Mouth Engage Brain
Gah. Why? Why do I do it to myself?
Dad just rang to give me a message to pass on to my brother about tomorrow. Fine, fair enough. I can handle being an answer phone service. Then he starts being nice, enquiring into what I have been doing lately. This is not so strange when I actually see my father but it is quite uncommon for this to progress into a full conversation. He even goes on to question me about when I'm going away and whether or not I'm "doing the festival" (Edinburgh Fringe) this year or not.
Somehow this evolves into a conversation about the Samaritans and how I shouldn't be employing my father's techniques if I join Nightline next year. He has a very no nosense attitude that is typical of working class, North East England. "Get on with life you get off the bus" was the exact turn of phrase. Then he proceeded to tell me that some people just need to be given a reality check as all they want is to offload their problems on other people. He has a very low view of depression. Anyone who knows me know this couldn't be any further from my own views. I get irritated with people who claim depression that are not, in fact, depressed. On the other hand, I am highly tolerable of those who have mental health issues or anything that makes them break from the normative social mainstream. Many of my friends see counsellors and I am considering attending some sessions myself in an attempt to prevent myself from obsessing over issues. Most of which pertain to my father.
Anyway, something in me just snapped tonight. I just replied with: "Yes, well, some people are just selfish like that." He rambled some answer and my mind just went blank with annoyance before quickly blurting out "Look, I'm annoyed at you right now so I am going to put the phone down and let you think about why I am annoyed. I doubt you will figure it out but I can't keep talking to you. Night." I just put the phone down on him.
The problem: when I was about 14 my parents split up. My dad had an affair and is now married to this woman and lives with her and her two kids. I rarely see him. Ten minutes a week when I am home is a rough average - possibly an over zealous one at that. At the age of 14 I told my father I hated him. I barely saw him whilst some other woman's kids got him every evening after work and on days off. Even when living with us I never got that. My father was a faint presence thoughout my childhood. When I confronted him on this he called me selfish for wanting to spend more time with him. Apparently he had already spread himself thin and that "woman and the kids needed him too."
He was, is, my Dad, my father and I will always be his last priority. Always have been, always will be. No matter how much I remind myself of this, harden myself to it, I can't help but hope. He's changed, hit 40 and became a father. 18 years too late for me but good for my brother and step-brothers. Still, I hope he can start to treat me like a daughter. I work hard, I do my family proud yet all his words are hollow as there is never any time attached to them. Is one evening, a drink in the pub or just a quick meal too much to ask for. Invitations to family barbeques or get togethers too difficult to organise? One extra person just too much?
Biologically he may be my father but, save for a handful of tainted memories, he will never be my Dad.
Dad just rang to give me a message to pass on to my brother about tomorrow. Fine, fair enough. I can handle being an answer phone service. Then he starts being nice, enquiring into what I have been doing lately. This is not so strange when I actually see my father but it is quite uncommon for this to progress into a full conversation. He even goes on to question me about when I'm going away and whether or not I'm "doing the festival" (Edinburgh Fringe) this year or not.
Somehow this evolves into a conversation about the Samaritans and how I shouldn't be employing my father's techniques if I join Nightline next year. He has a very no nosense attitude that is typical of working class, North East England. "Get on with life you get off the bus" was the exact turn of phrase. Then he proceeded to tell me that some people just need to be given a reality check as all they want is to offload their problems on other people. He has a very low view of depression. Anyone who knows me know this couldn't be any further from my own views. I get irritated with people who claim depression that are not, in fact, depressed. On the other hand, I am highly tolerable of those who have mental health issues or anything that makes them break from the normative social mainstream. Many of my friends see counsellors and I am considering attending some sessions myself in an attempt to prevent myself from obsessing over issues. Most of which pertain to my father.
Anyway, something in me just snapped tonight. I just replied with: "Yes, well, some people are just selfish like that." He rambled some answer and my mind just went blank with annoyance before quickly blurting out "Look, I'm annoyed at you right now so I am going to put the phone down and let you think about why I am annoyed. I doubt you will figure it out but I can't keep talking to you. Night." I just put the phone down on him.
The problem: when I was about 14 my parents split up. My dad had an affair and is now married to this woman and lives with her and her two kids. I rarely see him. Ten minutes a week when I am home is a rough average - possibly an over zealous one at that. At the age of 14 I told my father I hated him. I barely saw him whilst some other woman's kids got him every evening after work and on days off. Even when living with us I never got that. My father was a faint presence thoughout my childhood. When I confronted him on this he called me selfish for wanting to spend more time with him. Apparently he had already spread himself thin and that "woman and the kids needed him too."
He was, is, my Dad, my father and I will always be his last priority. Always have been, always will be. No matter how much I remind myself of this, harden myself to it, I can't help but hope. He's changed, hit 40 and became a father. 18 years too late for me but good for my brother and step-brothers. Still, I hope he can start to treat me like a daughter. I work hard, I do my family proud yet all his words are hollow as there is never any time attached to them. Is one evening, a drink in the pub or just a quick meal too much to ask for. Invitations to family barbeques or get togethers too difficult to organise? One extra person just too much?
Biologically he may be my father but, save for a handful of tainted memories, he will never be my Dad.