"It's NOT your fault."

Today, in my Adjustment course (Effective Living), we were talking about autonomy. Autonomy is a critical stage of psycho-social development, and there's a lot that falls under that umbrella. But, in particular, we were discussing the facet of accepting responsibility for our actions, and not laying the blame with someone else. This also applies the other way: not blaming ourselves for something we couldn't have affected.

The presenter asked everyone in the class to close their eyes, and raise their hand if they felt like they were to blame for a tragic experience--like a death in the family or a car accident or a divorce. Reluctantly, and sorrowfully, I raised my hand.

My parents have been legally married for nearly 20 years, and separated for 11 of those years. They do not currently have an official divorce, because of costs and the added component of children to consider. They were married because of me, not because they wanted to be a family. Originally, I was to be put up for adoption. But, when mom became attached to me, the plan changed, and they were married almost exactly three months after I was born.

It didn't take long for me to be aware of my parent's failing marriage. I'd hear my mother crying in their room, or see my dad asleep on the couch rather than in their room. It wasn't much of a surprise when my mom packed my sister and I up in the middle of my fourth grade school year and moved away from my father.

No matter how much evidence I see to refute it, it's hard for me to believe that, twenty years down the road, it's not my fault that my parents failed. It's hard to realize that I really didn't have a part in my mother moving away, and straining contact with my father. I wasn't to blame.

But it's hard to tell that to a girl who pretty much caused her parents to get married, even if I was too busy crying and pooping to notice what was happening at the time.

And that's the thing. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't crawl up to my mother one day and say "hey you and my dad should get married, even though we all know you're bad together." Heck, I couldn't even talk. Or crawl. Even once I could do those things, I never purposefully tried to sabotage their relationship. I never encouraged mom to move away, or for dad to be depressed and give up. They made those decisions themselves, and they were stupid decisions. It was stupid of them to have me, to keep me, to get married and raise me. It was stupid of them to ever try, when they knew from the start that they weren't willing to try.

I'm here now though, and I have two parents that hate each other, and two sets of extended family that hate each other--and sometimes me. None of that is my fault. I am understanding that.