Post Revisited, Reedited, Reworded, Reblogged From May 05th 2018
The posts [Autism and Mental Health] l am currently reblogging were in fact written in 2017 in The Tee Shirt Blogger, which was at that time 1 of 3 blogs, including this one and Scrappy’s blog. I decided to amalgamate the three blogs together in April 2018 to make it more efficient and have all my brand eggs in one basket and all written management under one roof. At the time of the transfer of content from the business blog, l made a decision to withdraw the designs from the posts and simply whilst l manually transferred one blog to another, the posts were reblogged, albeit in a different blog from their origination. I decided additionally to reinsert the designs once l started to reblog the posts themselves, which is what l am currently performing.
Since March of this year l have been changing the inner workings of my blog to reflect the direction l wish for the blog to travel, and in the coming months some of those ideas will become more apparent to my readership simply because l am nearing the completion of my first task. My second task is to change the face in certain ways of this blog itself.
The designs were originally part of my business at the time, but are now basically a hobby of mine. They display things which l am passionate about and since the reinsertion of the designs, my hobby has made a few sales, so to those of my readership who have purchased some of the designs – many thanks.
Some of these older posts have been re-edited, reworded and in some cases like the post below, completely re-written, as from the time of writing which for this particular post was September 2017, much has changed.
The Man from Uncle
These days l am now l think a man alone, distanced from my family, as in my genetical family. The unit as dysfunctional as it was as little eight months ago is completely broken. Eight months ago today, my father of eighty years of age died. With his death came not a legacy of goodwill, but of even more hardship from both genetical family and external family. In truth, the greater from the other side to the family as in his, was present before his death, they decided to fly their truer colours in so far as flags of hereditary.
They attacked point blank range with the equivalent to 10″ naval gun discharged at close quarters onto my sister and myself. Supposedly under the guise of caring for their brother and uncle and …… friend.
Prior to his death my family as in my mother and my sister were in many senses of the word estranged from each other, most assuredly my sister and l had nothing to do with each other. My mother and l were closer a few years back, but as much as l love her, in recent months especially l have learned to become very wary to her.
I have never been close to my aunts, uncles or neices and nephews from my father’s side, and due to so called misunderstandings from my sister, her own children have given me a wide berth as well.
A completely dysfunctional family if ever there was one.
What l have learned wholeheartedly since my father’s death is that l trust only two beings on the planet, Suze and Scrappy. They have never betrayed me to the point of absolute destruction and wanton damage. Everyone else, so called family closeness is not a thing present today, yesterday or even as far back into the yesterday’s of my struggling childhood.
Only today, Suze said she wished she and her own family were closer, not just in distance but in emotions too. I answered that sadly the official figures in 2019 for close knit families was as little as 1/10 down in comparison to 2017 when the figures were 4/10 – astonishing and staggering figures l feel. Families are disolving from each other and evolving into complete strangers. Yet she still has a more enriched family structure than l do.
Before my father’s death, he and my mother had been divorced for nearly 30 years, that big figure  would have been this year. If he had lived he could officially state that he had been divorced for the same time period that he was married, but he didn’t.
I have always or is it now with his death ‘had’, a problem with loving my parents? Was l to love them because they were my natural parents or did l love them out of some kind of forced obligation? I still don’t really know the answer to that question and since his death it has become all the more harder to answer. But quite possibly the honest truth is l only marginally loved my father. He was a thorn in my side equally as much as l was a bane to him. Whilst reading his personal effects and l don’t mean his stories although the autobiography and his so called fictionalised autobiography were eye opening enough. But his personal correspondence between my sister and himself l came to realise that that bed of roses was not without a few prickles of its own.
This paid some due to uncovering some of my sisters early lies after his death also. But in these documents l came to understand how he didn’t really like his son that much, but also he didn’t really like not just his children, but most children once they started to become teenagers. Although the relationship/friendship between his daughter and he was many a time alarming, especially financially and then more so as we fast approached 2018, when he came to live in fear of her calling on him.
When he was alive, l tried very hard despite our differences to be a dutiful son, however the old man made it many a time very hard to maintain the upkeep of this relationship, and many a time due to his own making, our friendship faltered. But l did communicate with my father in the bare minimum once a week irrespective, whilst my sister many a time only rang him up for money to which shamefully he always consented.
I communicated with my mother once a week every week for years, then after my father’s death suddenly she chose to not cause stress to herself and l wasn’t allowed to ring her direct anymore, l was only to await calls from her? I was still to celebrate the various things, Christmas, Mother’s day, Easter and her Birthday next month. She has been in hospital a couple of times, but still whilst she dishes out commands of who to ring, she still prefers me to not call direct.
Visits to my parents were rare and not just because of the distance apart. 100 miles would be nothing to a close family, but 100 miles is not far enough apart with dysfunctional families. So l would see them both infrequently, and unlike my sister placed very few demands upon either of them.
As to my sister, and very recent events, l have now firmly come to the conclusion that my sister and l WILL NEVER have a relationship as brother and sister or friendly siblings. It is not something she wants and if l considered her hostility before my father’s death, l have been proven terribly wrong. That scathingness of hers was nothing in comparison to recent times. If l ever held the distant thought that my sister and l could be friends, which l was led to believe after my father’s death. Jenny in no shortage of four lettered words has put my mind right.
