Broken, but still successful

Let's face the brutal facts.

Modern family life, even at the best of times, is a messy, complicated, and unpredictable business.  In fact, ask almost anyone to tell the story of their family and it is immediately obvious that they too are an exception to the urban myth of mum, dad, and two point four kids, living together as a harmonious, mutually supportive unit.

Once we start talking about it, in fact, it seems that we all have a ‘mad’ aunt tucked away in dusty photo albums, unresolved family feuds that occasionally explode into life (particularly around Christmas and at weddings), or children that, from time to time, push us to our limits and challenge us to our core. 

In other words, if the myth-makers portray family life as a Sunday afternoon stroll in the park, the sobering reality for most of us is of a cross-country marathon across difficult terrain.  We’re cold, tired, dirty, and it’s as much as we can to do to keep everyone together, motivated, and out of harm’s way.

Sadly, not all families cope under this kind of pressure.  For whatever reason, one or both of the team ‘leaders’ simply reach a point where they choose to pull away from the group and follow a different path, more often than not leaving the children to pick themselves up, navigate the disruption, and carry on as best they can.

The turning point
My own turning-point in the race occurred nearly ten years ago now.  Almost overnight, I went from Sunday afternoon walks in the park to being a ‘Eurostar Dad’, committing myself to a fortnightly journey across the Channel and being the link between two sets of fabulous kids.  In the years that followed, in other words, I did what many dads do following a divorce: simply hold the various fragments of my life together and place them into some kind of meaningful whole. 

Alternate weekends in London were spent at the park, sharing news about school, getting wet, shouting at one another, eating together, watching Match of the Day together, and making each other laugh.  It was almost always the same.  But, then again, we liked our routine and it worked for us. 

My embrace of one child, however, was always felt as absence for another.  How could I forget those two little girls in Brussels, growing up with a father who wasn’t always there, to take them to the park or simply support their mother in the tricky business of raising twins?

Even today, I seem always to be journeying, always somewhere in-between, but it seems to be the least I can do to show my children how forever precious they are to me.

The opinion
In a recent conversation about this non-traditional tale of family life, a ‘friend’ declared to me that, in his opinion, I no longer had a family.  Rather, he went on to explain, I had to face up to the fact that I am now a member of a broken family.  

Putting down the phone, the more I thought about his remarks, the more awkward and resentful I began to feel.

And here’s why.

I’m open to other suggestions, but I’d dare to suggest that all of us are part of families that are intrinsically broken – not just those of us who have gone through the pain of separation and divorce.  That’s right!  In one way or another, we’re all messed up and scarred by the wounds that we have inflicted upon one another – as parents, children, brothers and sisters.  Behind closed doors, all of us guard familial tales of hurt, disappointment, that make us feel ashamed and somehow different from the rest.  So let’s not single out one group as somehow being ‘more broken’ than others.  We’re all hurting.

On the flip side, though, I actually remain deeply optimistic about modern family life – in all its forms – and increasingly find confidence in the ‘elasticity’ of families to accommodate all manner of stresses and strains over long periods of time.  Even when stretched to their limits, modern family life reveals itself to be a positive, meaningful and, ultimately, successful social unit.  At least, that is my story.  Despite everything and despite feeling stretched between two countries for a decade, I can honestly say that I have no regrets and nothing but heartfelt appreciation for every one of those precious moments with those I love the most – moments borne out of the complexity of all the journeys, all the hellos and goodbyes.

A story that is ours to celebrate
Once upon a time, we were all once taught to believe in the perfect, circular shape of ‘mum, dad and two point four children’.  In reality, though, as time passed, many of us found that our families don’t hold this form for long.  We had more children, or less.  We found that we couldn’t have children at all, or decided to adopt.  Extended family members came and went.  We hurt each other and the scars remained.  Family members passed away – leaving a space where they should have been.  Families broke up and attached themselves to other families.

Stretched by our history in all manner of directions, more often than not our stories completely break the mould of a traditional nuclear family.  We break.  We change.  We adapt.  We grow into something unique and generally get used to who we are.  And if we’re honest, some of us wouldn’t have it any other way.

And, in my book, that’s success.

This article was written for publication in TOGETHER magazine, Issue 22, December 2010.