Familial love

Neither of us consider our family people to ‘love’.

Both of us were taught to say ‘I love you’ to family and to hug and kiss them from the earliest time.

My ability to say ‘I love you’ to and hug family diminished over mid-childhood. My reasoning at the time would have been that I considered these things I’d say and do to a romantic partner, not my family. I continued to allow myself to be hugged by my mother until mid-to-late teenage years.

There were no significant arguments with my parents until age 13. Following this, a tradition of hectic and house-shaking arguments began, almost all centred around me and my increasing differences with my parents and their social-mindset behaviours as I progressively lost the social mindset. My parents rarely ever argued with my sister.

In a forum post at age 14, I considered my family people I ‘didn’t really like much’. At the same age, in response to an online Q&A question asking who I spend the most time with, I stated, ‘I prefer to be alone, but unfortunately, it’s my family I spend the most time with, my damn family.’

At age 14, I stated that I ‘don’t socialise with my family much’ and ‘don’t like sitting and having dinner with them.’ I stated that I was ‘always alone in my room on my laptop’ and that I ‘hate them (or anyone, in fact) being near me or hugging me.’ I also stated that I ‘don’t kiss my parents’ and that I ‘just feel like an outcast everywhere I go that a “normal” person would go.’

The arguments culminated in an assault by my mother at age 15 that led to a visit by the police. The arguments continued and peaked once more at around ages 18 and 19, when my parents retired from their long-time jobs. In response to this second peak, I cut off all nonessential communication with my family (whilst still living in their house), and the arguments almost entirely disappeared.

I played with my sister until around the ages of 13–15, when, as with my parents, I increasingly refrained from interacting her. After these ages, we essentially never interacted despite living in the same house.

My friend also lost the ability to say ‘I love you’ to or hug family members over mid-childhood, however he has always engaged with his family slightly more so than me at the same age, though increasingly less so, similar to the case with romantic love. As with romantic love, I always considered him to be at a stage I was several years prior (since his rates are not as disparate as mine).

The first quarter of this section details the peak in social-mindset-related arguments with my parents at ages 18–19, while the next three quarters detail the sudden drop in arguments after having shut off contact with my parents.

At age 17, my friend’s diagnostic report for autism spectrum disorder stated, ‘When asking what [he] would do if his mother were visibly upset, she felt he wouldn’t take much notice of her, and he wouldn’t comfort her physically.’

At age 18, I stated:

‘Major family argument. It was in a fight over my keyboard, which [my mum] tried to take, but she was in a frenzy and would’ve broken my computer. It was because my keyboard was taken this morning, because I had slept late and missed half of my driving lesson. …

My mum also trashed my wardrobe demanding I leave the home. Dad said I “fucked up”. … It’s all because of my sleeping, but they had to suffer the embarrassment of talking to my driving instructor. I was also embarrassed, as he brought it up at the end of the lesson. My mum and dad often have discussions about me like businessmen at a round table, closed off in a room, frantically discussing what to do with me.

After the struggle for the keyboard, I didn’t fight, because it wasn’t impacting me, and it wouldn’t have helped. I let her trash my wardrobe. I just put it back. My dad had arrived by now. She was in a frenzy, filled with thoughts of me leaving the house. My dad and I were just standing there silent while she screamed and cried.

[My dad and I] don’t like fights, only dialogue. There’s never really been a fight between us, a physical one.’ My friend replied, ‘Your dad seems more like a rational, deliberating man.‘

I replied, ‘Of course. Often, my dad is trying to please my mum, trying not to trigger her. He’ll pose rules to me that mum has dictated just to not get into an argument with her, or she’ll commission him to watch over me to “make sure” I shower or go to bed, and he won’t want to receive her wrath.

I do things at my own discretion. I’ve slacked on brushing my teeth, yet my dentists still give me satisfactory verdicts. Had a check-up just a few weeks ago, was in and out in a few mins. It’s no one else’s problem. I don’t see why anyone should care right now.

The hilarious thing is, it’s my sister who suffered decay recently. I never have. My mum is always on my back about my teeth, however [my sister] suffered decay and had to undergo an operation under general anaesthesia.

Also, my mum was criticising me for my nail infection. Both parents would lash out about it at any chance. However, my sister got the same exact nail infection and had to go through with the operation, while I didn’t. They’re such hypocrites. I seem to know better than them about myself. Of course I do.‘

My friend replied, ‘Is your mother aware you have exceptional knowledge, or doesn’t she care in the “real world”?’

I replied, ‘Yes. Both parents are. They don’t care unless I’ve got a career path, however my dad cares more than my mum. Whenever I’ve shown it to him, his excitement sparks, and he talks about getting me into Oxford, because he knows someone there or something, then it dies down.’

My friend replied, ‘So what’s happening now then? To be continued?’ I replied, ‘Yes. I’m in my room; they’re doing whatever.’

My friend replied, ‘You don’t have the mindset for anything other than researching and living with parents. I don’t know what will happen to you in future. You’ll never be able to live as an adult. Well, you would be able to, but I don’t think you’d ever end up in the position to or get round to it. …

It’s the end of your life currently, just like it is the end of mine, until it will be resumed in some years time (possibly).’

At age 19, I stated:

‘I’ve repeatedly told [my parents] I don’t need “reminding” to eat, shower or do other basic things, but they keep reminding me as if I’m a brain-dead vegetable, and that leads to major arguments.

My parents have a very awful impression of me. All they see is the reclusive boy in his room who they think can’t look after himself. They treat me like a dog.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes. I can see that. They don’t know who you are. I know more than they do.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘Another parental situation has ensued, in case that causes communication issues. Shouting and swearing.

Their impression of me has really gone downhill. They think I’m a vegetable who needs constant monitoring to survive. My dad “reminded” me to eat over the phone, to which I hung up the phone. It’s become a lot worse in recent months.

