I just read a comment on an Aspie facebook group about family and whether you felt accepted and loved by your family members. That made me think of my own immediate family and instances that have happened between us. Ever since I was young (being the grand-old age of recently turned 34 now) I had never thought of myself as being "different" because I was me and, obviously, hadn't known any other way of being. My parents, on the other hand, knew that I wasn't like other children. They probably had "researched evidence" by watching a "control group" of other children my age and compared their "results" with my "observed behaviour" and reached the conclusion that I was "different". My older brother? He might've been part of the "controll group". But he is part of the family, so he was (most likely) part of this "study" of theirs.
But, over the years, I started to notice things. I was being treated differently to everyone else. Even my own brother. He got more attention than me. When he walked into a room, my parents stopped talking to me and started talking to him. My mom even told me that she wished I was more like him. When she said that, I just sat there and thought "Well why even bother trying to do anything because it will never be good enough." When I asked her she loved him more than me because it seems like she does, she said I must never think that. We eventually started fixing the relationship between us when I invited her into a session with my psychologist because things were heading south.
My dad? Well...I get the feeling he is "replacing" me with someone else. And this is why. A few years ago he put an apple core on a tree outside. I asked him to not do that because I didn't want Zoe to, potentially, eat the seeds because they are poisonous. Anyway, he did this and Zoe got hold of the core one morning. I slipped one the wet grass and hurt myself. I told him what happened and he said "Oh, you probably just sprained your finger. Cricket players do it all the time." I am not a cricket player! The next day he took me to the doctor. My finger was cracked.
Fast forward to two years go. Someone else's daughter wakes up with a sore shoulder that slowly got worse over a few hours. Her mom takes her to the emergency room. Who goes with? My dad. I think he even drove the car there, which was just down the road. I was furious. I asked him what was wrong with her, the next morning. That is how I know it was her shoulder.
I never got an apology for the difference in reaction between my cracked finger and a sore shoulder. He doesn't even remember that it happened to me.
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