I dunno why I'm having so much trouble staying in line with your comms, but I have been missing them...sorry, keep finding everything heaps late. You tack some good stuff on the ends of other posts..
Anyway...re: contacting your son
There is obviously lots to weigh up and if you think counselling would help sort those things, then I say go for it.
I will throw in my experience. It may be worth mixing into the pot...
I grew up without my Dad. He had the common sense to leave my Mum when I was 3, but he forgot to make room in his suitcase for me... so I was raised by my Grandparents, until my Mum remarried when I was 10 and dragged me back into her "Let's pretend we're all happy" nightmare.
My grandparents were very compassionate people. They raised me with the idea that my Dad was a nice guy who liked a laugh, and they always maintained he'd never been disrespectful to them. My Mum on the other hand, resented the air that she still had to share with him. My misbehaviours and problematic existence were (she always told me) the result of his " bad blood". I grew up pretty confused by all this.. and the more difficult things got at home, the more I felt I needed to find him. I hung on to the idea that somewhere out there, I had a Dad who was probably going to understand that mistakes are made, and it doesn't make us bad people.
I found him when I was 19, and he jumped on a plane and flew across Aus to meet with me. It was a bit uncomfortable at first.. after years of wondering and waiting, I found I didn't really have much to say. The first thing he said to me was I always knew you'd come looking for me one day! When he'd put me back down and released me from a giant bear hug, I asked him...So why did I have to? It took 3 get togethers before he answered that question, and it was that moment when I really felt a connection with him.
It took me about 10 years to start calling him Dad. I dunno why, but it just felt weird for such a long time. He's a major pisshead, and he has those cheeks...roadmaps of burst capilleries and every now and then I get drunken phone calls where he slurrs down the line... I aaaaalways luuuurved ya kid.
You know what Stan?...I'm totally happy with that. In all honesty, I never needed any more than that. My brother is different, he and Mum were always close, so he helps her carry the resentment that has just got far too big for her to carry on her own after all this time. So, I can't pretend it's all been peachy for Dad. He laughs with me, and tolerates my brothers nonsense, and says what we have makes it worthwhile putting up with.
There's a good chance I inherited my Dad's footballers thighs...and we both have to watch our sugar...and there's no doubt we share the same laugh and weird sense of humour. He's happy drinking, I wasn't. He was the only family member who has always fully supported my recovery. Yeah, I got his blood, but it's not bad blood, Stan. All the genetic problems in the world could never detract from the fact my Dad loves me and always did. I really needed to hear that.
Maybe your kid does too?
stancamden said
Apr 7, 2005
Thanks Nic for your perspective and experience.
It is a very scarey thing to do after so many decades.
Hey Stan,
I dunno why I'm having so much trouble staying in line with your comms, but I have been missing them...sorry, keep finding everything heaps late. You tack some good stuff on the ends of other posts..
Anyway...re: contacting your son
There is obviously lots to weigh up and if you think counselling would help sort those things, then I say go for it.
I will throw in my experience. It may be worth mixing into the pot...
I grew up without my Dad. He had the common sense to leave my Mum when I was 3, but he forgot to make room in his suitcase for me... so I was raised by my Grandparents, until my Mum remarried when I was 10 and dragged me back into her "Let's pretend we're all happy" nightmare.
My grandparents were very compassionate people. They raised me with the idea that my Dad was a nice guy who liked a laugh, and they always maintained he'd never been disrespectful to them. My Mum on the other hand, resented the air that she still had to share with him. My misbehaviours and problematic existence were (she always told me) the result of his " bad blood". I grew up pretty confused by all this.. and the more difficult things got at home, the more I felt I needed to find him. I hung on to the idea that somewhere out there, I had a Dad who was probably going to understand that mistakes are made, and it doesn't make us bad people.
I found him when I was 19, and he jumped on a plane and flew across Aus to meet with me. It was a bit uncomfortable at first.. after years of wondering and waiting, I found I didn't really have much to say. The first thing he said to me was I always knew you'd come looking for me one day! When he'd put me back down and released me from a giant bear hug, I asked him...So why did I have to? It took 3 get togethers before he answered that question, and it was that moment when I really felt a connection with him.
It took me about 10 years to start calling him Dad. I dunno why, but it just felt weird for such a long time. He's a major pisshead, and he has those cheeks...roadmaps of burst capilleries and every now and then I get drunken phone calls where he slurrs down the line... I aaaaalways luuuurved ya kid.
You know what Stan?...I'm totally happy with that. In all honesty, I never needed any more than that. My brother is different, he and Mum were always close, so he helps her carry the resentment that has just got far too big for her to carry on her own after all this time. So, I can't pretend it's all been peachy for Dad. He laughs with me, and tolerates my brothers nonsense, and says what we have makes it worthwhile putting up with.
There's a good chance I inherited my Dad's footballers thighs
...and we both have to watch our sugar
...and there's no doubt we share the same laugh and weird sense of humour.
He's happy drinking, I wasn't. He was the only family member who has always fully supported my recovery. Yeah, I got his blood, but it's not bad blood, Stan. All the genetic problems in the world could never detract from the fact my Dad loves me and always did. I really needed to hear that.
Maybe your kid does too?