My biggest fear.

My biggest fear.

As a child there was always something, someone I was ALWAYS curious about. Someone that I ‘was’. Someone who made me, did not bring me up, just made me. Planted the seed as such. That person was my biological father. A man who disgusts me now, but when I was younger I felt like I wanted. When really, I just wanted to see him. See that the stories were true, see the true colours.

So, I spent every birthday and every Christmas waiting for a card. A piece of printed paper saying ‘happy birthday son’ or even just a balloon. But no. Nothing. Ever. I used to get upset every birthday, a birthday was my day – a day I should be so happy. But when it came to Christmas I was just as down, until I would look up and realise the numerous amounts of loved ones around me. Who didn’t need to give me a card for me to feel loved, I could see it in their eyes.

It was not until just over a year ago I decided enough was enough, it was time to find this man, ‘Dad’ as I should call him. I found him. His address, his job, his family, the times he left and entered his home and who lived there. Anything I needed or wanted to know, was in front of me. Black and white. But that wasn’t enough, I wanted to look this creature in the eye and remember everything he did to my mother and family. I wanted to hurt this man, badly. So I set off with my step brother. We sat outside for a good hour or two until I had got myself ready for what was, a life changer.

Instead of a knock at the door, I just gently tapped hoping no one would answer and I could convince myself he wasn’t there. But no, this tall, broad and quite honestly rude man answered the door. He knew exactly who I was. He stepped outside and asked who I was and why I was at his door at that time of night. So before I answered any questions I told him this. ‘I am Thomas, your son. The child you ran away from and then hurt my family. I am you, I’m not like you at all. But I am you’. SLAM. The door was shut in my face and a lady appeared, his wife. Some pumped up little b@*%h, is all I saw her as. She told me he was getting his jacket and shoes. She knew who I was and she was shocked, to say the least. She told me I was beautiful and looked just like my ‘father’ I laughed. A lot. Purely with arrogance.

We had our ‘chat’ and decided to meet again in a mutual ground. It wasn’t nice and it most certainly wasn’t something I can bring myself to talk about for a while. But I shall do a post soon. I promise.

I found myself lost in my head for months, even up until a few months ago. This man was horrible, abusive and not human. He had no heart, and most certainly was not like me in any shape or form. This man was not my father. I did not even need to tell myself that, I knew he was not. Maybe by blood he was, but not as a figure or as someone I looked up to. Once I had noticed this frame of thought in my head, I was happy. I woke up one morning and without thinking I looked around and said ‘Dad pass me the Orange juice’ my step Dad was beyond shocked. He heard that word come from my mouth. D-a-d. DAD. The first time I had ever said it.

Ever since that day I’ve been happier, I’m not happy in my head – but I’m happier. I have my Dad, and I have conquered my biggest fear in life. Meeting that man and then blocking him out. It was done, forever. A stepping stone to success in my life.


Here’s a little information about me before I continue with my life story. At the moment I am a 21 year old male, living in the UK with my mother and step father and younger brother. I work five days and three nights a week, earning as much as I can whilst still finding time to enjoy my life. I was born and bred in the UK my whole life, occasionally going on a family holiday once a year, typically France. I have a step brother and step sister who are both older than me and live two hundred plus miles west of where I currently live. My home is friendly, clean, relaxed with the rare occasion of some kind of clash with my family – but as I have grown older that habit has stopped and I have grown out of letting my anger out on people. But we will get to that later.

So now you have a rough idea of where I am and where I’m from we can progress to why I even decided ‘blogging’ would be a good idea for me. I have had my fair share of bad events in my time, recently it got to a point that I could not bare and have lost myself within my own body and brain. I have let my own emotions push someone so far away beyond the point of return, which has left me suffering from the inside. ‘It’s a thing of life’ I tell myself. Everyday. ‘She’ll be back’. ‘She just needs to miss me’. Yes, i’m talking about my ex partner. Somebody I care for deeply and found happiness in. Losing her made me realise a lot of things, mainly the fact that I as a person am not happy. At all.

So lets rewind the clock three/four years, I was the typical seventeen year old. I had a motorbike, I could get into the local bar and buy myself a beer with friends – I had it all! I had the job everyone wanted, money, girls, friends – the list goes on. But, as you may have noticed I have not mentioned my biological father yet. This man was someone who ‘loved’ my mother supposedly, fathered me and then left. He never saw his child see the light of day, he never saw the smiles, heard the cry or even felt the warmth of my skin when I slept. He just, left. He found another woman, someone less than who my mother is – but clearly made him feel more. To myself there is nobody in this world better than my mother, she’s beautiful, kind, clean, caring and would do anything for quite literally anyone, regardless. But this man could not see that. He brushed his wife and child off quicker than I could take a fifty pound note out of a cash machine. So, my mother was left to bring me up as a single parent, but not for long. At the age of roughly three she met my step father who she married, had another child with and eventually, through a lot of pain, arguments and stress. Made me the person I am today.

Back to the happy seventeen year old I was. I was ‘loving’ life to the average person, but inside I was hurting and there was quite literally nothing I could say to anyone about it, I felt embarrassed, alone, scared and maybe you could say I was hurting. I had never seen this man, not a picture, nothing. All I knew was that he was a British Marine who eventually made it into the SAS. But that ‘status’ meant nothing, after all he may have done his part for the country but he did not do his job role for his child. I spent years and years and years praying at night that something would pop up, I hated birthdays and I most certainly did not enjoy christmas and the word ‘Dad’ sent shivers down my spine. Sad to say, but I was young and foolish and didn’t really know much about life in general.

