Chapter 1: Understanding the Past

I was just a child when my father walked out on us, leaving a sense of confusion that lingered as I grew older. With time, I grasped one undeniable truth: had he not abandoned his marriage, my mother would have never left him. Her unwavering love and boundless heart would have kept her committed.

She viewed him through a lens of idealism, forever seeing the charming man she initially adored. He would always be the captivating dancer on The Arthur Murray Party, a beloved television program. He would remain the joyful and promising figure she first encountered.

Surprisingly, I felt relief when my father departed. It may sound strange, but it was a blessing in disguise. A five-year-old might have mourned the absence of a father, yet as a young adult, I recognized the truth.

Recently, while speaking with a divorced friend, I shared, “My marriage wasn’t healthy. Even my children encouraged me to leave their father.”

“That’s unusual for a child to say,” she responded. “My kids never did that.”

“I thought you mentioned one of them did,” I remarked.

“Oh,” she replied, “that was later on when they were older.”

“My children witnessed a healthier relationship deteriorate,” I explained. “Children are perceptive; they can sense when an environment becomes toxic. They instinctively seek safety. Their reactions may differ if they’ve only known a certain situation.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired.

“I’m the youngest in my family,” I noted. “I only saw my father’s negative behaviors. My older siblings occasionally experienced reconciliations, but for me, that was the norm. My kids, however, observed a positive relationship decline into toxicity. This might have made them more vocal. I was already in high school when I finally told my mother they should never try to reconcile again.”

This conversation reinforced a truth I had long known: I am my mother’s daughter, and I too wore my own pair of rose-colored glasses.

“My marriage counselor once told me, ‘Colleen, your husband keeps revealing his true self, but you refuse to accept it.’”

My father battled alcoholism. My mother understood the harsh realities of this condition. Despite knowing he lacked the will to quit drinking, her heart could not accept it.

Her rose-colored glasses prevented her from letting go. She held onto hope and believed in a love that would last forever.

However, those glasses never darkened, even when they should have. The man she once loved was gone, replaced by a man ensnared by addiction.

For her, it didn’t matter. Her rose-colored glasses remained unchanged.

But for me, they eventually turned black. Perhaps this was due to the insights gained through marriage counseling—something not as accessible to my mother during her struggles.

A professional's guidance may have opened my eyes, or perhaps it was the inner child of mine that recognized the futility of staying with someone who continually harmed himself and our family. I could no longer wear the rose-colored lenses.

They had lost their hue, and I could no longer focus on the best in someone who was causing destruction.

Chapter 2: Reflections on Relationships

The first video, "Rose Colored Glasses," delves into the complexities of perception in relationships and how we often overlook the harsh realities behind our loved ones' facades.

The second video, "FFXIV: Rose-Colored Spectacles - 6.45 Variant Reward," explores themes of perception and reality in the context of gaming, drawing parallels to personal relationships and the illusions we often maintain.