I’ve never had a good relationship with my dad. My parents divorced when I was little, they fought in court over my brother and I, in the end my brother went to live with my dad and I lived with mum. Then started the alternate weekends as each others house. I hated it.
My dad was hardly present when I went to his house, he constantly moved house, had so many different girlfriends, including the one that he had an affair with while married to my mum. If he was around, he was either hung over, drinking, playing sport or having mates over. We were left home countless times, even as young kids.
I was always the outcast. I particularly remember a Christmas when the other 4 kids got brand new sparkling bikes. I got a hand me down. As a little kid I really noticed that. I heard the word no a lot.
I won’t even go into the abuse that went on behind closed doors. Not by my dad, but by other kids. SA.
Despite all of this, my brother and I were close. And as we grew up, and I stopped visiting every second weekend, and my relationship with my father changed, we remained close.
Over the last 20 or so years, my dad and I would speak maybe a couple of times a year on the phone. That would be it. The phone calls consisted of him asking how I was, me saying yeah ok… or something along them lines, him telling me all about his ‘wonderful’ life and then abruptly ending the conversation and saying goodbye. There has never been any interest in my life. And maybe that’s cause I have kept him at arms length.
Today I messaged my brother asking if he was coming up for Christmas. He said no way as he was up earlier in the year. I called him a grinch! He then replied and went on a massive rant about how he always comes up here (which is true, but it’s easier, cheaper and more realistic for him to come up than all of us to go down), and he went on about how I haven’t spoken to my father in ages. I asked him to keep out of my relationship with dad. He responded with ‘well I know whose side I am on the same side I’ve always been on.
That really hurt. I’ve never heard him speak the way that he did to me today.
My brother really has no idea how our childhood affected me. The things that happened to me. And I could never tell him.
I remember having a conversation with my brother after my marriage ended. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him what my ex did. Nothing I said to him would convince him that my ex cheated and had a homosexual affair. I had to pull out some of the evidence that I had kept, and still I don’t think he believes me.
So many men in my life have let me down. Men can’t be trusted.
I feel all the more broken tonight. I’m sad.
