CHILDREN, DIVORCE AND PAIN: WHEN DIVORCE HURTS MORE THAN IT HELPS - A PERSONAL REFLECTION ON CONFLICT AND CHILDREN

 

Divorce is often described as a breaking apart of a marriage, a family, a life once imagined. For children, that break can create deep and lasting emotional wounds and scars. They may carry feelings of guilt, anger, anxiety, and confusion. Some start to worry about their future, wonder if they caused the breakup, or feel pulled between two people they love equally.

But an important question remains: Does divorce always damage children?
The honest answer is no. Divorce itself isn’t automatically harmful. What truly shapes a child’s emotional experience is the level of conflict surrounding it.

In my own journey, conflict was the unexpected anchor pulling us all down.

For years, the tension between my ex-husband and me had been heavy, constant, and exhausting. When we finally parted ways, I genuinely believed it would bring peace — not just for me, but for our children too. I imagined a quieter home, a calmer heart, and a happier environment for everyone.

I was wrong.

What I didn’t realize then was that the conflict didn’t magically disappear after the divorce — it simply took on a new form. My ex and I continued to clash. The arguments didn’t stop; they just moved to new places: court exchanges, phone calls and messages. And in the middle of all that, my children watched their mother crumble again and again — stressed, overwhelmed, and constantly in tears.

I thought we were protecting them by us separating and eventually divorcing. I didn’t see that the constant conflict was still shaping their world.
I didn’t understand how toxic the environment had become.
I didn’t know how deeply they absorbed the emotional storms around them.

Instead of finding relief, my children carried even heavier emotional loads. And while I was drowning in my own pain, I couldn’t see theirs.

Looking back now, I understand that divorce isn’t what hurts children most.
It’s the conflict. It’s the tension. It’s the emotional chaos that lingers long after the relationship ends.

And healing begins not when papers are signed, but when the conflict stops — or at least softens — enough for everyone to breathe again.

In a divorce, children hurt just as deeply as parents do — sometimes even more. But it’s important to remember that divorce doesn’t affect all children in the same way. One child may struggle intensely, acting out in ways that feel out of character, while another may quietly accept the situation, feeling a sense of peace or even relief after leaving behind a toxic, unhappy environment.

Regardless of how they outwardly react, children often go through a profound emotional turmoil. They can experience waves of anger, sadness, anxiety, confusion, and even hopelessness. Many feel guilty and blame themselves for the divorce, convinced that they somehow caused the conflict or weren’t “good enough” to keep the family together.

This emotional strain can spill into other areas of their lives. Children may face behavioural challenges or difficulties at school, ranging from lower grades to withdrawal, acting out, or in more severe cases, disengaging entirely from their education.

Their reactions also differ by age. Younger children may experience the separation as sudden and frightening, struggling to make sense of the change. Teenagers and young adults, on the other hand, often carry intense anger — not just about the divorce itself, but about the loss of stability and the feeling that their world wasn’t what they believed it to be.

Each child’s journey through divorce is unique. And understanding these emotional layers is the first step toward supporting them with empathy, patience, and love.

For the longest time, I believed I was doing everything right. I checked in on my children, made sure they went to counselling, and tried to be present for them in every way I knew how. But what I failed to understand was that the emotional damage wasn’t just coming from the divorce itself — it was also coming from everything that changed around it.

The shift in our living conditions, the change in lifestyle, my inability to provide the way I once did, and the pain they saw me carry every day… all of that affected them more deeply than I realised. I thought that offering consistent reassurance, love, and open communication would build resilience and protect them from trauma. But it wasn’t enough.

My youngest daughter became my greatest challenge, and heartbreakingly, I didn’t see the truth soon enough: the divorce shattered her. It broke her spirit in ways I couldn’t comprehend at the time. She started acting out, and like many overwhelmed parents, I interpreted her behaviour as disrespect, selfishness, or defiance.

But what she was really saying was: “I’m hurting. I’m drowning inside. Please see me. Please help me.”

For more than two years, I struggled with her emotional and behavioural changes — from withdrawing from school to constantly being in crisis. Instead of holding her close, I pushed her further away, sending her to stay with family because I didn’t know how to cope anymore.

I’ll never forget the day we had a heart‑to‑heart conversation now recently. She pleaded with me, begged me not to send her away again. She simply asked me to deal with her because she was my child. And without thinking, exhausted and emotionally drained, I told her I just wanted to sleep peacefully at night — that at least if she stayed at my aunt’s house, I knew she was safe.

I didn’t realise it then, but those words cut deeper than any of her pain could ever show.
In that moment, I unintentionally affirmed her deepest fear — that I didn’t want her, that I loved her siblings more, that she wasn’t enough to stay. That sense of rejection wounded her even further, pushing her into more frustration, more rebellion, more acting out.

Just a few weeks ago, things reached a terrifying turning point. She ran away from my aunt’s house deceiving them that she’s going for a walk and to see a friend nearby. Panic swept through our entire family. Because in South Africa today, no matter how strong or careful we are, a girl child is never truly safe. She becomes a target — for trafficking, sexual exploitation, drugs, and countless other dangers that haunt parents’ worst nightmares.

My aunts were terrified. My entire family was shaken. And I felt responsible, helpless, and desperate for her safety.

