to be excused or not to be excused
Posted by Di_Hard on Sat, 29 Sep 2018
The last time I saw my Dad when he could speak, he apologised for not having got through to me how important it was to make a success of my life. "I don't know what I did wrong, what else could I have done to make you understand?" He asked, voice trembling. He'd wanted to look after me and helping me look after myself was the best way. It was horrible, him being in the home. I had gone to the visit thinking maybe I could bring him back here, look after him. A few minutes after this talk he was dragging me up and down the corridors telling me I'd always been bloody minded. I'm not sure if he was still stronger than me, but thought that if I broke free, showing he wasn't, it would be one more terrible indignity added to all the rest, so I let him treat me like a stroppy child. Wondered if that's all he thought I ever was, underneath the patience and kindness. There was no way I'd be able to keep him safe with me at home if he wouldn't accept I knew what I was doing.
At some point, in his room, he'd asked how Mum was. She was the reason he was there, though I'm not sure if he knew that. She wouldn't have him at home anymore. My brothers had kept asking if she could be a bit less angry with him but it's not her nature.
My brother had told me I had to move away because he was worried Mum would have a stroke from getting angry with me - she has high blood pressure. It's not normal, after all, to be living with your parents at 37. But Mum said I wasn't capable of living by myself. It was very frustrating as Dad was always telling us how much money he had made by working so hard for us - he could have bought a flat for me nearby, but Mum said no. So when at last I met someone able to cope with me, I used the money saved from working in the supermarket to buy a flat somewhere nice, but to be affordable and nice it was very far away. When I told her I was pregnant she told me to get an abortion.
After Dad had the stroke It was horrible hearing her on the phone talking to him the way she used to talk to me, like he was an animal, and him just taking it with an embarrassed laugh. How I used to.
One time Mum's stoical making the best of a bad job cracked she said she thought I am the way I am out of spite, to her.
So, at 52, I am wondering. Would it help if I had a diagnosis of dyspraxia? Would it help Mum to know there's a reason I am so embarrassing she doesn't mention me in Christmas cards to her family, changes the subject if people ask after me because she is "ashamed" when their children have done so well?
I'm not going to be any different, it won't help me get a job. Won't it just be a new label to stick over the old one?