So I’m going to be a bit of a wet blanket today. So sue me. I’m reposting a Facebook rant here because of the insensitivity of some people with regards to this (i.e. some remarks “at least you still have yours.”). Many of us have deep seated pain on these days, and I’m no exception.
If you want to stop reading now, no problem. I understand. If you dare to continue, please try not to be too judgmental and be forewarned there is some very strong antinatalist language in this rant. If you are offended by such I suggest you stop reading.
I repost this not to make anyone feel sorry for me, but to hopefully make you think twice about passing judgment on a total stranger for any reason. You just don’t know what they’re enduring.
It’s officially Father’s Day, a day that is admittedly quite painful for me. Not because of my lack of children (I wouldn’t have them if you paid me!) but because of a painful past.
The man who is half responsible for imposing existence upon me without my consent is nonexistent in my life and never really was a part of it. He left my mother before I was even born. They were actually separated at the time I was conceived. I was the result of a broken condom and a one night stand after my grandfather (who I never met) passed away. He never tried to communicate with me as a child and I didn’t even talk to him for the first time until I was 21 years old when he sent his daughter (only child from his 2nd marriage) to scout me on social media (then MySpace), and even then he only did that because of a massive accident he had that shocked him and brought me back into his conscious mind. Like really? Guilty conscience much? Needless to say the lines of communication weren’t open for long.
Enter my step-father almost six years after I was born. He was hot-headed, ill-tempered and closed minded. He thought from the start I was just some problem child with discipline problems and was bound and determined to beat me into submission. Little did he know that I was just autistic and I couldn’t help it. Our relationship would be turbulent all the way until age 14 when the school counselors implored him and my mother to get me an evaluation. It was only then he listened to reason, though I had long suspected I was on the autism spectrum due to a late night news report on it a few years prior. He just didn’t want to accept it and thought it was a figment of my imagination.
All that said, it is my step-father’s surname that I bear. That was made official not too long after they married and he’s been the only real father figure I’ve ever had. In my adult years I’ve somehow found a way to forgive him for his past transgressions and today we have a pretty good relationship. We still have our issues on occasion but it’s not as bad as it used to be.
As for my biological father? I haven’t heard from him in 10 years and I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again. He and his daughter just seem to have no interest in it. I guess in a way I don’t blame them. I’m a total weirdo and I’m sure too weird for them. Whatever. I try not to dwell on it but sometimes it’s hard.
I do not post this story for sympathy or pity. Rather, my intention is just to remind everyone that many of us have endured pain that one cannot know of or comprehend. Maybe it’ll give you a brief moment of pause before you pass judgment on a total stranger. You don’t know what they’ve been through.