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Blending is a brave yet humbling form of living outside your own comfort zone for a bigger cause: your child. In order to optimally blend, you must get out of your own way. On the road toward healing, I made some bad choices. You might find yourself in the same situation immediately after a breakup. Don’t be afraid of this. Separations are never easy if the heart is involved.
During the separation and for months after the divorce was final, I was living life backward. It was like I was an adolescent all over again: going out every night, hanging out with women who dwelled in gossip and drama, and dating men who were completely wrong for me. I was trying to fill a void that could never be filled outwardly.
Kasseem was five years old at the time, too young to fully understand what divorce meant. But he sensed that his life had irrecoverably changed. There was a large pool table in our living room. He used to ride his little tricycle around it over and over again. When Swizz moved out, so did the pool table. And it left a large vacant space in our home. One day Kasseem asked me, “Mommy, what happened to the pool table?” Young children have very simple ways of connecting their emotions to their reality. And even though we may not see immediate, physical responses, they absolutely feel a loss.
I remember that Kasseem’s eyes were filled with wonder and inquiry, and I’m thankful that I found the strength and grace to give him a careful answer with a gentle voice. I told him, “Daddy has a new home. That’s where the pool table is, and you will visit with him there soon.”
During a separation, the adult must quickly zero in on the two primary gifts they owe their children: roots and wings. Roots ensure that the circumstances of life don’t destabilize and debilitate them. Roots are their security, support, the home base of love. Wings will help children move forward in spite of obstacles, conquer their challenges, and soar above their feelings of loss.
Dr. Dan Siegel, the bestselling co-author of Parenting from the Inside Out and several other parenting books and the executive director of the Mindsight Institute, described what happens during a separation for the parents and for the children involved. “We are very relational beings,” he explained. “We naturally form strong attachments to the people close to us, and this tendency begins at birth with an attachment to the person who gives us care most consistently. Often this is our mother, but it can be another person. The quality of this early attachment can vary, but in the most ideal circumstances, it provides a child with three things: the feeling of being Seen (physically, mentally, and spiritually), being Soothed (when you’re distressed, your connection with this person is able to help calm you or make you feel comforted and at ease), being Safe (this person protects you). All these things lead to Security, and such an attachment gives a child a positive springboard into life.”
Dr. Siegel goes on to explain that when we get older, our romantic partners become attachment figures—we seek to be seen, soothed, and safe in those relationships as well. Sometimes these adult relationships reflect the quality of our original attachments. Sometimes they act as a compensation for them. When there is a breakdown in that relationship, it is a deep rupture that has a huge impact on our lives. It is also a disruption for the children who bear witness to it.
During the early stages of my breakup, I was confused and experiencing great levels of emotional distress. I was numb. I woke up sad and went to sleep sadder. I didn’t know where to start to find peace. While sadness enveloped me, my sweet boy was also sad. When I couldn’t bear to peel myself out of bed to face the world, his innocent eyes looked concerned.
For the sake of my son’s energy, I purged myself of the crying and screaming when he wasn’t around and prayed before I was in his presence. It was important to not allow myself to pass down my stress into his little body. I knew how important it was to keep this child protected from the hazards of my own sadness. I remembered the four years I lived with my parents as I watched their twelve-year marriage rapidly devolve. One parent was constantly complaining about the other, and it was stressful. My sister and I internalized our parents’ emotions and felt a little bit of what each parent felt for each other. I existed timidly in their presence, not sure where my own emotions fit into the picture. This was not a positive emotional experience for a child.
I didn’t want to involve Kasseem in my pain. My actions were all traits he could observe and silently absorb, and I knew that there was a distinct possibility that he might view my behavior and carry it into his adult life. I wanted him to be happy, and I began to understand that this would be unattainable without first finding my own happiness or, at the very least, a place of internal peace. I didn’t want to mold his life in the negative radiation of my hurt.
