My fantasy family story

[October]

I really did not start seeing how dysfunctional my family situation was until I became a parent myself.  

Yes!   This is the experience I had.  My children are showing me the way I ought to have been parented.  I now have a chance to correct my childhood by making theirs what it should be.

Absolutely right.  Amen to both.  In protecting our children, we find our own healing.

[Plucky as guest]

there were years when I do seem to have believed everything, and thought that the above description fitted my reality, but when in spite of that belief I was not happy, the only answer was to blame myself for that. I would like to know what others think of this.

Maybe you weren't the only one blaming you.  In many families there is a scapegoat who is said to be the problem person, where all the problems are focused and blamed.  Were you that person?  That might account for your path being different from that of your siblings.
In my family it wasn't me, but I tread that mill to avoid becoming the one!
Or are you saying that you blamed yourself for not having the proper emotions, given that the situation was *so* ideal?

A somehow logged off
Plucky

[October]

In many families there is a scapegoat who is said to be the problem person, where all the problems are focused and blamed.  Were you that person?  

I think this is more true of my older brother.  He was always expected to be far older and more responsible than he could ever cope with.  

Same for his oldest boy.  Only a child, but blamed like an adult for his parents' anger and unhappiness.

I was mostly invisible, but at one point I was given the accolade of 'bad influence' over my younger brother.    This was because when he was considering taking a year out before University, I listened to him and respected his opinions, and gave him some suggestions of where to go for further information.  

In the end he decided not to do it, on his own.  When my parents (and older brother) found out they were furious that he did not consult them and let them make the decision, and they were also furious that I did not tell them his personal business.  My dad did not  and would not understand the difference between taking a year out and dropping out.  

I used to give my younger brother pocket money out of my student grant, because my parents did not believe in pocket money, and I did not believe in teenagers with no money whatever of their own.  I used to be there for him, more than ever our mum and dad were.  I knew when he was being bullied at school, and tried to help him sort it out.  I took him to the barber when my mum didn't give a damn about his hair being too long. I told him about Santa when he got too old (11) not to know any more, and risked real humiliation at school.  (I got into trouble for that too; they wanted him to stay a baby forever.)    

If this is being a 'bad influence' I am not sure what language is left for a sister who actually leads her brother astray, such as into drugs or smoking or whatever.  

[Bliz]

SOrry, I am just catching up with this thread.  October, I loved the reference to Cssandra.  I will have to look that up.  It so seemed like my early adult years and even now.

I think the difficulty of the fantasy for me is sometimes it was the fantasy or at least appeared that way to the outside world. Naturally I doubted my own feelings and voice.  The latest journey has helped so much getting me centered and regaining my voice.  Sometimes I even see subtle changes in the family.

[Anonymous]

The problem for me is that my family are all dead (or seem so because there is no contact) and so I have to form the fantasy from memories that seem far away and even unreal sometimes.

I do remember something that was a clue as to how one person from the outside world saw our family, which happened one time.

I was trimming the hedge that ran along the front and side of my parents home (which was a corner house and I was on the outside of the hedge, on the side walk, near the back of the property) and suddenly a boy about my age (maybe 12?? 13??) flew threw the hedge (so he must have run across the lawn, cutting the corner, rather than walking around the outside of the hedge on the sidewalk).  He startled me, as he landed about 4 feet away from me.  

I had put the hedge trimmer down, had raked the trimmings, put the rake down and was about to start loading the trimmings into a basket, that was sitting on the lawn, so I supposed, he didn't notice and just thought I was walking along the side walk toward him, when he said:

"You should see the crazy people who live in that house!!"

Me:  "Really?  What do you mean?"
Boy:  "Oh.....they're all batty.  Especially the father!  He's a real cook!!"
Me:  "Is that so?  How do you know that?"
Boy:  "Oh..... I see him all the time and he's really a looney.  His garage is full of rocks, you know, and he tries to get people to look at them, so he can talk and talk.  And he drives a beat up old car and drinks whiskey, from a flask.  Yells and swears a lot!!  And the son.....you should see him!  He's a nutty as a fruit cake!"
Me:  "Oh.....tell me more?"
Boy:  "Well.......he's in his 20's and he rides and old bike and smokes a pipe and wears weird hats, has a gotee and brings his getto blaster with him, playing blues and jazz and strange music like that, while he rides around.  Doesn't work.  Always going to the pool hall.  He's crazy alright!"
Me:  "Oh really?"
Boy:  "Ya.  Where do you live?  Around here?  Have you seen them?"
Me:  Embarassed   "Oh....not too far from here.  I better go".

So I guess...... I must have been fairly invisible back then....at least to that boy....but the "crazy people who live in that house" weren't.

That was the strangest thing.  Talking to that boy and pretending not to know about that house or who lived in it.  I never saw him again and was  worried, after that, that I might.  

I think IIIIIIIII had the fantasy that they were able to hide the craziness behind closed doors until that day.  I think that boy helped me realize that other people could see a bit of it.  So I guess, he did me a favour.  Made me feel kind of.....validated....in a very odd way.

Those crazy people who lived in that house.    And he also made me feel connected.    I was one of them.    One of those crazy people who lived in that house.    Except.....unseen.    Or was I crazy?  He made me think about that.  I think it was a good thing maybe.  I decided I wasn't crazy after thinking about it awhile.

Sorry for the highjack.  This just came to my mind when I read this thread.   All the weird feelings I had when he was describing his view.

