I think the most detrimental thing about growing up and not knowing who you father is, isn’t his absence but the reason behind that absence being told by those who are still there.
When I was younger I never thought it mattered that I didn’t have a dad in my life. I was reminded all the time by various people that growing up and being raised by a single mother put me at a disadvantage. I am not sure if this was normal but I always heard people mention how hard it must be for me and my mom, even though we lived in a house hold that had a few male figures, I had a few uncles and grandpa’s floating around, I was still made aware of my “handicap” quite often.
I never really wanted to find or meet my bio-dad. I was never interested in finding out why he was never around or what happened between him and my mom that made him not want to be a part of my life. And to be honest to this day I am not really all that interested in finding him. I feel like he should be looking for me. However, if he were, it wouldn’t be that difficult seeing as I still live in the small county that he left me in.
I don’t have any lingering hatred toward him I just don’t know what I would do with him should I meet him. In a way I don’t really see that I have a need for him now. I don’t see how he can help me at this stage of my life. Most people that I have spoken to about this seem to look at me with pity in their eyes that says they think I cry myself to sleep at night thinking of him. That I am some wounded soul that never knew the love of a daddy. Like I am lying to myself to make life seem ok. That isn’t true. I just honestly don’t know how to miss what I never had.
It wasn’t until I left home for college that I started to realize what I might be missing. I often tell people that going away to school is what saved me. It wasn’t until I started to see that the life that I knew wasn’t normal. I grew up in quite a dysfunctional home. I experienced a lot of abuse and saw a lot of things I probably didn’t need to see. I was a part of a lot of situations that I really didn’t need to be a part of. And while my mom did her best I think that she too grew up in dysfunction so a lot of things were normal for her.
It’s not like my mom didn’t try to fill the void. There was a guy that I thought was my dad for most of my child life. My family, however, was very adamant on telling me that he wasn’t. I never knew who to believe so I just ignored everyone. Later on, as I grew up I found that in my family, the truth about dads is a lost art. I’ve discovered that most of us have no idea who our real fathers are. And the ones that know the truth lie. It’s a crazy thing we do but I can count at least 7 family members who have no real clue to who their dad really is. And the persons that did or do know the truth are dead or refuse to tell. And I suppose we could go and do the research and all that to find out but I think, or at least I know for me, it feels like the ultimate rejection. Knowing that there is someone that is out there alive and aware of you but has chosen to forget you. To put your heart on the line and go knocking on doors that may not be answered; or get slammed in your face seems more humiliating then just being forgotten.
While I never blamed my actual bio-dad for his disappearing acts, I always figured it was my mom’s doing. I am sure they had their reasons, but my mom was the one that lied for most of my life. On the day I found my birth certificate and found that there was another name on it that didn’t match the man I knew and The royal beating I got for “snooping through her things”, it was that moment that I lost faith in my mom. Instead of coming out and telling me the truth she blamed me. I never and I still don’t understand why she wasn’t honest with me. To be quite honest, I don’t think I have ever trusted my mom since then. If she could lie to me about who I am to fit her comfort then how could I ever believe that she would tell me the truth about anything. I realized then and learned it to be the unfortunate truth up to now, that that particular situation would not be the end of my mom’s dishonesty with me.
I look around and see a lot of my friends who were raised with fathers around and I notice a lot of differences between us. One thing that is monumentally different is self-value. I didn’t believe that I was worth anything in my life. Throughout the years that was reaffirmed to me by certain family members that would harshly remind me often. And while, the dysfunction of my upbringing played a bigger part in that I just notice that my friends who grew up with their dads around have a better vision of themselves than I do. Even the ones that went through divorce.
I guess I am sitting her and thinking about what life may have been like if I would have known my father when I was younger. Now that I am an adult, while I feel what could be considered an empty space in my life due to his absence, I just don’t know what to do with those feelings. I don’t want to find or track down a strange man that want nothing to do with me, but I also don’t want to mope through life desiring something that I have only seen through others or on TV.
I guess I’ll figure it out someday.
To be continued…
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