Yet I wasn’t masking what was happening very well. He began to ask questions about my relationship with his father. Kasseem is my little thinker. The family has coined him the King of Common Sense because he’s always strategically working things out in his mind. He would wait until we were both alone and quiet before starting his inquiries about the life we were living. Many times he would wait until he was tucked into bed, or I would catch him staring into the rearview mirror, trying to make eye contact with me on our drives home from school.
“Mommy, does Daddy like you? Do you like him?”
During this time, visits with his father took place only every other weekend or whenever Swizz was in town. Kasseem noticed how Swizz and I barely smiled at each other during drop-off and pickup and how intense the energy was. Meeting to exchange Kasseem was just that—an exchange—like a FedEx guy scrambling to get a box out of his truck and running up the stairs to drop it at the front door. There were no emotions. No humanity. Kasseem wanted his parents to get along. He yearned for unity and harmony. There were more questions.
“Mommy, why doesn’t Daddy ever come over to our house? And why can’t you go to his house?”
These questions signaled that Kasseem was absorbing the negativity between his father and me. Instead of enjoying a carefree, innocent childhood, he was wrestling with very adult emotions. He began having a hard time at school. His teacher reported that he seemed to be having difficulty paying attention in class. He was very comfortable with his teacher at the time and told her that he didn’t like having two homes and wished he had a normal family. He started to rebel in his own way.
Too often, parents hesitate to speak to their children openly about their separation. They mistakenly think, “If I ignore these questions, they will go away.” Often parents are nervous about speaking to their child about what they have told themselves is their personal failure. Instead, they tell the child that everything will be fine. That may be true, but if we don’t also affirm our children’s feelings, we’re doing a deep disservice to them.
Sophia Chang, a professional in the music business, knew that pretending to go along would not work: “Our children are bound to us in every way—spiritually, emotionally, physically, genetically. I don’t care if both parents are Oscar-winning actors; you can never fool your kids into thinking that everything is okay. Even when the children are babies, they are so tuned in to our energy, they know something is amiss. When I told my mentor, Michael Ostin, about the challenges in my marriage—that we were fighting in front of the kids, that there was no joy, no tenderness between us—he said to me, ‘Soph, is that really the model of love that you want for your children?’ I knew he was right.”
When Michelle Seelinger, a businesswoman and philanthropist, and her husband, David, decided to separate, she insisted that they tell their daughters together in the most loving, calm, and accepting atmosphere possible. They picked the family room of their home and struggled to find words that could convey that even though they loved each other and them very much, they needed to live in separate homes. The girls never had a clue anything was wrong with their parents, so it was very confusing to them. Their four-year-old didn’t understand, but the eight-year-old was devastated. Michelle hadn’t been too worried about their reactions, having been brought up seeing many broken families. But in that moment, she considered that in their affluent northern New Jersey community, most parents stayed together despite their problems. They would now be the only kids with a mom and a dad who don’t live together or spend holidays or family vacations together. “I realized I had to step up and be strong for them if I was going to raise two young, confident, successful women all alone in a social media–obsessed society where normal was defined by Kardashian family values.”
Adam, a married adult father of two children, remembers the exact day his father moved out of the house, even though he was only five years old. There had been a lot of arguing and yelling, and he figured something would have to change, but he wasn’t sure what that change would look like until his father left. There was a degree of embarrassment. It was the early eighties, and divorce was very rare among his friends. He was also anxious about whether he and his brother would have to move to a different house. There was a perfunctory sit-down, during which his parents rolled out the common script: “Mommy and Daddy love you and your brother, but we need to live apart. This is not your fault.” Now with children of his own, he wishes he was given an opportunity to learn more about what happened with his parents and describe what his concerns were at the time.
