Well the gap between part one and this one has been a big one. Between working and lacking motivation, I've not been blogging so much. Now I don't have work getting in the way, I have more time to blog.
Dad didn't notice the change in me for a good while. There were two reasons for this. One was he only got to see me for 5 or 6 day a month and the other was because when I was visiting him, my problems stayed in Warrington.
When he did start to notice, it was only because he was being fed information by the mother when I started playing up at home, or sciving school. He'd try and talk to me about it, asked why i was doing what I was doing and I told him the truth. I had no idea.
I didn't act up in front of Dad. Partly by fear he would be angry, partly because things seemed to be fine when I was down there. I didn't make the connection. I never thought that moving down there may solve my issues. I'd have been wrong if I did anyway. My problems were something I couldn't even identify, never mind fix.
When I needed something that cost more than I could afford, I'd go to Dad. He never really had a problem with giving me money. Football tickets, rugby tickets, new bikes or anything like that, most of the funding came from Dad. Boxhead was also annoyed because I'd get all of these bits and pieces and he had to make do with using what Dad already had.
Boxhead was a tool of course. He got plenty. What he didn't realise was that Dad was feeding him every day, getting his school supplies. Dad didn't have to worry about that side for me. he gave the mother £60 a month and that was it, she did the rest. Over the years, Dad spent equal amounts on me and my brother, but he spent it on different things for each of us.
Boxhead still had access to the full Sky packages, the latest games consoles and games and could be driven around town. Whereas I had 4 TV channels, the previous generation games console that my Dad passed down to me and either had to walk, bike or get the bus anywhere around Warrington. This meant I grew up always appreciating what I had and not feeling left out because I didn't have something.
All this meant my relationship with Dad was much better. All through our relationship, I always made the effort to talk to Dad, no matter where I was. When I had internet access and he was working somewhere with internet access, we'd talk online, pretty much every day. I downloaded Skype and set up an account, just so I could speak to him whenever I wanted. The brother however, lived a mile away from Dad and only went round when he wanted something.
Later on, he would accuse me of only going to Dad when I wanted something. This was not only false, it was hypocritical. He would go on to admit he was jealous of the relationship I had with Dad, hinting that he should have the better relationship because he wasn't a lazy, jobless failure. Many would have lashed out after that. I laughed. I'd put the effort into my relationship with Dad and with all things in life, if you put the hard work in first, you get the benefits later.
Dad backed me up, no matter what I did. Deep down, I think he knew there was something wrong with me, even if he couldn't fathom what it was. There's still a lot of ignorance when it comes to mental health, so imagine what it was like 15 years ago.
He was probably the only person in my family who didn't label me as a lazy, jobless failure. he knew I had potential. He knew that with the right guidance, I would come good.
The relationship with my Dad was much better when we didn't live together. My problems weren't as big of an issue for him when he couldn't see them. That meant he could put more effort into being my friend, aswell as my father.
We'd play video games, listen to music, play football and just go on random drives together. When we worked together, we'd be a superb team, until my mental health issues flared up again and I'd be in trouble. I worked for Dad twice and the initial 2 or 3 months of each job were superb. We'd take pride in our individual work and our teamwork.
He never stopped believing in me. The only reason the family hadn't turfed me out on the street as a failure was because he wouldn't let them. He'd have plenty of arguments with Amanda about me, because he wouldn't waver with his support for me. They all saw it as financial support and nothing else. Of course it was much more than that. No matter how much I let him down, his support for me never wavered.
This was proven after he got ill. At the first possible opportunity, once Dad couldn't protect me, i was thrown to the wolves. I was half disowned my the majority of them before taking advantage of the opportunity and sacking them all off before they could do the same to me. I only talk to the mother now. I haven't spoken to any member of my biological family apart from her in about 3 years.
I'm certainly in a better place without them
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