I Thought I Knew...but I Was Wrong...
I grew up believing I knew who my father was. I didn't know him personally or anything, but I had a name. Even an address. And a very old photograph...which didn't even have me in it.
When I was 11, my mom told me a long sob-story about how my 'real' father abused and neglected us, how awful/crazy/mean he was...and that HE didn't want ME. (Not to mention my younger brother (by 2 years) who (supposedly) has the same biological father.) This was after a 'surprise' run in with my 'dad' and his new wife and kids (funny how they always end up with a whole new family, isn't it?) at a local supermarket.
Fast forward two years, past years of REAL abuse and neglect from my mom's endless string of lovers, boyfriends, affairs, and later, a new husband and daughter--who is, of course, infinitely better than I am/was. The truth about my parentage finally comes out--she has NO IDEA WHATSOEVER who my actual father is/was. Apparently, the 80s weren't any less crazy than the 60s and 70s in Oklahoma, because there were not 2, not 3 but 4!!!! candidates up for the title.
Now, I try not to be judgemental about such things...but COME ON!!! How on earth can you LIE about who your child's father is/isn't for nearly 16 YEARS...just to come out with the truth--that you know NOTHING.
I always thought it was unfair that I was abandoned...fatherless...but now I know I was blaming my unhappiness on the wrong person. It wasn't the man (2 of whom don't even know I exist, third has been ruled out, and the 4th (brother's bio-dad) who refuses to rule himself out via a DNA test...).
I know there are a lot of people out there searching for fathers who abandoned them...and it breaks my heart. I don't envy them their search or their wait...because mine is now triple that---convincing one and finding two others...ugh. It never ends...