World-renowned therapist and author Dr. Shefali Tsabary had important advice about this: “As parents, we cannot protect our child from feeling pain. This is their path. You must allow them to feel the pain, anger, and confusion that a separation inevitably causes. Your role is to be a witness to the pain, then help guide your child in the process of navigating that pain. Don’t say to the child, ‘Now, you’re gonna get two families instead of one.’ The kid didn’t ask for two families. Be honest and transparent: ‘We understand that you didn’t ask for this. It is not your fault, and we are deeply sorry this is happening, but each person needs to find their own truth, and this is the way Mom and Dad are finding their truth.’ It is important to help the child see that this is not the end of the world, that he or she is going to get through this. If the adults work to minimize conflict, minimize confusion, and minimize inconsistencies—which are the upshots of blending—the child will survive the process with dignity, confidence, and a sense of security.”
Every parenting expert I spoke with emphasized the importance of being open with your child about your emotions and allowing him or her to give voice to feelings and fears during a breakup. Your child has developed a picture of normal in their mind. When there is something like a divorce, that picture shifts dramatically. It’s confusing, and if they are not allowed to speak about it, then that confusion becomes internal and is magnified. They may begin to speculate on what they did to contribute to their parents’ breakup. They may become cynical, sad, and/or angry people and grow up replaying feelings of abandonment with their future partners.
If you tell your child, “I’m okay,” and you are quite clearly not okay, the message your child receives is “Don’t trust your instincts. What you see and feel isn’t true.” The more productive route is to engage with your child in what Dr. Siegel describes as reflective dialogue. When things are calmer, you can sit with your child and gauge their reaction to what’s happening. These conversations allow your child to be seen and soothed. Even when emotions bubble over with your ex right before your children’s eyes, you can return to the incident and explain that adults in a state of anger or sadness do things that they wouldn’t ordinarily do. You can help your child make sense of the situation.
Erica Reischer, author of What Great Parents Do , believes it’s important to be open with your children: “Great parents acknowledge their moods and feelings.” All kids, even very young ones, have “feelers.” They know when their parents are sad or in a bad mood or, when a parent makes the well-intentioned mistake of hiding their feelings, are saying okay when clearly things are not okay. This is confusing for kids. When their feelings are not being matched with what the parent says, it is an incongruity that ultimately stunts their emotional intelligence.
At the same time, you should not overshare with your children. If your child is asking you why you are sad, you can say, “I’m sad because someone said something to hurt my feelings.” That is easy for a child to understand. The language can become more sophisticated the older your child is, but there is no need to name the other parent. Sharing how you feel in a developmentally appropriate way will give you the opportunity to role model coping strategies for your child. Bashing your ex will compromise your relationship with your child, who will likely feel that you blocked the relationship with the other parent from developing. It may also cause your child to feel as if he or she needs to take care of you. At the end of the day, a child does not want to take care of his or her parent.
Children are remarkably resilient. I knew this to be true about Kasseem. However, that resilience needs to be guided. I had to think of a plan of action to produce change. I had to figure things out . . . quickly. Nothing in my life other than the love for my son could have forced me to rest my ego and pick up all the pieces of myself that I had lost along the way. My perspective needed to be broadened. The breakup was not what was happening to me; it’s what was happening for me.
So where did I begin? How did I move forward from the sadness?
People always ask me this, and the answer is consistent—you first have to find the light in the dark places, and then create positives in areas once filled with the negatives. Moving forward has always been, and will always be, based on the achievement of peace within. There is no timeline for healing. The timing is and should be completely personal to the individual. I knew it was time to return to who I intended to be. So I started from my beginning.
My grandmother, who raised me, with Kasseem and me on his first birthday. I was pretty clueless when it came to a traditional family upbringing with a mother and a father under the same roof, but still I wanted that picture for my son more than anything.
When I was nine months old, I was brought to live with my grandmother, Philomene Tifrere. A spiritual and independent woman from the island of St. Lucia, her love, guidance, and powerful example made me the woman I am today. It was she, in fact, who taught me the importance of balance and owning my own identity. She gave me the tools that would soon help me see myself through my own healing and blending.
