Hi all. This may well be the wrong space to be posting, but I'll explain whom I am and perhaps you'll guide me elsewhere.
I'm a dad of three girls, 28, 26 and 19. I love them all.
Their mum is a friend that I met when she was 18 and I was 21. I only had the guts to ask her out because another friend told me that she really liked me, but we enjoyed each other's (asexual) company and we still travelled to see each other when I moved a hundred miles away.
Both of us being conformists, one day (seven years into the relationship) she said "I guess we should get married" so I said yes. We bought a ring each from the Ratners nearby (on her credit card) and told the families.
Yes, I know - you can probably see it coming.
I was thrilled to bits to marry her in her parish church. All the usual beautiful things were beautiful, and after my faltering speech we left on the train (neither of us could drive) for our honeymoon.
Sex was a non-starter. We are both Christian and had never slept with anyone before our marriage. I was as gentle as I knew how to be, but still she was retching and had to run to the bathroom at the thought of making love.
So many years later she has never wanted or instigated sex, but some sort of cooperation, and at least her physical pleasure, has given us the three girls that I talked about.
When we were newly married I was thrilled. Delighted to know that she wanted to spend her life with me, and be someone that I could love and care for. When we were first home from the honeymoon I remember my delight walking out to the shops with a ring on my finger, thinking "I know something you don't know!" when I talked to all the usual people. I was in heaven.
But she wasn't, and while I can imagine all sorts of reasons why, she still won't explain. I can imagine that she is Lesbian, or there may be something dark in her childhood, but anything is guesswork.
She was deeply unhappy being married to me. I did the flowers and kisses and tried to talk about how much she meant to me, but talking about things isn't her way. Some of the problem seemed to be her independence, so while I paid the mortgage and the bills, she found herself her own job and income nearby.
So with no way in, and no way out, I drank.
I had always been pretty good at it, because my father taught me well, but I had never relied on it to fix things before. And, of course, the more I "fixed things" the worse my behaviour became, until I came home only to sleep and go back to work again in the morning.
I had always tried to hug my family and say hello when I came home from work, but my wife had always found it awkward. Now there was a real reason, and I knew I was unacceptable.
The descent from there is classic and inevitable.
Since then I have been diagnosed with heightened anxiety, and have managed to stop drinking only by leading the simplest of lives, taking drugs, and staying out of work.
Obviously there is much more to this tale, but what is my question?
There are many. But the first ones are
- Have I asked for help in the right place, and from the right people?
- Does anyone have any advice to help me father my children?
Thank you for reading.