31 Days of BPD
I have taken three days to answer this one because I’m at war with myself on which one I should tell. (Sorry!)
In the end however, I’ve decided to go with something fairly light hearted, but definitely a moment that changed my life in a lot of ways.
When I was eight, my bedtime was 7:30pm. No excuses. Emmerdale finished on the TV and up the stairs me and my six year old brother went. I always thought it should be later for me as I’m older, but mum was a younger child and hated that her bedtimes were always earlier than her sister’s.
Anyway, on that evening of September 2000, the Emmerdale closing credits came and me and my brother were both pretty good at not being told to get upstairs. We got up off the sofa to make our way up to bed, when ‘hang on a minute, we need to talk to you‘.
Result! No bed time for us. We were both so chuffed that we got to stay up later (not that we wouldn’t have actually gone to bed anyway – me and my brother had a habit for exchanging Pokemon cards on the landing in silence so that mum and dad thought we were in bed – I’m not sure whether they actually ever believed us though in hindsight, they’re not that stupid).
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Not because it massively affected me, because it didn’t at the time. I was very much looking on the positives of what they were about to say – two bedrooms, two sets of Christmas presents. Yep, they were getting a divorce.
My dad worked long hours and sometimes far away, so I wasn’t overly close to him as a child anyway. If anything, I became more close to him in the years that followed when we didn’t live with eachother.
This story actually makes me smile when I think about it believe it or not, just because me and my brother were so unbelievably and ironically happy about the staying up later – cheeky little monkeys. I think the photo conveys the cheeky perfectly, even if it is a few years earlier.
Probably the most positive ‘telling the children we’re getting a divorce’ story out there.