By the time I was born in 1978, she was fifty-four years old. She had birthed five children and seen five fathers leave. She had no idea what the inside of a courtroom looked like, and she certainly never saw a child-support check in her life. A scheduled visitation from one of her children’s fathers would probably have seemed like a dream. Mum, as I call her, never used the term “single mother.” She never claimed it. She just figured out how to be a mother on her own, while protecting her sanity and the well-being of her children.
Mum’s love, guidance, and powerful example made me the woman I am today. It was she, in fact, who taught me the importance of balance and owning my own identity. She gave me the tools that would soon help me see myself through my own healing and blending.
Here I am in 1981 with Mum, holding my younger sister, Melissa. Mum was visiting us in Cambridge, MA.
Mum stood a gentle five feet, four inches and held a petite frame, but she spoke with the passion and conviction of a general leading an army of loyal warriors. She always wanted me to know that energy, good or bad, always passed. “Don’t worry, it will pass, Mashonda, and God will never give us more than we can bite off,” she would say. She flowed through life, and even when things were challenging, she never let her burdens become a part of her fabric. I don’t recall ever witnessing Mum in a state of distress. She was consistent with her uplifting spirit and love, and this made me feel protected as a child. She also unmistakably understood that I was an individual with an independent soul rather than her possession, giving me the freedom to think for myself. I still feel the self-empowerment that was instilled in me by my grandmother during my formative years.
While racing into adulthood, it was tragically easy to misplace her lessons, creating a space left vacant for fear, guilt, blame, and myriad unanswered “why”s. Soon after the divorce, I retreated to the chilling cold of seclusion. The silence allowed reflection, which began to reawaken my dormant true self. I began to recall Mum’s constant reminders that everything I would ever need was right inside me. I didn’t need to seek myself in the hearts of others. I was equipped with every tool I needed to prosper.
One of these tools was the act of mindful breathing. Mum taught me that whenever something hurts, take a deep breath.
Inhale.
Exhale slowly.
I didn’t realize the power of breathing until I began to practice Pilates. I began to train five days a week for one hour. During Pilates, you cannot stop to think about anything outside of being on the mat, holding your core, and breathing. You do not have the energy to focus on anything outside the realm of that present moment. It was an escape from the other twenty-three hours that were so often a confused and emotional mess. Exercise in any form is a vital part of becoming and staying a healthy human, not only physically but mentally.
I began to take the magic of the breath outside the Pilates studio, conditioning my mind to believe that my past wasn’t as real as my present. The good thing about the past is that we have the power to make it whatever we want it to be. I decided to use my past as a series of lessons, as moments in time that related to the journey of becoming who I was right then in that moment.
Choosing my thoughts and practicing Pilates helped me shift not only my mentality but also my body and brain. As my body developed into its best condition ever, my brain followed closely behind. I learned how to use breath to eliminate mental clutter, those things that prevented me from controlling my direction and focus.
The second step toward moving through the pain I was feeling was to take a deep look into myself. I used therapy to do it.
I’ve never been one of those people who placed a stigma on seeking psychotherapy. I actually always felt that the ones who sat on the receiving end of the couch and spilled their thoughts of fear, anger, and blame were the brave ones.
If you can pay a specialist to style your hair or paint your nails, why would you let your friends do those things? Same rule applies to therapy. Why talk exclusively to your friends about your issues and mental health when there are people who have studied human behavior and are trained to be professional, compassionate, objective, and knowledgeable?
Did I need therapy?
Well, nothing was normal about the way I had been feeling. I was struggling. There was a loss of motivation, and I felt overwhelmed. The question “Am I crazy?” went back and forth in my head. I decided to pray on it. I didn’t know who to trust or who to ask about the matter. No one in my circle had ever had a therapy session. It’s not a common thing in the African American community. Most of the women in my life moved through emotions without seeking professional assistance. They discussed them with peers who were too jaded by their own emotional layers to provide constructive feedback. I knew that wasn’t the route I wanted to take with my healing.
