I was about 11 or 12 when my parents divorced. All I knew was that my dad had just disappeared … essentially abandoned me and that really hit hard.

I remember being extremely distressed and just crying for days on end. I was extremely confused. I didn’t understand what was going on at all.

I look at childhood photos of me and my dad and I don’t really have any memory of it. But I appear to be happy. And my dad seems to be happy. Then suddenly everything came crashing down. I often ask myself — was that smile concealing something back then?

When he left my mother, he rented a house down the road to be close to us. I was so confused and devastated by him leaving that I didn’t want to see him at all, let alone know that he was close by. I was already struggling at school, attempting to fit in, so when he left, I felt like there was even less of a support network at home.

My parents never seemed to get along and it was a harsh childhood with memories of a lot of shouting, but at least he was there. I think that it was one of the triggers for me to develop early-onset childhood depression, which has now developed into full-blown bipolar disorder.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t diagnosed until a few years ago, so I never had the chance to tackle it for what it was.

I’d been taken to see psychologists, and there were many attempts at reconciliation with my father, but I had retreated into myself and away from everything else.

I’m doing better now, but it’s still not the easiest existence.

When you’re struggling with the rollercoaster that is bipolar disorder, social anxiety often comes along for the ride.

I’ve had trouble picking up the phone to close friends, let alone for a man I’d actively avoided for several years. I struggled to interact with him in person, so all I was left with was phone interaction. I would dread them.

Often, I try and avoid high-pressure social situations, and for me, this was as hard as it gets. I felt guilty, but I was trying to protect myself from having to deal with these intense feelings.

I moved out of the family home last year, and so I’d have to finally step out on my own, which was a great experience. But I realised that I’d have little immediate support in Perth. I had, and still have, my partner, who is an amazing woman, but that’s a different type of support.

I yearned to be able to talk with my father, to be able to discuss my life with him, where I was, where I am, and where I wanted to go. I also knew that he was struggling, so I wanted to reach out and let him know that I was ready to connect, or at least try and mend whatever connection was there. I hadn’t hugged him, or talked to him properly essentially ever, let alone look him in the eye.

I’d heard about a program Look Me In The Eye and thought it might be a last-ditch chance to connect. I was becoming independent and if we couldn’t connect, I thought I may have to simply leave him by the wayside and move on completely. I couldn’t afford to have the baggage, as brutal as that may sound.

I applied for the program without his knowledge, thinking that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it, but was surprised when the team told me that he was willing to come on board. I chatted intensely with the producers and psychologist and came to realise some things about myself and my relationship with my dad that I don’t think I ever would have if I hadn’t reached out to the program.

When I got the chance to lock eyes with him, I was terrified. I didn’t know what I would see.

Would I cry … do I want to cry? I instantly broke down. All the hurt flowing in at once, but once I regained eye contact, everything washed away and I was able to see the man before me. It was the most human I’d ever seen him. I saw myself 30 years from now.

I knew he was sorry and I knew he wanted to talk. He wanted to be a part of my life. He was struggling, like me, two men fighting a mental health battle, and unable to talk about it with anyone. I had built a support network, but I felt like he only had me.

We connected in the most basic human way possible for the first time in a long time. He explained himself to me. I explained myself to him. And it all began to make sense.

We finally have a structure to build a relationship on. It’s going to be a lot of work and I’ve got to work on myself to make sure I can be there for him — even in the smallest way. Having the chance to look him in the eye and confront him — and confront myself — is an opportunity I’ll never regret.

Daley King and his father Stephen will appear on Look Me In The Eye, which airs Wednesdays at 8.30pm on SBS.