Recovering From a Broken Family

I never considered my family to be broken. I never felt robbed of a childhood that society said I should have. We lived in a middle-upper class home with 4 bedrooms. My parents never had to miss work because their high-mileage, low quality car wouldn't crank. They never had to decide between keeping the lights on or putting food in the pantry. I never had to recover from the debilitating blows of divorced parents.

My brothers and I participated in sports. We took a vacation every summer, and despite a cluttered and chaotic house, we always had more than enough toys and electronics to keep us busy, a playhouse in the backyard, and a new (to us) car on each of our 16th birthdays.

We were truly blessed.

I met my husband in high school. We started dating my sophomore year and like many teenage romances, we fell head over heels. I was enamored by his independence, spontaneity, and self-reliance. He had freedoms and flexibility. He was kind and funny and good looking. He was edgy and mysterious, but warm and inviting.

In hindsight, those years simply flew by. More than a decade later, we've built a steadfast foundation of love and commitment. Together we've grown and experienced and discovered what it's like to become independent adults. We've been blessed with two healthy, outgoing, and mischievous kids, and thanks to them, we have an entirely different perspective on life. They have opened our eyes and have helped us to become the type of people we've always wanted to be.

Having kids also introduced us a new understanding of familial relationships.

My husband didn't have a picturesque childhood. He hates for old skeletons to be drug out of the closet and he certainly doesn't appreciate it when personal matters are shared so publicly - especially on social media - but I feel the need to establish that our family dynamics are nothing short of polar opposite.

I talk to my mother almost daily. Although we've had our fair share of strained seasons over the years, my parents have never backed down from their supportive and generous roles. Not once have I ever questioned their adoration and dedication to their children. They aren't perfect, but they've always been there for me. Always. They are active in our lives, make an effort to be present, and in turn, we do the same.

My husband, on the other hand, could write a book, or maybe even a TV series about the unbelievable, outlandish, and mind-boggling scenarios he faced growing up. From the constant roller coaster of a father with bi-polar disorder, inconsistencies of repeated moves, separation, abandonment, dishonesty, and isolation, his concept of 'family' was basically shattered.

Numerous psychology studies have shown that children from broken homes are significantly more likely to develop addictions, destroy relationships, and experience profound bouts of depression.

My husband's past was more than enough to identify exactly what type of family he desired to have in the future. It is very much the opposite of the dysfunctional unit he came from, but creating that sturdy assembly has not been easy. You see, even when your family is sloppy, disorganized, and absurd, you still cling to them with the hope that one day it might change.

His family continues to rise and fall. They come in and out of our lives like the tide. The smallest disagreement or miscommunication sets off a spark that leads to a 10-gallon drum of explosives. Hope builds on the potential for months, and then collapses with the minuscule weight of a toothpick. Unpredictable. Messy. Deceptive. Disappointing.

Don't get me wrong. There have been plenty of tolerable moments, and even some really good ones over the years, but they never seem good enough to push their relationships over that hurdle of dysfunction. The good moments are just the eye of a raging hurricane. A brief moment of peace before the fury reconvenes. The mountains of pride, skepticism, disappointments, and letdowns only grow larger. And with each forgiving reprieve, that wound, just on the verge of being fully healed, is barbarically ripped back open. The sharp knives of spite cut deeper, and the resentment is nothing more than a cup of salt to accompany the sting.

My in-laws have waltzed in and out whenever it's convenient - and that statement swings both ways - we're entirely guilty of that as well, but we're also human. And we make mistakes too. We're really good at holding grudges and keeping score. We're not perfect, and we haven't entirely figured out how to perfect relationships. I have a hard time forgiving. I have an even harder time understanding the sheer disconnect, the grudges, the contempt, the maliciousness.

But one thing we've learned is that above all else, we have to guard our hearts. They are already scarred and damaged enough from our personal imperfections. They are fragile and delicate. When the same people keep dropping your heart on the floor, at some point, you learn, maybe you shouldn't let them hold it anymore.

In fact, when those same people throw daggers from across the room - regardless if they are directed at your heart or your back - you begin to avoid them altogether.

Recovering from a broken family is a very complex and obscure balance of forgiveness and protection. It is a strenuous and often painful journey of vulnerability and rationality. It's messy. It's uncomfortable. It's turbulent. It sucks.

But in the process of that recovery, you cling most to the ones who know how to nurture, safeguard, and sustain your heart. You embrace new beginnings that give you a clean slate. A fresh start. You hold on to what satisfies your soul and you surround yourself with the things that build you up - not a past (or people) that are determined to tear you down.

Once you have a taste of what's on the other side of a stormy and unstable mountain, you have very little desire to go back. And you certainly don't want your kids to be exposed to that mess either. I'm pretty sure that navigating puberty and high school will be challenging enough. In the meantime, we no longer wish to explain to our kids why some family members are so close in proximity, but choose to be absent. We don't want to tell them anymore how both grandparents can't come to their birthday party because they're too wrapped up in selfish disagreements. We like spending Christmas morning at our house - not shuffling all over town to 4 different households. We're through forcing them to hug family members they don't recognize, but should.

My husband has been battling the raging currents of a dysfunctional family for most of his life. I dived right into those rapids when I was really young, but I was too blinded by love to see how hard he was swimming to keep his head above water. We make an incredible team. And together we've found how much easier it is to swim when you allow yourself the opportunity to float on down the stream to calmer waters. When you build a sturdy boat, you can stay afloat.

Even still, when a storm brews upstream, we always feel the consequences of high water. I know it will eventually pass. The dust will settle. The flood will subside. It always does. But it doesn't make it any easier.

Every family is a little bit broken - some more so than others - but we - our small and steadfast unit of 4 - we're choosing to be a team. And we're not excluding anyone from participating, but there are boundaries and precedents - something so valuable and necessary for protecting our unit. We will not allow anyone to come between members of our team. We will support and encourage each other, always. We will treasure and protect our relationships with all that we've got. And most importantly, we will build our family on an unwavering faith and love for God.