extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
“What Did I Do Wrong?” - A Book That Breaks the Traumatic Cycle of Communication Misunderstandings Between Autistic and Neurotypical People
As a late-diagnosed autistic/ADHD (AuDHD) person who grew up in the ‘80s and ‘90s, I must have asked, “What did I do wrong?” or some variation thereof at least a thousand times.
By The Articulate Autistic3 years ago in Families
Dearest Mother,.... Content Warning.
Dearest Mother, I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that you want me and I want you... the truth is that I needed you yes but I do not want you. There was a time, yes there was a time where I both wanted and needed you but then I grew. I grew to learn that I could love myself and I learned that without you. Let's be honest shall we? For once, can you give me this one small token? You never wanted me. Not really. You gave me life and for that, I am grateful. It's been a wild ride but one I'm glad I was given the opportunity to have but I was the bastard child. I am the bastard child; conceived in the dark of night when you should've been in your bedroom sleeping like a good teenage girl but you weren't and that I've always felt was my fault. I'm not sure how but I wasn't meant to be conceived by you at just 15 years of age and born when you had just turned 16 a few short months ago. I stole your childhood. I'm told when I was a baby/toddler we were besties but I think you had hopes that I could be your mini me. When my father and you divorced when I was just 3, you started to realize I was more like my daddy. I favored him in looks too with my brown hair and brown eyes versus your blond hair and hazel eyes that was nothing like you. In school, I struggled and couldn't make the straight A's you had made in school. I made B's, C's and an occasional A. You had me stay up until midnight some nights because you said I was staying up until I got it right. I'm sorry I was not good enough and didn't understand. Finally, when I was 11 you and my step father had my little sister Mikayla and I thought maybe the pressure would be off me and I wouldn't have to be so perfect. You'd be busy with her. I was wrong. I just got another job added to my list; I then had to be the perfect older sister/substitute mother. I changed diapers, fed her bottles, bathed her every night, I knew she had acid reflux and could projectile vomit across a room if not burped properly or given the bottle properly and sometimes even still, I dressed her and as she grew I fed her supper and played with her. You had headaches/migraines quite frequently so often times I'd get home from school and immediately be handed Mikayla so you could go lay down. If I had homework I had to try to do that while watching my little sister. I loved her so much but I did resent her. How could I not? She could do no wrong in your eyes and I...I could do nothing but wrong. When I was 13 you and my step father became pregnant again and Adeline was born. I now was responsible for two beautiful little girls. Adeline had such beautiful bouncy blond curls and she loved to laugh all the time and Mikayla had to be entertained all the time and loved to be into everything. They were a mess and they were my babies but they don't remember those years now. It's sad really. They were your showcase children and still are even all these years later. Do you know that if I run into people that know you and they find out your my mother some do not even know I am your child? They know of Mikayla and Adeline but they know nothing of me. Your dark haired cast away daughter...can you tell me why that is? No, probably not. Honesty about these things has never been your strong suit. Instead, you like to deny and hide and cover things up. It seems your version of things always differs from mine too. Why is that mother? Do you know how many years I spent crying my eyes out because I tried to please you and somehow fell short? I used to clean the house every Thursday when I was teenager because that was part of my chores and I had to clean everything from top to bottom-bathrooms, dusting, sweeping, mopping, dishes and vacuuming. Every Thursday you'd come home and you'd take your finger as you swiped it across the bookcase or the entertainment center and you'd look at your finger and say, "Not good enough. I still see dust." You'd look at the floors and the toilet and ask me things like how on earth did I think that was clean? Was I dumb? We fought constantly and it seemed more than just your average teenage daughter and mother fights or for that matter daughter/mother fights. I remember that if I knew you were angry before we got in a car that I would sit behind you as far away as I could because if we got into an argument and I said something you didn't like you would just start slapping and you didn't care what you hit. You would hit my arms, legs, sides, face...it didn't matter to you. I remember one time we were arguing and you grabbed my arm and shoved me into my closet. I thought to myself, " I wonder if that will leave a bruise? I could call DCS"... but I was scared to be separated from my little sisters. Then there was the one time that I got up the guts to say to you what I was actually feeling. We were arguing in the kitchen each facing the other in the doorway as I was headed to my room and I screamed at you those words I'd been harboring