It has been only recently that I found out my Bio-logical father wasn’t my actual father. It has been sending me into a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts ever since. It was Aug 23rd when I found out. I will refer to the man I grew up with as J. and the man who is my real and true bio-logical Father G. My mom always told me “Any man can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad”
I don’t really know where to start when it comes to this whole situation. I myself am confused emotionally by it. Yet somehow I still need to let it out.
I grew up in a VERY quiet home. It was a 2 bedroom apartment. With just my mom and dad (J). I grew up as an only child. immediate family was scarce. On my Fathers side (J) his side of the family lived far away, to far for us to have regular visits. On my mothers side, well, there were rare visits. They did live much closer, however my mom and my grandmother didn’t get along. My mom and her sister were rivals. I was never able to foster any type of relationship with my cousin on that side. Needless to say, it was our 3 member family against the world. I spent my time playing alone in my room.
I did have friends who lived on my street. about 5 of them. They all hated each other so I would have to play with them individually. I was that friend that always slept over at other peoples houses. Especially when J and my mom would fight. I hated when they fought. Sometimes it was drug educed, or alcohol. I actually hated the ones where no substances were involved. That just left there own pride’s to blame. Sometimes things were thrown, sometimes cops were called. For years, the battle would slowly morph into a war.
There were times I would like to refer to as “the silent times”. This is where my mother and J would stop talking to each other. an already quiet home turned deafening silent. It was the “Ask your mother to pass the salt” situation. Petty. It was better to not be home.
My mom was able to escape too. She found volunteer work, and regular work kept her occupied and out of the home. Gave her purpose I suppose. My already small family would feel so much smaller when she was gone. Just J and I. J spent most of his time on his computer. Playing Poker, or golf..who knows I never really paid attention. J would never really ask me how my day was when I got home. He was a quiet man, he would only really speak when spoken too. He was a loner, not many friends that I have seen all those years.
When my mom started leaving for business trips for weekends, conferences, workshops.. It bothered J. I understood why she was leaving. She was being selfish in a way, but I understood it. She needed to be selfish. At least, I understand now that I look back on it.
J and I never really talked much about what was going on in my life. When I was 10 my mother went on a conference over my birthday. J hated it! He would vent to me about it. I listened because well, that’s the only time I really got to hear him speak. even negative communication was better than nothing. Before I knew it, every time my mother was gone he would vent to me…not only about the fact she was gone again,but it slowly turned into a vent session about everything that was going wrong in there marriage. I would listen…for hours at a time. I turned into Daddy’s little counselor.
As the years passed I developed more and more resentment towards my mom. The more they fighted the more I saw J as a hero. Our tiny little trio, slowly became 1 Vs 2.
I finally found Jesus and got saved. I had a home church, I loved going. J hated it. He hated that I went to Bible Study on Wednesdays nights. I never really raised my voice at J. I knew better, I was raised right in that respect. One day I came home from Bible Study, I remember it perfectly. I was about 16 or so. As I walked in he said “I see you’ve been sending time at that cult again. I don’t want you going back” Mind you, it was just a Pentecostal Church. nothing crazy about it. I did nothing in my behavior to warrent concern. He just didn’t like church. I walked to the end of the hall, I stopped beside my bedroom door. He said “Look at me while I am talking to you!” I turned around. I said “J (Actually using his first name here) you really have to choose your battles. Kids my age our out doing worse things on a wednesday night. At any given time at school I can have access to ectacy, coke, Pot, and even meth! I can be out fucking every teenage boy I see. I can be out there picking up bottles and chugging them! But instead I want to pick up a Bible and spend my Wendesday evenings in a church! This is every parents dream for there teenager! And you want to fight me over it?! Seriously? Get your priorities straight, I know I have!” Walked into my room and slowly closed the door. That was the last time he ever brought it up.
I will continue later on, this has been emotionally exhausting for me to write, but I am glad I am getting it out.