I had met with a psychiatrist ten years prior, when I lost my son Angel. All it took was one session and I was able to gain a different perspective on the incident. Losing a baby is something I feel you never 100 percent get over, but that session helped me clear up 75 percent of the trauma. But this was different. I needed to be mentally stable for my son, and because of this, I was willing to take the first step and be completely open and vulnerable to a complete stranger.
What God presented to me was more than promising. I met Dr. Jeffrey Gardere on the set of Good Day New York as I was promoting the season premiere of Love & Hip Hop . He approached me and said, “Mashonda, I have been following your story. I want you to know that your family is going to rise from this.” It was like we were meant to connect at that specific time. We scheduled a time to meet, and our first session turned into what is now an ongoing friendship.
As I drove to Dr. Jeff’s home office in Harlem, I wondered about a number of things. Could I trust him? Would he judge me? To my surprise, he was more open and relatable than I’d ever imagined. I no longer felt as though I was sitting with a doctor; he made his humanity available to me. It allowed me to be comfortable and open up.
Dr. Jeff recognized that I was a very wounded woman presenting a front to the world. I so wanted to be that strong woman pushing through the hurt in order to be present for her son. He assured me that it was important to have that stiff upper lip for Kasseem’s sake, that it was healthier for him if I could maintain dignity in my daily life. However, he also made it clear that I needed to heal and that my healing wasn’t going to happen overnight. He warned me that I would sometimes wake up feeling great. Other times, I would feel absolutely terrible. It was a process, but he promised things would improve steadily.
Dr. Jeff invited me to use our sessions as a place to grieve the separation freely and fully. Talking about my feelings to someone I could truly trust lifted a lot of the pain and relieved large amounts of pressure. Pulling the emotions out of my brain and channeling them verbally was far healthier than drowning them in denial.
I met Terrie Williams, the woman who I now call my godmother, much later, in 2012. I walked out of a meeting, and there she was in the waiting room. Once again, how random. Our eyes met, and there was a magical connection. Terrie, a leader and advocate in the mental health field, was my first psychotherapist. She truly held my hand and my heart through it all. I felt Terrie’s feminine spirit, and she took to mine. Our connection was similar to that of mother and daughter, which provided me with a very deep sense of love and security.
We traveled together, sat on park benches and couches together, cried together, and told each other how much we loved each other. Terrie showed me how to grow day by day. She gave me hope that I could and would experience an abundant life. She also knew I would one day publish my story and told me to never stop writing.
She was a source of protection that my soul needed and couldn’t find anywhere else at the time. She didn’t know anything about my life, so everything was fresh. As humans, sometimes it’s important to experience the freshness that a new relationship carries, a new human interaction. Someone who can see you only in your present state, without all the attachments of your past. That’s what I had with Terrie.
Emma Johnson, the author of The Kickass Single Mom and a popular blogger, made a valuable point about the period immediately after a breakup. You’ll be angry—really angry—at the other person. This is okay. But you should ultimately realize that your feelings are rooted in anger at yourself. Perhaps you’re mad at yourself for picking the wrong guy or for ignoring your goddess-given instincts. It’s easy to play the victim, but just as it takes two people to have a successful relationship, it takes two people for a relationship to not work out. Forgive yourself for the choices you’ve made. Emma said, “If you forgive yourself, you can forgive him, and if you can forgive him, you can forgive yourself. Owning your part in the breakup is really difficult and takes time, but owning responsibility means taking back your power, which you will need to move forward.”
Emma also advised that you be aware of the people who are around you. Those who truly love you might think supporting you or being on “your side” means they need to bash your ex. But you’re never going to move forward if you surround yourself with negative messages. Instead, spend time with people who have overcome hardships where forgiveness was required.
I also think therapy is very helpful. Both Terrie Williams and Dr. Jeff helped me work through my emotions. The sessions weren’t always easy: there were dreadful moments when going back into the past would instantly break me down. But there has to be a willingness to face these tough topics once they are identified.