deep, deep in my heart, "I HATE YOU!" I then felt a sharp slap across my face as you screamed "Go to your room and don't you DARE EVER tell me that again!" It felt so good to get it out though that the pain from that slap was almost worth it. At least now you knew the truth. I spent so many days and nights hugging my Bible and my baby blanket crying my eyes out wishing I were dead. Wishing you had went through with that abortion all those years ago...Did you know that when I was 12 or 13 (I can't remember the exact age) I tried to kill myself? I was doing the dishes and no one else was home for once. There was a butcher knife that called my name, I looked into it's reflection so inviting that it beckoned to me. I picked it up, put it to wrist, thought "If I could just hit the main vein then I could just bleed out and I'll be dead before they get back then all this pain will be over." I pressed down but couldn't bring myself to actually press hard enough to draw blood, I was too scared. Too scared to live and too scared to die. I was cursed I felt. I told no one until I met and fell in love with Jay shortly after that. Over the years, you showed where your priorities lied. The only time you wanted to be my mother or my children's grandmother was and is when it makes you look good. When you can put it on social media or take credit for being there for us in our time of crisis or need. It is for nothing but your gain. Other people in my life have had to step in where your place should've been to step up for you and then as if you have the gall to do so you get mad at those people such as grandma for simply stepping up for me and being reliable when you were not. I can't tell you how many times that woman and my daddy have heard me cry out why? Why am I not good enough for you? Don't answer that because I no longer care. I started therapy in 2020 all due to two separate incidents that had to do with you and my sisters. You turned them against me too. They never had time for me after I moved out and soon they were just your mini me's which was what you had wanted all along but couldn't get out of me. In 2020, at Mikayla's wedding I was conveniently left out of virtually everything. Adeline was asked to be a bridesmaid, the maid of honor in fact and despite the fact that there were I believe 7 bridesmaids I wasn't asked to be one or to have any part in the wedding party. Aliza, my little girl, was asked to be the flower girl but it was quite frowned on that she's quite shy and we didn't know if she would make it down the aisle. In the end, she did but started to cry because she saw grandma and you crying and she didn't understand why. There was no mention of me or pictures hardly anywhere even though there were plenty of Adeline and Mikayla. We didn't even have a clear place to sit, eventually placed sort of off to the side in a bit of a corner. There was a slideshow that did me in at the end. It showed numerous family pictures of Mikayla growing up with Adeline and you and my step dad and various family members. Guess who had 3 pictures total in the whole slideshow? Yeah...I counted. I ran to the bathroom in tears. I felt like a 3rd wheel the whole wedding. Some of Mikayla's friends ratted me out to you that I had ran to the bathroom crying because even though you were just a table or two over you didn't notice. I lied and said I was crying because I was so happy for Mikayla. I didn't want to make it about me and also I knew you wouldn't understand. Also, you asked grandma to ask me about it days later. That's another thing you do that I can't stand. You never come to me! Your daughter! You essentially tell grandma to get her "daughter" under control or find out what's wrong with me now. I know you'll say that I don't come to you either and that's because I used to but after I realized how little you care I gave up on that. I chose to stay silent. Also, after my step dad had a stroke you refused to let me step up and help you. It was you, Mikayla and Adeline going through this hardship. I was looked over, tossed aside. I tried to be there for you all even dad and it was as if I was not welcome. I tried to show my love and help make decisions and I felt like everything I said was just blocked out. No, you abandoned me a long time ago mother and the only thing I can figure I've really done is be born. Am I angry? Yes, I am. Do you know the countless times I've questioned who could love someone like me who is clearly so unlovable because her own mother doesn't love her? Tell me I'm wrong...I dare you. I will say this though I've come to be less angry than I was in the past. I'm mostly numb now and indifferent. I've come to realize that it's not my responsibility to win your love so speak. It is only my responsibility to love me and I choose to love me because for some reason God loves me and He loved me enough to allow me to be born and live here on this blessed Earth. And today, mother, that's enough for me and if you were to get sick or need me I'd be there. However, I'm not going to allow you to tear me down anymore. Those actions you used to do and still do sometimes I refuse to allow to have control over me. Those words of yours I used to hear in my head every day I hear less and less now as I've replaced them with nice things I tell myself instead. I climbed out on my own see, I did that. You gave birth to a princess of God mother.
