I described my search for a new therapist in an earlier blog posting. I didn't talk about why I had gone back into therapy, because it would have probably hurt my biological father's feelings. However, Stephen died three weeks ago. It was not a surprise; he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease, or ALS, about three and a half years ago. I got to spend a lot of time with him in the last year, so while his passing is sad, I was able to achieve some measure of closure. But not complete closure, apparently.

First I need to clarify something. When I refer to Stephen as my "biological" father, I'm sure you're assuming I'm adopted. I am, but the actual adoption didn't take place until a few years ago (my stepfather, Larry, adopted my sister and I in an adult adoption a few years ago). Stephen and my mom got divorced when I was about two years old and my sister was about two weeks old. Two years later, my mom married Larry, who became my stepfather.

Growing up, I never thought that losing Stephen affected me. My stepfather was a wonderful father, so I never felt that anything was lacking. However, I was kidding myself in thinking that the dysfunctional nature of my relationship with Stephen had no impact on me. Among other things, in an unconscious attempt to fix the relationship, for years I had been dating men who were twice my age. My first year of therapy was focused primarily on identifying how I really felt about his lack of involvement in my childhood.

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