At only a couple of months old my prospects in life looked bleak, I was the youngest member of a family unit that should never have been allowed to happen. I lived in a rundown area new the docks in a welsh town that had barely survived the recessions of the seventies and with the death of coal mining and shipping the future was far from bright. The council house I lived in briefly for the first months of my life was just like all the others that surrounded it marked different by perhaps my only memory of it in so much as it had a brightly painted red door I have no recollection of the interior but given the time period and the location I can be fairly certain it would have involved woodchip wallpaper and an avocado coloured bath, not that I think anyone from Pembroke Dock had ever seen an avocado in the seventies. As I mentioned I was at this point in my life only months old, and therefore I was far too young to realise why my sister would place me in a little room on my own, she did this for my own safety, and I was well into my adult years before I realised that the little room as dark on account of it being the cupboard under the sink. To someone on the outside it might appear that my sister’s actions in keeping me out of harm’s way were if anything a little misguided but at the tender age of five she knew perfectly well that the safest place for any of us was anywhere in the house where there was no alcohol to be found and she and my brother who at the time was only three years old himself, had outgrown the hiding place they had found for me and as seeing as they were the eldest had not had the benefit of an experienced sibling to have found it before hand.
I was, as the ingenious twist on the well known game of hide and seek would suggest born to a alcoholic man with fairly violent tendencies, my mother, not a bad person, but unable to cope with her lot in life did the bravest thing I can imagine from another human being and gave me up for adoption before I followed my older brother and sister down the dark road of abuse and fear that they would endure for many years to come, and because of one very courageous decision made before I was even three months old I became one of life’s luck ones. I found a family who loved me, not through obligation but through choice, I found a new home with laughter and siblings and I prospered, I became a confident person indebted to others for my good fortune with a real understanding of the importance of family.
This small and brief description of my start in life brings me full circle to my present situation, I want to be the best father I possibly can to my two children and yet I find myself uncertain that I want to remain with my Wife, how can I be the best father I can if I decide to leave. Do I want to make a decision today that could have such dramatic consequences in decade to come? Am I even capable of making a choice like that? I know I have always insisted that I love my wife and would ride out this period after her affair no matter what but recently I have started to feel that maybe, just maybe, I want more than a life full of simple acceptance, more than only existence, and then maybe I’m just not on top form and will change the way I feel given more time. I have from the very first post stood by my decision to stay put and make the best out of our marriage but I am beginning to doubt my earlier conviction, I do still love my wife but contrary to popular belief love is not all you need.