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conulyI might as well talk about my family.
My dad, when he was little, was diagnosed as something (I've heard ADD, but I can't verify this). He was born in '43, so it wasn't the fad diagnosis it is now (not that everybody with that diagnosis doesn't deserve it, but I find it hard to believe that so many kids really are AD(H)D). He was on some type of medication which he decided to stop taking because he didn't like how it made him feel. His brother is a bona fide asshole (among other things, we suspect he molested his stepdaughters) and we're not in touch, so no comments on him.
My mom occasionally comments that her mother favored Uncle Gabriel. I don't know if this is true, but Mommy has said that Bonnemaman told her things like "you were such an uncuddly baby". She, like me, has real problems calling people on the phone, as in, she won't do it.
My Uncle Gabriel used to, for years, refuse to eat foods that were touching (so says my mom). When he was in college he still refused to throw out his toy soldiers he no longer played with because "they might hear you" (so says Bonnemaman). He's a single test away from getting his degree or whatever in computer science, but for whatever reason he refuses to take it. He knows the work, so it's kinda stupid, but...
My sister is pretty firmly NT, but a bit prone to depression. So was my dad, I'm told, but I don't remember that about him. I do remember that he used to be very senstive, if I bumped into him passing from the bedroom into the den he'd wake right up.
Lizziey isn't really my sister. I'm not sure she's neurotypical in the literal meaning of the word, but she's as far from autistic as one can get without going off the (human) spectrum entirely.
My Bonpapa, after whom I'm named, was happy to just sit and listen to people instead of talking. People compare me unfavorably to him all the time, mentioning how "he had to divide the hot dogs evenly, so the young toddlers and the fat man all got the same two each". I remember when we went to California and we had tea, and everyone wanted a different sweetener combination and not everyone wanted lemon. Not only could we not make our own teas, we could not switch cups if there was a mistake, since we each had our own cup.
My great-grandmother Valentine, before the war, once did something foolish. She took a hot pan off the stove and ran it under cold water, and the bottom of the pan fell out. According to my family, that was it, she took to her bed and couldn't move for three years, until the bombs started falling. Of course, she had her reasons for being high-strung, and nobody can blame her for that.
I remember *once* hearing about another relative who hacked off part of her arm while scything wheat. And she tore off a piece of her dress, pressed the flesh back into her body, tied it on... and went back to work.
And I can personally relate to each of these anecdotes, and then some. *nodnodnod*
No, there wasn't a point to this, sorry guys.
My dad, when he was little, was diagnosed as something (I've heard ADD, but I can't verify this). He was born in '43, so it wasn't the fad diagnosis it is now (not that everybody with that diagnosis doesn't deserve it, but I find it hard to believe that so many kids really are AD(H)D). He was on some type of medication which he decided to stop taking because he didn't like how it made him feel. His brother is a bona fide asshole (among other things, we suspect he molested his stepdaughters) and we're not in touch, so no comments on him.
My mom occasionally comments that her mother favored Uncle Gabriel. I don't know if this is true, but Mommy has said that Bonnemaman told her things like "you were such an uncuddly baby". She, like me, has real problems calling people on the phone, as in, she won't do it.
My Uncle Gabriel used to, for years, refuse to eat foods that were touching (so says my mom). When he was in college he still refused to throw out his toy soldiers he no longer played with because "they might hear you" (so says Bonnemaman). He's a single test away from getting his degree or whatever in computer science, but for whatever reason he refuses to take it. He knows the work, so it's kinda stupid, but...
My sister is pretty firmly NT, but a bit prone to depression. So was my dad, I'm told, but I don't remember that about him. I do remember that he used to be very senstive, if I bumped into him passing from the bedroom into the den he'd wake right up.
Lizziey isn't really my sister. I'm not sure she's neurotypical in the literal meaning of the word, but she's as far from autistic as one can get without going off the (human) spectrum entirely.
My Bonpapa, after whom I'm named, was happy to just sit and listen to people instead of talking. People compare me unfavorably to him all the time, mentioning how "he had to divide the hot dogs evenly, so the young toddlers and the fat man all got the same two each". I remember when we went to California and we had tea, and everyone wanted a different sweetener combination and not everyone wanted lemon. Not only could we not make our own teas, we could not switch cups if there was a mistake, since we each had our own cup.
My great-grandmother Valentine, before the war, once did something foolish. She took a hot pan off the stove and ran it under cold water, and the bottom of the pan fell out. According to my family, that was it, she took to her bed and couldn't move for three years, until the bombs started falling. Of course, she had her reasons for being high-strung, and nobody can blame her for that.
I remember *once* hearing about another relative who hacked off part of her arm while scything wheat. And she tore off a piece of her dress, pressed the flesh back into her body, tied it on... and went back to work.
And I can personally relate to each of these anecdotes, and then some. *nodnodnod*
No, there wasn't a point to this, sorry guys.