The search for my daughter began immediately, and for seven agonising days we lived in fear and uncertainty. Then, out of nowhere, we received an anonymous call revealing where she was. We found her and brought her home. The moment I saw her safe, alive, and physically unharmed, I felt a wave of relief wash over me — the kind only a mother can understand after imagining every possible nightmare.

But that relief was short‑lived. That same evening, I was humiliated by my ex‑husband and his parents — an experience I’m still processing. It’s a story for another day, because the hurt is still raw, and I don’t want to speak from a place of anger.

For now, I’m simply grateful. Grateful that my daughter is safe. Grateful that I can finally get her the support she desperately needs. And grateful that God is a God of second chances — a God who restores, heals, and rebuilds what feels broken beyond repair. I truly believe He will restore her and give her another chance at life.

This entire nightmare has taught me one of the most painful but important lessons of my life:
To support my children properly, I must first manage my own stress and emotional state.
Children — especially when you are the primary parent — mirror your emotions. If you’re drowning, they feel it. If you’re anxious, they absorb it. If you’re breaking, they crack too.

I’ve learned the importance of seeking support from friends, family, and professionals so that I can create a stable environment for my children. Healing isn’t something we do alone. Stability isn’t something we magically produce. It is something we build with help, humility, and honesty.

The truth is, divorce is brutal, divorce is painful, divorce is hard, divorce is scary, divorce is difficult — not just for the parents, but equally, painfully, for the children. Divorce wounds them. Divorce confuses them. Divorce destabilises them. And through it all, they need grace. Patience. Understanding. They need us to show up, even when we are hurting, broken, or exhausted.

These are some of the biggest reasons I’ve learned now recently why the breakup of parents can affect children so deeply and negatively:

The first challenge children face after a divorce is simply having fewer resources. Once a family splits, it becomes incredibly difficult to stretch the total income to cover all the households’ requirements/necessities. Less money, less support, and even less time can affect children — not because the parents don’t care, but because the strain naturally spills over into daily life.

The parent who moves out — usually the father — often has to make a much greater effort to maintain consistent involvement. And the reality is that in many families, that consistency doesn’t happen (which is the case in my situation, sadly). Still, when day‑to‑day father involvement decreases, teenagers and young adults feel the impact most intensely. Meanwhile, the parent at home carries almost all the emotional and practical responsibilities of daily parenting, which can take a heavy toll.

When Our Children Carry What We Never Meant for Them to See

I’ve spent years trying to shield my children from my struggles after the divorce—hiding my tears, masking my fears, praying quietly behind closed doors. I thought that if I carried the weight alone, they could grow up free, innocent, untouched by the hardships of life.

But children have a way of seeing through even our strongest walls.

One day, one of my children looked at me and said, “Mama, we see you. We see how hard you try to give us the best. We know it’s not easy for you. We hear you cry. We hear you pray and ask God why. We don’t want you to carry this burden alone anymore. That’s why I’m working so hard—so I can help you.”

Those words broke something open inside me.

All this time, I believed I was protecting them. I believed my silence was a shield. But they saw every crack, every tremble, every moment I thought I’d hidden well. And instead of being spared from my pain, they carried it with me—quietly, lovingly, heavily.

No child should feel responsible for a parent’s tears. No child should carry the weight of adult struggles. They deserve peace, softness, and the assurance that their world is safe. I’m not raising my children so they can look after me one day and carry my burdens—I want them to walk their own paths; their future should be theirs without feeling the weight of my life on their shoulders or feeling obligated to take care of me.

Yet life doesn’t always unfold the way we hope. Sometimes our children witness our battles. Sometimes they grow empathy from places we wish had stayed untouched. And sometimes they surprise us with a strength far beyond their years.

Their words taught me something profound:
Love makes children see what we think we’ve hidden. And compassion makes them want to help, even when they shouldn’t have to.

As parents, we do our best with what we have. But I’m learning to give myself grace—and to allow my children to love me without feeling responsible for my pain. They are my motivation, not my burden-bearers.

And moving forward, I want to create a home where they feel protected, not pressured. Where their hearts feel light. Where their childhood remains exactly that—childhood.

Because every child deserves that.

 The second challenge is the way children experience divorce so differently from their parents. For us as adults, the reasons for the split may seem obvious. But for children, it can feel sudden and confusing. One day mom and dad are both at home — maybe a little tense, maybe arguing here and there, but still together. And then, suddenly, everything changes.

Children begin to ask themselves painful questions:
“What really happened?”
“Is this my fault?”
“Is this how relationships work — they just fall apart for no reason?”

These thoughts can deeply influence how they see love, trust, and relationships when they grow up.

As a family (me and my children), we are now focusing on repairing what was broken, seeking God’s wisdom, and allowing Him to guide our next steps. I’m praying for healing — for myself, for my children, and for our home. God is the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, and I trust that He will comfort us in all our afflictions. I believe He will restore us and lead us back to a place of peace, stability, and love.

My journey continues and I strive to move towards a happier and more fulfilling life🥂💃🏽🥰 I’m Just A Small Girl With A Big God🙏🏽💕 Mercy Rewrote My Life🙏🏽💕Mercy Said No🙏🏽💕 Grace Has Located Me🙏🏽💕 I Am An Overcomer🙏🏾💕A Very Beautiful Story❤️ Live in the moment, Laugh harder, Love💖 deeply & Celebrate more💕🎉🥂💃🏽🥰

 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ - 2 Corinthians 1:3-5🙏🏾🙏🏾

Love & Light 

Dipsy💚