My father lives with me. I’m 4 months away from turning 34. He showed up at my door in 2000, and said he and my mother had split up, and could he sleep on my couch that night.
He’s mostly never left since, several places, situations and 10 years later. He pretends to be helpless, says he has no where to go. Says no one will hire him, he’s in pain; anything to convince himself (and me) that I should feel sorry for him.
This is the same relationship we have always had. Him the child, me the parent. It’s only been the last year I have begun to realize this, and now I am trying to decide on which day I will say: “you have to leave, for my sanity.”
When he is around, my own life stops. When he is not, I make a life for myself. And I have yet to really understand any of it.