mom started dating my stepfather, because his youngest daughter is one year older than me and we had been similar ages when we had to weather this stuff.
@BlondeGrlz: Oh man, I’m sorry about your grandfather. That sounds like such a rough thing for your father to have to go through, especially when dealing with his mother being ill.
Also, @SarahMC: Your point about one couple who should be divorced is so true. There are a lot of people who are like that. I know my parents would have eventually split, with or without the stepmom; they just had too many real differences in their outlooks on the fundamental things like money, child-rearing, etc. In retrospect, part of me is relieved it happened relatively quickly and I wasn’t living in a house for fifteen years with parents always screaming at each other.
What’s in the water Sarah? CATHOLICISM.
Sarah,
Okay, this is completely trivial, but your mention of Henrietta Operator been needling at me for a day now and I just got the click!
Reading your description I remembered loving (LOVING) a really similar book when I was little… An animal telephone operator, something about a box of chocolates… I could just hear my mother reading it, could feel the bunk beds and the carpet and my delight and surprise at this funny story.
But I kept coming back to the title–Henrietta didn’t ring any bell for me… it was Da-da Da-da Operator…. And then just now it clicked. Do you by any chance mean Mary Alice Operator Number 9? This Mary Alice Operator Number 9: http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Alice-Operator-Number-9/dp/0590758101?
Because that was my favorite book for a good longago year, and while it’s wrenching to think of the suffering you went through, I’m glad it was there to comfort you. Box of chocolates and all.
Warmly,
CK
@CK: Oh my God! Thank you! I was actually trying to Google it so I could link to it and couldn’t find it! And I’m thinking, ‘I know I didn’t dream this up!’ I will still call her Henrietta, though.
Hooray! Thank you–it was such a pleasure to remember the story. I just went down to the library and picked myself up a copy of it–”At the sound of the tone, the time will be two fifty one and fifteen seconds. Quack!”
Actually, it’s a pretty terrific feminist picture book. Not only is Mary Alice / Henrietta a dedicated working gal, but Boss Chicken is ungendered until the very end, when we discover her name is Nancy. I’d like to think that’s part of what we appreciated about it!
I am ordering it off Amazon! Childhood recaptured!
I thought you might be interested in hearing my family situation. Sorry that it’s so long.
My mother is the one who cheated on my father and my parents divorced during my first year in college, when I was 18. That was particularly rough because they both felt like I was the only person they could talk to and I was frequently in the middle of their fights.
What was gross about my mom’s affair was that I knew about it, my brother knew, hell, half the town knew about it. My dad suspected it but didn’t know for sure until a mutual friend told him. My mom used to try to get me alone whenever she could so she could talk to me about it. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to my mom about her affair. She constantly said, “don’t tell Dad!” and made me lie about where she’d been to my dad. She made me an accomplice to her affair. I didn’t want to lie to my dad but I didn’t want to betray my mom. Unsurprisingly, my brother and I both developed some nasty drug habits and my school work suffered.
I thought I hated my mom for the longest time. I thought she was weak, I resented her for making me a part of it, and I thought she was cowardly for not getting divorced from my dad because she was worried about how she would support herself. As I get older I’ve realized that what I thought was hatred was really just confusion and pity. I’ve come to realize that she’s not particularly mature so I cut her some slack. I’m beginning to see her as an actual woman with thoughts, needs, dreams, and weaknesses and not just My Mom. I know that my dad can be very hard to live with and that their marriage was troubled long before I was born.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I appreciated your post about how feelings change with age and maturity. I hope that one day I can be at peace with this too. Both of my sets of grandparents are divorced because of infidelity and now my parents are, and I’ll admit I’m secretly terrified that if I got married my spouse would cheat on me too. I hope that these fears don’t keep me from living a happy, trusting life, but it’s tough when you only have bad examples.
I was the cheated-on wife. I’d have much preferred it had been with a family friend instead of a procession of prostitutes and girlfriends (all of whom thought he was single). At least I could have understood a family friend.
@Jamie: Thank you so much for sharing. This is definitely an experience that too many people share and it can be so painful. You’re right about how hard it can be to trust others when you’ve witnessed infidelity within your family. I guess I can only say that we have to be our own examples (I know that sounds kitschy) and remember that it is far from inevitable that we will follow our parents’ paths.
@Alix: I am sorry you had to go through that. My ex-fiance cheated on me too, and not with anyone I knew. It is devastating, and you deserve far better.