My model for marriage was pain.

That's all I saw from my parents.

I never saw any tenderness between them. They didn't hug or kiss or even lean in toward each other. My mom took care of the kids and my dad worked. When they were both in the house together they were in different rooms. On weekends, mom was inside and dad was outside. When they were together is when the arguments started; at the dinner table, in the car on the way to church. My parents didn't seem to like each other. I didn't even think of them as friends.

So, why did these two people live in the same house? They were so unhappy that we did everything we could to make them smile, to lighten the mood. We put on plays and learned to be cute and charming. We cared for their needs, we cheered them up. The love flowed from the kids to the parents, instead of the other way around. When we weren't making them happy we modeled their behavior in our fights and control. I picked up reading early as a welcome escape from the heaviness at home.

I even made up the "story" that it was my fault everyone was in so much pain! It just didn't make any sense that these two people would ever marry each other of their own volition. They must have been forced.

I am the oldest of four kids and I was born when my mom was 19. My parents did not celebrate their anniversary so I never really knew when they got married but, somewhere along the way, I just knew that they must have gotten married because they were pregnant with me. It was the only thing that made sense.

Years later I found out the date of my Aunt's wedding and - since it was a double marriage with my folks - that confirmed the "shotgun wedding" theory.

We learned in Sunday School that we chose our parents so why would I chose the ones I got? I obviously chose parents that didn't want me and that's why they didn't love me. It made sense. It was my fault that my parents were unhappy. They had to get married because mom was pregnant with me and God knew and was punishing me.

In my 30s, I went to visit my Aunt, Uncle and cousins because my cousin Joanna was getting married. Over dinner one night, my Uncle told the story of their wedding. When I asked about my parents I found out that my Aunt had not been married once, as I always believed but had been married twice. The first time was only for a year or so and two years later she married my Uncle. My parents had waited over a year before they got pregnant.

All those years I felt responsible for the pain. I made up stories to explain their unhappiness and emptiness. The things that didn't make any sense to me. What I understand today is that they chose the pain.