Father story part three.

I spread my wings and bought my first shithole house to call my own. To explain my next years living alone would be to liken it to running fast off the end of a cliff believing you could fly. I ran off the end of the cliff with enthusiasm and for the first two seconds enjoyed the feeling of freedom that flying had provided. Unfortunately this was followed by plummeting. I had struggles with drink, drugs and womankind but money was the biggest mistake. I only bring this up because when I was at my lowest, the person I chose to talk to was my dad. This meant a lot to me and I hoped it meant a lot to me. So I met my dad in his local pub and close to tears of despair I said I was in a mess and didn't know how to get out. My dad listened and looked at his watch to see his tea would be on the table like clockwork and said "well I've got to go now for my tea, but don't go do anything stupid like killing yourself" and with that he went.
I wandered halfway home to moorland where I played as a child and just wanted to lay down and never wake up. 
This feeling is as close to giving up as I'm able to do. And I saw that suicide was never going to be a reality for me. Nothing would be that bad. So I rang my mum in tears of humiliation and she picked me up and drove me home. Mum did this on a number of occasions over the years and saw me and said" I take it you've been to see your dad".
At my lowest ebb my father had not come through for me, infact he had been horrible.
Add to this a boxing day conversation about my researching my family tree and my dad saying well there's the girl I had before I met your mum. This rocked my world. 
"what fucking girl??"
"you know about her"
"well clearly I don't"
So this was when I stormed out and home to sob. Even in my early twenties my dad could upset me enormously. I was mostly robotic and emotionless all the time but my dad was my achilles heel. The dissapointment with my dad hurts like nothing else. But by now my emotions were starting a revolt. 
The next birthday my dad and wife visited me and I stopped them at the door and just said " sorry I'm busy". 
I turned them away and although it made me look a prick, a battle was won. 
I started to replace unconditional love for my dad with seeing him as just a man who slept with my mum. He was my dad but he'd never been a FATHER to me. I even considered always referring to him by his first name but decided I should still respect him enough to call him dad even if it meant nothing to him. 

Continued tomorrow