By Lindsey Altom3 years ago in Families
Whispers of reconciliation
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park, Lessie and Karthik found themselves on opposite ends of a weathered wooden bench. It had been six months since they had separated, and this was their first meeting since then. The air between them was heavy with unsaid words, regrets, and lingering emotions. They sat in silence, not daring to break it, as if their words were shackled by the weight of their history.
By Karthik Editor3 years ago in Families
Nourished
Title: The Heartfelt Feast: Celebrating the Profound Impact of Simple Acts of Kindness Through Food 🍴 In a world that often seems consumed by haste and self-interest, the essence of humanity lies in the simple, sincere acts of kindness we extend to one another. These acts, often unassuming and gentle, have the potential to create ripples of positive change. One of the most beautiful and universally cherished ways to express kindness is through food. Food is not merely sustenance; it's a conduit for emotional and spiritual nourishment, embodying the essence of care and compassion. In this narrative, we embark on a heartwarming journey to celebrate the profound impact of seemingly simple acts of kindness through the joy of sharing food.
By Tanveer Ahmad 3 years ago in Families
OUTSIDE IS GETTING COLD BUT IF YOUR LIKE ME YOU STILL WANNA WORKOUT SO TRY THIS CONVIENT AND EFFECTIVE WAY
Sperax Walking Pad,Under Desk Treadmill,Treadmills for Home,320 Lb Capacity In a world where our daily lives often revolve around desks and screens, finding ways to stay active and maintain a healthy lifestyle has become more crucial than ever. The Sperax Walking Pad, an innovative under desk treadmill designed for home use, offers a transformative solution to this modern-day challenge. With a remarkable 320 lb weight capacity, this compact and foldable treadmill is redefining the way we think about fitness and productivity.
By Yahweh Son3 years ago in Families
Emotional Health and Well-being of an ageing parent.
Ageing can indeed be a remarkable chapter of self-reflection, personal growth, and emotional well-being for elderly individuals. As the years accumulate, the perspective on life often shifts, allowing seniors to find contentment and fulfilment in their later years in ways they might not have anticipated.
By Chuks Isiani3 years ago in Families
The Unseen Light
In the midst of a bustling urban center, where aspirations collided with harsh realities, resided a young girl by the name of Maya. Despite the myriad of challenges that enveloped her existence, Maya exuded an unwavering aura of optimism, her indomitable spirit and infectious smile serving as a guiding light. She firmly believed that within the depths of every individual's being, regardless of the burdens they carried, lay an untapped brilliance yearning to radiate.
By Md. Rezowanul Islam3 years ago in Families
The Gift of the Snowflake
In the heart of a picturesque town nestled between snow-capped mountains, there was a little girl named Emily who believed in the magic of Christmas more than anyone else. Her eyes would light up at the sight of the first snowflake, and she would spend hours by her window, watching the delicate crystals twirl down from the sky, each one carrying a whispered promise of enchantment. This year, however, was different. The town, usually abuzz with festive cheer, was shrouded in a somber atmosphere. Families faced hardships, and the spirit of Christmas seemed elusive. Emily, determined to bring back the magic, embarked on a mission – a mission to find the most beautiful snowflake in the world. She believed that this special snowflake held the power to grant a wish, a wish that could bring joy and hope to her town once more. One chilly evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Emily set out on her quest. Bundled up in her warmest coat, with her trusty dog, Jasper, by her side, she ventured into the enchanted forest that bordered the town. Guided by the soft glow of the moon and the twinkling stars above, they embarked on a journey filled with wonder and anticipation. Through the whispering pines and under the arching branches of ancient oaks, they ventured deeper into the forest. With each step, the air grew colder, and the world around them seemed to hush, as if holding its breath in anticipation of their quest. Emily's eyes sparkled with determination; she knew that the snowflake she sought was waiting somewhere in the heart of the forest. After what felt like an eternity, Emily and Jasper stumbled upon a clearing bathed in ethereal moonlight. At the center of the clearing stood a magnificent tree, its branches adorned with glistening icicles. And there, hovering in the frosty air, was the most extraordinary snowflake Emily had ever seen. As Emily reached out to touch it, the snowflake