Perhaps you’ve never considered sitting with a therapist. Perhaps, like me, you were unsure if a therapist was someone you could trust. Or you may think that rehashing the past is a waste of time, that you can get through this phase by just “being strong.” In the immediate aftermath of a separation, I urge you to consider therapy, if only for three or four sessions.
A therapist can offer a fresh way of understanding the entire situation, which cuts a new path for the work you will do on your own. The sessions allow the opportunity to be vulnerable, which is important when you’re working so hard to maintain a strong image for your children and the rest of the world. And, perhaps most important, therapy sessions get you in the practice of mental solitude, of taking time to retreat into the personal, intimate space that is your heart.
In his book Parenting from the Inside Out , Dr. Siegel speaks to the importance of a parent developing a coherent life narrative: “Coherence is a scientific word for when you reflect on the past, really be open to the positive and the negative incidents that have affected you, and then understand what you want to do about those to become the person you want to be.”
In doing this self-work, you can free yourself up from the burdens of the past and be fully present for your child. Therapy was a way for me to reckon with my past, and that was certainly what happened. Remember the question that pressed my spirit after Kasseem was born: How do I begin to become the person I need to be for this soul I brought into the world? The answer was to reconcile with my past.
When a parent wrestles with their own emotional turmoil, it hinders the growth of the parent/child relationship. One must settle into a deep understanding of self in order to stand a chance at optimizing one’s ability to attach and connect to their child. Being fully present for your child is especially vital during a divorce. To be present is to show up mentally and emotionally, prepared to offer empathy and comfort. That’s nearly impossible if you’re still swirling in confusion.
“Make sense of your life so that you can be present and show up for your child.” —Dr. Dan Siegel
Whether your relationship ended abruptly or was the result of a slow decline, the finality of a divorce or separation can be a severe rupture to the spirit if your expectations don’t meet your relationship’s final reality. It’s like an earthquake. The ground you’ve been standing on moves, and the instability can tip you into making choices you wouldn’t have otherwise made. Some of us fall into the cracks of sadness. Others patch ourselves up so that the world sees us as having it all together. The immediate task is to regain your composure, your peace. You have to get to the point where you accept your new normal. I had to withdraw from those things and those people who ignited my ego. I used the power of breathing to recenter myself in the present moment. I used exercise to release stress from my body, to have something to physically pull me out of self-conflict.
You have to find a way to heal the fracture; otherwise you won’t have the energy or the foundation to do the deeper healing work needed to effectively co-parent. Every parent’s goal is to have a child who thrives. Dr. Siegel explained the thriving child as one who has learned to know herself, has learned how to be compassionate and empathetic. The thriving child rises to challenges without collapsing and approaches life prepared to realize their full potential intellectually, emotionally, socially. If a parent is walking around broken, the energy will manifest negatively in the child. As parents, we can’t afford to fall apart; our children’s spirits and their sense of security are at risk.
There is an insurmountable relief that comes with taking action to move in a different life direction. Seeking therapy was one of the most worthwhile gifts I could’ve ever given myself.
Gifting myself. That was one of the biggest corners I turned during this time in my life. Giving myself the gift of breath. Giving myself the gift of mental and physical exercise. Giving myself the gift of therapy.
I wasn’t in the habit of being generous with Mashonda. I allowed the world around me to have too much control over my spiritual freedom, and I began to lose hope. I walked into a tattoo parlor and asked the artist to drill the seven-letter word “LOYALTY” into my hand. That tattoo was by far the most painful one of the ten I have. At the time, all I thought was, “You have to bring a new meaning to this word.” I had been addicted to loyalty—loyalty to my husband and loyalty to my marriage. Once I began to rebuild my spirit, loyalty meant something new. It meant being at one with myself, loving Mashonda, and protecting her heart, soul, and energy first. That was one of the greatest lessons this whole experience taught me, and I share it now with you: Value yourself. Find a balance between loving yourself and loving others, but never sacrifice your worth. My tattoo now reminds me that loyalty starts within.
Value yourself. Find a balance between loving yourself and loving others, but never sacrifice your worth. Loyalty always starts within.