GFN

[Stormchild]

GFN, I don't know how to tell you this, but from your description of that boy's description of your family [whew!]

it sounds to me as though your dad was either a geologist or a paleontologist, and your brother would have made one heckuva jazz/blues DJ if he'd found his way to, say, Toronto or Chicago. The alcohol is sad, the unemployment of your brother is sad, but the rest of it sounds... creative ... as though, even though the emotions didn't work, there were working minds available for them to be attached to ...

but then again, I'm one of those oddballs myself, except with a job and without the booze, so I'm sure that I am seeing this story through the filter of my own ostracism-for-being-"different".

Interesting.

Shyte, now we really have hijacked this thread. SORRY October!!!        

[October]

I loved the reference to Cassandra.  I will have to look that up.  It so seemed like my early adult years and even now.
...

One link, chosen pretty well at random:

http://homepage.mac.com/cparada/GML/Cassandra.html

[Stormchild]

GFN, I don't know how to tell you this, but from your description of that boy's description of your family [whew!]

it sounds to me as though your dad was either a geologist or a paleontologist, and your brother would have made one heckuva jazz/blues DJ if he'd found his way to, say, Toronto or Chicago. The alcohol is sad, the unemployment of your brother is sad, but the rest of it sounds... creative ... as though, even though the emotions didn't work, there were working minds available for them to be attached to ...

but then again, I'm one of those oddballs myself, except with a job and without the booze, so I'm sure that I am seeing this story through the filter of my own ostracism-for-being-"different".

Interesting. And I'm not criticising you... because I know full well that the alcohol, and the not working, and the messed up emotions were the important bit. Those things render anything else moot.

Shyte, now we really have hijacked this thread. SORRY October!!!        

[October]

now we really have hijacked this thread.

Not at all.  It is all very relevant.  Carry on.    Only Ns want the floor all to themselves, and the limelight only in their direction. I am happy to share.

[Stormchild]

Hey October. Sorry. I was trying to edit my first post and I must have accidentally clicked on the quote button by mistake. Poo.

Glad you see it as relevant... and oh well. Not everyone gets a chance to exhibit both their first and second thoughts.

((((((((((October + C)))))))))) ((((((((((GFN))))))))))

[Anonymous]

Hi all:

Thanks for not minding sharing October.  Even though it's probably something not needing a thanks for....it's just a quality but thanks anyway.
 

Hey Stormy:

GFN, I don't know how to tell you this,

Ohhhhhhh just go ahead and tell me then!!

but from your description of that boy's description of your family [whew!]

it sounds to me as though your dad was either a geologist or a paleontologist,

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!  Nope. He wasn't interested in anyone else's life, prehistoric or not, but his own (but he did like animals).
And I don't think he knew what geology was but maybe I'm wrong.

He was neither.  Not only that, he wore a 3 piece suit out there, in the garage and everywhere else, even when he was cutting the grass, in 80 degree weather, and he wasn't a business man either.  Nope.  Ever see a guy wearing a 3 piece suit sitting in an aluminum boat, fishing.  If so, that was probably my dad.  He was just strange.  No other word for it.

and your brother would have made one heckuva jazz/blues DJ if he'd found his way to, say, Toronto or Chicago.

Maybe in any other age but not when rock 'n roll was so innn and so coool man!   Naw...he was just eccentric and brain damaged (but.....that's another story).

The alcohol is sad, the unemployment of your brother is sad, but the rest of it sounds... creative ... as though, even though the emotions didn't work, there were working minds available for them to be attached to ...

Ya know Stormy, I gotta hand it to ya, who else would find something so positive to say about such a loonie bunch?  Truly......you do see the good stuff!  Creative!  My mother would kill herself laughing if she heard you say that!!  Me too!!  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha....wait a minute......you're right!!   I guess he was pretty darn creative and so was my brother!  Cooky but creatively cooky.  So that's where I got that!!!

Mind you, everyone else in the suburbs were "normal' looking, driving "normal" looking cars, doing "normal" looking hobbies (like model building or gardening or even watching football games on TV but not my dad!  Oh no.  He was collecting rocks.  I'm talking thousands of pounds of very plain looking rocks.  There were shelves all along both sides of the garage, across the back, up to the roof, that were lined with these piles and piles of rocks.  His hobby was:  prospecting......and he was searching for gold!!!      

(Now if he had of been born back in the Klondike days I could see it.....but then...at that time.......when people were watching "Happy Days" and "Leave it to Beaver"......our garage was piling higher and higher and higher with rocks.  It was so full, you couldn't get a car in there if your life depended on it.  Other people had lawn mowers and garden tools and bicycles in their garages.  We didn't.  Just rocks.  Lot's and lot's of them.  It is funny to think of now.  Back then, it was just embarassing.  

Yes....I guess it was creative though.  Not a get rich sceme I'm afraid.  He never did find gold.   Imagine him trapsing around in the bush, with a pick and a 3 piece suit, swigging from his flask, searching for those rocks!! Very creative indeed.  What a brain!!  How much thought did that take???  Not a good brain, I think.  Or he would have found some of that precious metal he was looking for.  He had it....right under his thumb too.....but he didn't see it.  

Thanks for the hug Stormy.  I think I needed that.

GFN

PS:

But.....

but then again, I'm one of those oddballs myself, except with a job and without the booze, so I'm sure that I am seeing this story through the filter of my own ostracism-for-being-"different".

I think it's ok to be odd.  That part of him was ok (being odd I mean).  But the yelling and the swearing and stopping people on the street and dragging them in to one's garage to show them rocks and yak and yak and the other stuff he did......behind closed doors.  That was more than odd.  It was crazy and it was evil.  

It just didn't show from the outside.....to the outside world....to boys who walked by that house.