began to shimmer, casting a soft, iridescent light that painted the entire clearing in a kaleidoscope of colors. A gentle voice, like the rustle of leaves in the wind, echoed around them. It was the Snowflake Spirit, the guardian of all the snowflakes in the world. "Brave child," the Snowflake Spirit spoke, "you have ventured far to find me. What wish do you carry in your heart, one pure enough to be granted by the magic of the snowflakes?" With unwavering sincerity, Emily shared her wish – a wish for her town to be filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of togetherness once more. The Snowflake Spirit nodded, acknowledging the purity of her heart, and granted her wish with a sprinkle of snowflake dust. With the magic of the snowflake in her heart, Emily returned to town, her steps light and her spirit aglow with newfound hope. She shared her encounter with the townsfolk, and the story of the enchanted snowflake quickly spread, rekindling the town's belief in the magic of Christmas. Word of Emily's wish reached the hearts of everyone in the town. Families, friends, and neighbors came together, inspired by her selfless act. They decorated the town with lights that twinkled like stars and prepared a grand feast with the most delectable treats. Carolers sang melodies that warmed the coldest of nights, and laughter filled the air, echoing through the streets. The night before Christmas Eve, the town gathered for the Snowflake Festival, a celebration that had never been so vibrant before. The town square was transformed into a winter wonderland, with snowflakes adorning every corner. A grand stage was set, and musicians, artists, and performers from the town showcased their talents, filling the air with the melodies of joy. In the midst of the festivities, Emily stood on the stage, her eyes sparkling like the stars above. She shared her story with the town, reminding them of the magic that resided within each snowflake and the power of a wish made from the heart. Her words resonated with everyone, weaving a tapestry of unity and love that enveloped the town like a warm, comforting embrace. On Christmas morning, the town woke up to a sight that took their breath away. Overnight, the entire town had been transformed into a scene from a winter fairy tale. Houses were adorned with twinkling lights, and the streets were lined with snowmen wearing festive hats. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked cookies, and the sound of laughter echoed through the town. But the most miraculous sight of all was the town hall, where a massive snowflake-shaped structure had appeared overnight. Inside, it was filled with gifts, not just for the children, but for everyone in the town – warm blankets, delicious food, and handwritten notes of kindness and hope. As the townsfolk exchanged hugs and smiles, they knew that the magic of Christmas wasn't just about the gifts under the tree but the love and compassion shared between neighbors and friends. Emily, standing amidst the crowd, felt her heart swell with happiness. The town, once shrouded in sadness, had been reborn, and it was all because of the pure wish she had made upon a snowflake. And so, in the heartwarming glow of Christmas morning, the town of snow and stars celebrated not just the magic of the season, but the miracle of togetherness, proving that the most extraordinary gifts were the ones that came from the heart, and the most magical moments were the ones shared with the ones we love.
By Tengis Badmaarag3 years ago in Families
Twin suicide attacks underline the depth of Pakistan’s crisis
The horrifying scenes witnessed on Friday in Pakistan have unfortunately become all too common. This time, a twin attack occurred, targeting a procession commemorating the birthday of the prophet Muhammad and a police station. The suicide bombings resulted in the tragic loss of nearly 60 lives and left hundreds injured.
By ABDUL RASHID 3 years ago in Families
The Top 10 Misconceptions About Romance
We all have our own definitions of romance, whether you've been together for 25 years or are just getting started. Every flourishing and passionate relationship must include romance. Relationships typically begin with romance, but life often gets in the way of how much romance we experience. I've outlined what I think are the top 10 romantic misconceptions in the list below:
By Keerthana M3 years ago in Families
Fragments of Perception
In a room filled with the hushed tranquillity of soft, dim lighting, there resided a man named John. His life was an intricate tapestry woven with the threads of schizophrenia, a condition that painted his existence in hues of surrealism and uncertainty. Picture a mind where the boundaries between reality and imagination are as delicate as a spider's silk, easily blurred and intertwined.
By Bianca Lane3 years ago in Families