The group of friends I used to ‘hang’ around with were my closest and meant a lot to me, we did everything together and nothing ever stopped us. We felt invincible and we felt like nobody could ever stop one of us doing anything, but we were just a small fish in a giant ocean. But not in our heads, not until one day one of my friends passed away, he was involved in a horrific accident. An accident that was all over the news, locally and globally. Everywhere we looked somebody was talking about it, we were trapped. But eventually we got out of it and found ‘the light’. Until a fair few months down the line another one of our friends passed away. This time it was due to a medical illness, something he had been fighting for years but never really told anyone. He was truly my closest and dearest – he did a lot for me, and that’s something I shall never ever forget about that boy. So once I had cried, got drunk, made myself angry, pushed myself deeper and suffered alone. I decided to pull myself together accept life has its hurdles and make my way through life as a strong young man. After all I was eighteen at this point and had a lot of money behind me, so I felt unhappy but I knew I was going to get somewhere in life

I got through college, I had a group of friends at college which I had an amazing friendship with. We had a bond. We had something in common regardless of what it was – we had inside jokes and we soon saw each other as close friends. We had known each other for 3 years after all, we knew everything that was going on. They felt like I was the clown of the group, I kept people laughing no matter what, but they knew me. They knew there was something in myself I was missing. But it was never mentioned to me much, until one day. One morning I was working, and for some reason in my head I decided to buy a newspaper. I never did that, I just used to sit scrolling through social media wishing I had everyone else life. But that day I wanted the paper, so I bought one. The front cover was a fatal and horrible car crash, it brought back memories of my past about how we had been there and been through that trauma. So I kept reading as it had intrigued me, I soon started shaking, a tear ran down my face – I felt weak. I was going to be sick. My friend, my closest friend at college was the driver of the car. I had lost another friend.

In the mean time I decided, I have lost too many people from my life I need to find my father. I hired a private detective, and we found him. I went to his front door guns blazing demanding answers. He opened the door and I was silent, I had lost everything in my head. I even prepared a little speech, it was gone. We spoke for a while, and agreed to meet again. After we had met again I was shown pictures of him, and only him. It highlighted he was self centred. He was only worried about himself, not this young man in front of him who was nothing like him. I decided to leave and that was that – never again. I can’t look at that man and say ‘hey thats my Dad’ because he wasn’t. That word meant nothing to me. Not until I grew up a little.

The next few weeks I felt lost, lonely and completely and utterly broken. Everyone around me was aware of my moods and emotions. I was happy for a bit, but then I would be so sad and it would effect everything I did, nobody knew what to say to me. Nobody knew what to do for me and most certainly I did not know either. But sooner or later I got to a point that I was happy, I wanted a different life. I quit my job and started a new one. Something fun, something different and something that would change the way I was. I enjoyed it so much. I had even more friends, not as a replacement to what I had lost but more people around me who wanted to know more about me, who I was. Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was bored of always going out and having fun, I wanted a girlfriend but I knew if I started looking that I would settle for the first thing under my nose. A month or two down the line I met someone. Someone who I was very interested in, someone that I very quickly became attracted to and it felt like she was attracted to me as well. We spoke endlessly for weeks on end, even while she was on holiday I was on the other end of the phone wanting to know more, wanting to see her.

We eventually met up, we watched movies and had a laugh and spoke even more about ourselves. I wanted to see this girl again, we agreed to do it the right way and that we wanted to be with one another more but we wanted it all done right. We eventually spent every minute together, we became official. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Everyone was shocked, I was ‘punching way above my weight’ but that meant nothing to either of us, we felt right. I ended up working for the same company as her, it meant more time with the girl I thought I loved, more time around someone I loved being around. How wrong was I. We had the typical relationship, we argued about small things, never anything big. Always small. But we still made up instantly, no matter how hard it was or how awkward it felt. But, this all meant nothing, what we had worked for, what we put so much effort in suddenly became worthless and meant nothing. It was over. I felt lost, again. It triggered something in my head, I was acting out of line – I was not being me. I did stupid things and said things I would never say. We eventually made up and decided to just be friends, I didn’t want that but I felt like I had too. There was nothing more to do.

One day we were working together, we had a great laugh and I felt in my head that maybe friendship is all we are. Maybe it’s all it is now. So we decided to get lunch, it was her turn to buy. A latte and a panini, just what I wanted. Until my phone rang, I had a text message on my phone that I thought I would never see again. A text message that felt like my whole life was over. It was not about her, it was not about my family but I had just lost one of my childhood best friends, again. I was back to square one. I was shaking, I couldn’t even cry. I had never felt like that, but I decided to just attempt a days work. I was in and out of the office puffing away on cigarettes all day long. On and off the phone. Until enough was enough I had to just go home and be in my comfort zone. After all, I had got myself out of this numerous times before. But this time it was someone I couldn’t lose, someone who I loved, he was the same as me. Funny, daring and did not care what he did.

So acting on them emotions I kept reaching out for her, kept pestering her – I wanted her. No, I needed her. Is what I told myself. It was the run up to Christmas and we argued every single day, without fail. My emotions were running sky high, I couldn’t even look at her without feeling pain, I couldn’t even remember my friend without wanting her to catch me and tell me I will be ok. Eventually christmas was done, my friends dragged me through – I got there. Im not happy, not in the slightest. But I don’t need someone to make me happy, I will find myself again and next time I go through an event like this – I will not let myself get to this level. I am Tom, I am happy, emotional, caring and kind. The same as my mother.