Growing up, I religiously watched Disney movies until my dreams filled with fantasies of living in a cloud-touching castle. My heart set on becoming a flawless princess in a twinkling gown that catches the light just right, who would finally meet the love of her life. The person that focuses in on her, and only her, like a high-quality camera. The person that looks at her the way Prince Charming looks at Cinderella. I suffocated myself in stories where happy endings were as ineluctable as making mistakes in life. Rapunzel met Flynn Rider, Ariel met Prince Eric, Sleeping Beauty awakened by a true love's kiss. Through my eyes, my mom was the Meg to my dad’s Hercules. Nothing, not even Hades, could tear them apart. Then they got divorced.

 I began to ask myself, How’s my mother different from these perfect princesses? and Was my dad The Beast, or my mom The Evil Stepmother? After endless fights and tragedies of picking sides, I finally realized that Disney did not exist in reality, despite how badly I wanted it to, and a happily ever after won’t always be the case.

When the two most important people in your life decide that their love story must come to an end, how will you go on as their creation of life? You become the double-sided tape that forces them together when all they want occurs apart from each other. For me, it was easy. As easy as pulling apart something you just superglued together. You find yourself in a position that no one cares for: the monkey in the middle. As your parents fight, you stand underneath them, helpless, like an ant under two exasperated giants. Many children of divorced parents might feel this way, yet looking at the bright side of the circumstances helped me get past the heart-wrenching truth and in doing so, a whole new world opened up to me and I preferred my parents divorced.

Having divorced parents is undeniably not the gold standard. Yet when you find yourself in the thick of the woods, looking for the crimson rose will help you trudge through. It certainly helped me, and I found it: my stepfamily. Since both of my parents remarried, I got the pleasure of a huge family on both sides. Many children of divorced families experience this as well. I never got the luxury of a big family since both of my parents immigrated from different countries. Yet with step family, I now live with people who accept me and love me as much as my parents do. Additionally, I got to grow up with step siblings older and younger than me. Each and every one of them brought a special gift to my life. My stepsister taught me the honorable role of an older sister, which I never experienced before. My stepbrothers taught me not only the ins and outs of barbarous video games, but also how to protect myself in this cruel world. These qualities, and many more, in my step siblings positively altered my life, all thanks to my parents finding their happily ever after with different people. Yet most importantly, my step family showed me that a blended family doesn’t always correlate to a bad family. 

Dating: a substantial downside of parental divorce. Divorce does not signify that we reached the eschaton, yet the feeling of anguish sure does. It’s difficult to actually see proof that your parents will never love each other again. Yet it wasn’t until a crisp fall night when I realized my parent’s dating life would come to stab me in the back. My dad dropped my sister and I off at my mom’s house at exactly 7 p.m., as any other night. The night grew shorter and my sister and I proceeded to get ready for bed when we heard our doorbell ring at around 9 p.m. To our surprise, my dad’s ex stood proudly on our front porch. Her warm breath fogged up the cold glass from the outside, making it nearly impossible to see her. She banged on the door as hard as a rock band drummer would strike a cymbal. My courageous mother held her ground and didn’t open the door, so the woman gladly welcomed herself into our dimly lit abode. Within seconds, the trajectory changed. She snatched my frail, six year old arm, and began to drag me out of the house. She ordered that we give her back the shirt she bought me months ago, hysterically yelling (little did we know that my dad broke up with her). My mom gripped my other arm as if her life depended on it, and they began playing a friendly game of tug of war with my petrified body. Next thing I knew, she released her grasp and I flew past my mom. Without hesitation, she left-hooked my mother in the face, leaving a mark on her jaw and in my heart. My sister and I scampered to the house phone to call the police, and soon enough, they arrived. The sirens wailed as if they were screaming at me, the blue and red lights flashed as if the Fourth of July came early this year, and I sat on my winding stairs wondering how my dad could ever let this happen.

Memories like these made me wish that my parents never split up. I wanted to bury every millisecond of that night deep within my brain until it became as insignificant as the clothes you shove under your bed. But the physical and emotional trauma my sister and I experienced would hold nothing compared to what my parents would feel if they stayed together for their children’s sake. Constant bickering in the house, feelings of tension so strong it absorbs you, and living in a hostile environment in a place where it should be an escape–all avoided due to their decision to separate. The bad days were atrocious, but it made the good days that much better. 

Overall, I experienced a plethora of positive memories and they outnumber the negative ones. For instance, Christmas time. The time of year where sparkling snow falls from the sky, swaying back and forth like light feathers from a pillow. This past Christmas, my mom's side of the family and my dad's side joined in celebration: an unprecedented event. Every single person that I love made an appearance in the same cushy room. To say the least, we had a blast! We talked for hours, scarfed down all the foods that we love, shared laughs, and exchanged memories that we all experienced but from different perspectives. The sweet smell of rose water from the sahlab–a Lebanese milk drink–combined with the nutty aroma from the chinese sesame balls tickled our noses and hearts pink. That conversation, and magical night, resonates with me to this day, and stands as the happiest night of my entire life. We rattled on about my dad’s ex incident, the first moment I met my stepmom and stepdad, the peculiar tendencies of my stepsister as a child, and just about every memory that we all shared over the past 13 years. This day brought my entire family closer and was a turning point in my family’s relationship. It took many years for my family to finally come together as one, yet it showed the strength of our familial ties and that the aftermath of divorce can be positive and preferred. 

In the end, my parents never finished their Disney love story together, but they found their Prince Charming and Cinderella in their own lives, separated, for the better. I can proudly say that my parents' divorce ameliorated my life because every single step family member of mine made me into the person you read today, and without them, I would have no family. Despite adversity, I found my crimson rose hidden in the dark forest by remaining positive and resilient. It only takes one decision to flip the entire world around, and in my case, for the better.