A One Parent Child

They say there are two sides to every story but this is from a child’s view, a third side to this story. I have never grown up with any sort of male influence in my life. It’s always been me, my mom, and my little brother. I don’t know who my father is. I have nothing. Not for want of trying, but because no one is willing to listen to the cries of a broken heart. A void sits in my heart and has done for 27 years. I never really thought about having two parents when I was very small but then I listened to the other children in my classes and that’s when it hit me, I only have one parent. The other children would get excited to go on picnics or go to the beach with their mommies and daddies. I got excited if my mother would watch Saturday morning cartoons with my brother and I. I began to ask questions but my mother always shut me down, as a child I should be seen and not heard. When I was just 10 years old my mother admitted that my brother and I do not share a father, making us step brother/sister. Naturally I began telling people that we were not real siblings, to which I was repeatedly told off for. The world was already confusing me. The other children in my classes couldn’t understand why every Father’s Day I drew my mother a card. I didn’t want to be left out of all the fun, doing arts and crafts. As I progressed into high school my interest in my father dwindled as my studies and home life took up all of my time. I began asking questions again at the age of 14. This is when I was assigned a counsel lot in school and diagnosed with reactive depression and social anxiety. By 16 I was diagnosed with chronic depression and severe anxiety. My days were spent in darkness. I was bullied in school due to an undiagnosable skin condition I have on my face. Home life was no picnic either, the neighbors making comments about the amount of chores I was forced to do compared to my little brother. He is only two years younger than me but has always been the golden child, being a boy. Once I turned 16 I decided I wanted information about my father and I knew, by law, I am entitled to know at least his name. However, my mother thought differently and only told me he gave me up before I was born. The rest of my family think that my mom has no idea who my father is, there is also the illusion that my brother's father is also mine. My brother and I had a paternal DNA test done and proved we are not paternally related, only maternally. All I have ever asked is for his name since I was very small. Now, at the age of 27, it is no longer my priority to find him. If he knew how to find me and found me then I would give him that chance.

My brother's father is in contact with him, which naturally I am envious about. It seems that everyone is destined to have two parents except myself.

My depression and anxiety have become worse of the years and at 26 I was officially diagnosed Bi-Polar 1, severe depression, and severe social anxiety. I am pleased to say that I am able to keep a steady job which allows me to work on the border of my comfort zone. However, I am unable to live by myself, I do not have the normal functional skills that a 27 year old should. I try to do something each year that pushes me outside my boundaries. For my 27th birthday I went Poland by myself, for my 28th I have plans to go Norway. But simple tasks like going shopping, meeting/making friends is extremely difficult and I cannot do these things alone.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have answers to who my father is. I don’t know if I will ever be well enough to live on my own as a fully functioning adult. What I do know is that I am trying every day, I am showing myself that no matter how bad my mental health gets I am still living, I am still here.