Here be (boring) dragons

Before going further into uncharted lands, it's better to get back to the map and see where the journey has started. And where it drifted off its course.

This is the part of the journey I took with my father.

When a man really loves a woman, they usually kiss and a baby is born. Sometimes, it's all about babies born under a cauliflower or babies delivered to the families by a stork, rather than the boring bees and the flowers.

But, I guess you get the gist of it, if you're at least 13 years old.

My dad was a car seller with a thriving passion for Rally (in fact he was a pilot and president of various clubs around the area) and my mom was a teacher with a thriving passion for Rally (in fact, she was a navigator) and well, you know how things go, so I'll fast forward this bit.

It wasn't a dark and stormy night when I was born, but rather a hot and sunny early morning in June; I came to this world and both of them did their best to raise me. Their best, I won't judge. While my mother was (and still is) with her feet well planted on the earth, my father rolled from one thing to another just to avoid being a parent. I cannot talk from experience, but I guess not everyone feel that urge to be a parent. He didn't, or at least he needed time to tune himself to that urge.

Anyhoo, let's fast forward again to my childhood.

Having said – or better, written – that he did not feel that parental instinct, things were a bit complicated growing up. I clearly remember the time we spent together as the most annoying thing ever, and I'm sure he felt that same way. We didn't click and we both knew that.

While he enjoyed being with his friends and their kids (mostly because I would be engaged with the other kids, although I was a bit of an introvert), the time spent in family felt like a sorta burden for him. Not that he despised it in the open, but he was angry all the time. And with him being angry all the time, for the life of me I cannot remember a single Christmas day or a family vacation in which I didn't cry after a futile discussion.

Could I have been too needy? Was I obnoxious? Am I broken glass and he didn't want to stay with me? I guess I'll never know.

Fast forward to when my brother was born, 10 years later.

My father – well, how can I phrase this – started being a father; not for me, of course, I was already gone, damaged merchandise beyond salvation. But for my brother, well, he was.

Although envious, I also felt glad he found it in him to finally act as a father. I loved my brother and I still do, so I'm glad he didn't have to go through what I did instead. Even though I continued going through all of that during family time, he wasn't. Glass half full, I dare say.

And in a snap, I was 13. And that's when it all ended.

#Past #Depression #Father #Family

The journey into the adult life is basically moving on uncharted areas of the map. And there, there be dragons.

Alex