My Reply to the one I have loved the Longest

Hey Mum, why wasn't I tested for autism when I was a kid like Peter was?

My reply...

Dear daughter, child I have loved the longest, so that means the most, right? tee hee

Have you met your bother brother?

Seriously, everyone, I mean everyone thought Peter had problems.

You were the good kid, the quiet one, my sweet girl.

You seemed normal. I mean, as normal as we weirdos can be.

And then there's your father. JFC! Don't get me started on him. Ok, I will.

The picture of ADHD.

The epitome of on-the-charts somewhere. 

On-the-spectrum, perhaps? Definitely?

Natural born addict, certainly.

And now my default "brain damage boy", which I say to his face.

Is this a little piece of your brain?- please read in John Cleese' voice. 

How am I not crazy? Maybe I am. I'm still here, aren't I?

I mean, how crazy is it that I've stuck around??

Peter always reminds me that the reason we say

Everyone is probably on the spectrum is because Who is normal?

What is normal?

But compared to us you are closer to societal norms than we are.

But all of us are in you somewhere. Now aren't you glad you decided not to create a mini me?

I'm not downplaying any concerns you have.

I'm most definitely not dismissing any self reflection. 

Everyone of us needs that.

But compared to this bunch you were wise enough to escape from

You got lucky.

You got out. 

You got free. 

You created a life separate from this house of you-fill-in-the-blanks.

Whatever you are questioning now and exploring 

    whether through online test prompt,

    latest trend or article online, 

    overheard whisper, 

    or a moment of insecurity,

Whatever the reason, pull the thread if you're curious but

Know the cost, actual and otherwise.

Pull the thread and sometimes the sweater unravels.

Pull the thread and waste a good sweater you have created.

Pull the thread and get left putting your father's and brother's sweaters together with crippled hands. 

I know this. I am left with an unfinished sewing pile all around.

Whatever the reason: curiosity, self reflection, outward prompt...

Tug a little and see if that's a road you really think necessary to explore.

But remember that I raised you as an existential atheist.

No gods to blame. No divine plan. No claim of god's will or gods playing chess.

It's all down to you to define yourself and 

find a happy medium that you can live with 

and a safe median to live on, 

amidst the hustle and bustle of life all around you.

We're all a little bit crazy.

We're all a little bit off the charts or on the spectrum

Because we're all not normal- whatever the hell that is.

Are you happy being you, living the inner/outer life that you say defines you?

It's not a job that gives you meaning, unless you choose it to do so.

It's who you are when everything is quiet and your mind is still.

It seems you have found a life and love outside the one you were born into.

It seems you have built your nest and feathered it with reflections of you.

As for the inner monologue that asks Where do I fit in? 

You have only to look around your home and see it is there with Gram kitty and your self expression of things owned.

We should never stop learning and that includes learning about yourself.

If you find that on-the-spectrum somewhere is part of you

then let yourself decide how you identify with it and not how it identifies you.

If you are not normal I hate to break it to you at this late date, 

So fucking what and Who really cares and Aren't we all off kilter?

Besides, it's the current state of affairs in this madhouse country.

JFC, look at the strange and stupid inhabiting the political sphere 

and know you are sane and normal if only by comparison. 

A quick glance reveals what is good and decent in you compared to those fucks.

Seriously, kiddo, we didn't have you tested because you didn't raise any flags that merited it.

You seem ok but, hey, I'm obviously crazy because I'm still here.

But you are not. Your brother is. By choice, by circumstances, because he never wanted to leave, to live life on his own terms, even if only in remission at this point.

He has no goals, no gumption, no get-up-and-go.

He is who he is, part and parcel the same parents you share.

Now that you are amply afraid...

Nature and nurture only get you so far then self responsibility takes over.

Some people never get over blaming their parents. God knows we certainly added to that with the fodder we made. Forgive us, please.

But at some point we all have to take on the mantle of adulthood, take responsibility for our own lives after a point,

which for most comes somewhere in that arena of teen angst with moue, 

first apartment, 

first drunken fuck, 

first job from hell, 

and everyone's favorite:

first life altering and eternal moment of unforgettable embarrassment and shame.

Somewhere in time we choose to live our own lives and we become separate from the brow we sprung forth from. 

At some point we give ourselves permission to Be.

That includes the moments of redefining ourselves. It's a lifelong thing, a nascent self awareness even in the lesser of us.

Slap on a label. Fly a flag. Put a sticker on the bumper.

Talk to a therapist who you may need to pay a king's ransom, for longer than a mortgage term.

Adopt a cat, another one if you must. Nuzzle Gram for me.

Find a good fuck or at least one you don't mind waking up next to for a while, maybe longer.

Express yourself. Enjoy yourself.

Be you. Be.

I love you.

As always it's more than you asked for.

But that brief few years I had you as mine weren't enough to say all I wanted to say or should have said.

I love you, whatever, whoever you are. Here if you need me, but with all this nonsense, consider yourself warned.

Mum

Now go have some hot tea, herbal at this hour. Nag, nag, nag

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Remission and illness, family OCD, ADHD, and autism, and the hoarding issue with another family member are all mentioned in my article on Messiness

My daughter and her baby, Gram, are pictured here as Madonna and Child.