All she has done is cement to my mind the understanding that friendly honest people are absolute muppets who come last over those who stomp on people for a living, and that Karma looks pretty as a word and supposed meaning, but means very little.
I am not an active anything in the true family sense of the word, l don’t know how to be if honest. I mean how are you supposed to be? I tried to be a good brother, but have failed at that as my Sister doesn’t wish to know me and it is and was both her and my father who plotted that heap of shit between them.
I tried to be as good a son as l could, but that hasn’t worked either for whatever reason, l even tried to be a good uncle to my sister’s kids who having been led down the garden path about my poor quality mental health, want nothing to do with me either.
Some say it is common sense on how to be a Brother and again l question that. How is it ‘common sense’ to be a Brother? I know sets of Brothers and Sisters – some are best buddies, but many are not. As they say you can pick your friends, but sadly you cannot pick your family and l think this is very true. If l had a choice l would have picked a different Father and yet, how stupid is that as a statement – if l had the opportunity of picking another Father, l would not exist!
I am an uncle to a niece and nephew that l have not met since they were not far out of nappies, and have no hands on experience of that role. How am l supposed to be to these people who are now in their twenties? Perhaps l am just to be known as ‘The Man from Uncle’ or indeed the ‘Uncle Rory who has Asperger’s’ ‘or the Uncle Wacky Dude who was ostracised by his family. Every family has its fair share of quirks and oddball characters!
Suzanne on the other hand is the complete opposite of me, she adores her family, is a Mother to two and a Grandmother to five, not forgetting being an Aunt to two more. Family is very important to her, whereas l tend to see family as a hindrance. My immediate family comprises of Suzanne and our dog, Scrappy, that is my family.
She has photographs of her family, of her parents [now deceased], of her Grandchildren, whilst l have nothing. The very few l do have are not visible for all to see, they are in a closed box somewhere, and l am none too sure where. I don’t have any images of my family on the walls or available for view in albums. Truth be known, even when l take photographs l cannot stand to have people in them for l believe they can ruin a shot. But as l always say given the chance l would rather communicate with computer humans than proper humans any day of the given week.
I am not sure if this dysfunctional family issue of indifference stems from Asperger’s or stems directly from an undiagnosed Aspergian Father and growing up in an awkward household. When l was younger l used to tell my Mother that l loved her – everyday – my Father scolded me for this, saying it was unnatural. So l stopped telling my Mother, because l was more fearful of upsetting the applecart with my at times unemotional Father. Furthermore, lessons had been learned the hard and brutal way that it was unwise to go against his wishes.
I clearly recall the difficulty that my own Father had of expressing emotions towards his family, and whilst l detest passing the label on, l can only but imagine that as l had no comparisons to pull from myself have acquired this behaviour directly from him.
By all accounts from the little l do know about my sister, she is quite possibly somewhere on the spectrum, her son definitely is. But equally she did not visit my parents that much either, and if she did, it was usually my Father for money.
I think the problems for my dysfunctional family began many years ago when we all lived at home and grew up in that time window together. In simple terms, my parents were not right for each other but stayed together for varying reasons up until the point they could no longer bear the pain of each other’s’ company! My Mother only stayed on for the sake of the children, and my Father – well who knows, but eventually he left. Albeit, l had myself left home long before he or my sister did.
I think my Father did love my Mother, but quite simply struggled to understand the requirements of his role for the family, and in the end it basically started to wear him down, and so he drifted into other more ‘greener and understanding pastures’ to his behaviours, desires and needs!
When younger, my father had the most violent of tempers and this stayed with him almost to the end of days within his marriage as both my mother and l can testify to. I grew up absolutely terrified of the man, till l was in my forties where upon l confronted him and told him exactly what l thought of him when we were all a ‘family’. I think that was the day when the ‘hero’ concept he thought l had of him was shattered.
My mother did love my father, although you would never catch her saying those words today, they are simply alien to her. Despite his death and so called releasing her from their past together she still hates him and still the bitterness lives on in her and at every opportunity she can she reels off venom against him. She was scarred mentally and emotionally by this man and his relationship to her and his family that it completely changed her outlook on life.
With the home environment no different to an open conflictive war zone it is hardly surprising that as a family we struggled to function, just to survive the daily bombing run was enough! However, l don’t know why l am surprised as to why l am not family orientated? What comparisons and beauticious learning curves did l receive whilst at home? My Mother did her best to ensure we were loved as children and she did not fail on that level. But at times it did feel like a one parent family only with a Father only pitching in 1] when he was home or 2] when he felt like it.
Many years on, my own Ex-Wife would throw accusations at me for my quirky behaviour, slamming me with the same arguments l remember my Mother hurling at my Father. ..That l was about as family orientated as a wet dead fish.
The time for my family and l to mend the rend has passed, we each have now almost gone our own ways and l am fine with that. It was quite liberating when l decided literally only yesterday to not have anything to do with my sister any more. Now apart from Suzanne and Scrappy whilst we still have her in our lives, this is the only family l need. But more importantly l am going to be me, and if no one else likes, well quite frankly l don’t give a damn!
So, how about you – 100% family orientated or 100% rivalry and or disinterest?