The house is a hotbed of shouting, daily. It’s just on another level to anything I’ve experienced before. There are actual false beliefs and conspiracies fuelling it.

My mum has come out to me angry at me for things that are completely false, has made up numerous claims of how I’m supposedly purposefully avoiding eating or purposefully wanting to piss her off, and this attitude towards me is daily, constant.

It’s especially insulting when I’m annoyed at my eating myself and desperately trying to fix it. As I told you, when I kept switching from hungry to full, it pissed me off, so when they get pissed off at me about things I am trying to fight myself, it’s just a next level of fury.

It’s not helping their case at all. It delays my eating. It delays my showering. It makes me unable to do it, so really it’s just a dysfunctional situation. … Their efforts to “care” are having the complete reverse effect, and they don’t believe it, no matter how much I tell them.

They don’t believe a lot of what I tell them about me. They’re stuck in this mindset of paranoia. They’re probably knocking days off their lifespan every time they have an outburst, due to the stress caused, and it’s probably happening to me too. It’s a complete waste of breath. “You don’t deserve respect”, “Bastard”, “You are crap.”‘

At age 19, I stated:

‘There was a time only about a year or two ago in which my mother literally locked me outside in the garden.

I voluntarily went in the garden as a compromise for walking [which she had wanted me to do and was angry about], and when I tried to come back in, she had locked it, and it was a good 5–10 minutes before my dad came out to see me, not knowing that my mum had locked me out.’

At age 19, I stated, ‘I find no joy in spending time with my family, because of how they treat me, so they’re like anyone else to me.’

At age 18, my friend asked:

‘What time do you have to get up?’ I replied, ‘A time that won’t piss off my parents for some godforsaken reason. My mum said “Fuck off” to one of my reasons for my sleep today. It’s an endless cycle.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes. That’s my mum’s response to some things. It’s just, “Oh fuck off, fuck right off.” What was your reason?’ I replied, ‘Forgot. Same things I always say. I just tell her I can’t control it, that I’m not tired, that I can’t sleep when I want to. My parents are constantly unhappy with me because of it. I cannot communicate with them, especially the mother.‘

My friend replied, ‘What does shouting achieve?’ I replied, ‘Nothing but more shouting. It’s an endless cycle.’ My friend replied, ‘I wonder why they shout then. How often are you shouted at?’ I replied, ‘Every day.’

I continued, ‘There was one time I woke up about a week ago to sounds of my mum frantically crying about me. It’s ridiculous.’ My friend replied, ‘Wtf? Why on earth? She should be elated. What a son to have. There is nobody like you.‘

I replied, ‘Hahaha. Remember, she’s concerned with me having a future. Nothing else is that important to her.’ My friend replied, ‘But it’s ludicrous. But it’s delusional.’

I replied, ‘Her responses are ludicrous indeed, how she deals with it.’ My friend replied, ‘If I was a parent, I would be very happy with you, as would you be very happy with you. I would whack her with my knowledge.’

I replied, ‘Remember, too: there’s been almost no opportunity to communicate with her in, like, the past year. She has forgotten much about me, I’m sure, doesn’t want to know if I bring it up. Nothing about me is important except if I’m getting a future.

It’s impossible to communicate about these things, because I’m shunted away instantly, because it’s not to do with me getting a future, and she’ll find a way to change the subject to that. Only my dad has really piqued an interest when I’ve talked about things, then it dies again when he gets annoyed about something like my sleep.

It’s recurring and impenetrable. Nothing will be good as long as my situation continues and my life in general, as long as they are unhappy with my lifestyle, my showering, my eating, everything. Nothing else is possible. That’s all I hear from them, daily.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes. It seems like they need insight from me. I would love to eulogise you and make them realise your worth.’ I replied, ‘It’s funny, because that’s all they’d talk about when I was a child, my “gifts” [abilities] and how happy they were about it.’

I continued, ‘That’s all gone out the window in recent years, because other things have taken precedence. Nothing else will enter their mind. It’s worthless reminding them about it, because they’ll change it into, “Well how are you going to make a future out of it then?” That’s all they care about.’

My friend replied, ‘What does it matter about this crap, seriously? They’re so capitalist-system-incorporated, it’s unreal.’ I replied, ‘They don’t want to see me wither away and die in my room, but the way they go about it is atrocious. It’s hard to link their intentions and their actions.‘

I continued, ‘They realise [my knowledge] but see no use for it if it doesn’t help me make a living. That’s all the turn any conversation into if I bring it up. That’s why they don’t care about [my sister], because she’s already been working.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘I don’t want to go downstairs and be in the same room as them, the kitchen, because I know they’ll lash out at me for something, especially my mum. … My parents always have conflicting plans over my food.

Often, they’ll make something without me asking them to, then I’ll eat something myself, and they’ll scream at me for it or forbid me, because they’ve made something, and I have to wait.

Or sometimes, I’ll eat something they disagree with, because they don’t think it’s a full meal, but I intend to have snacks, periodic eating. They just want to stuff me, and then they make huge platters and get cross at me when I don’t finish it, and when I make myself a small plate, they get cross at me for not putting enough.

And they tell me off for eating late, because I “should be asleep”, which they want me to do so I can “eat in the morning”, even though they don’t understand that I eat at night. It’s a lose–lose situation all the time.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘The connection is so bad. It seems that, for my parents, in the heat and shouting of worry about my lifestyle and health, they’ve made our connection worse and worsened my lifestyle and health. It’s a toxic household currently.

It was a significant thing when my sister got involved in one of our arguments for the first time ever, and it was because my dad had pulled the plug on the Internet in rage at 9 pm, so my sister freaked out, shouted at him, so he returned it then later shut it off again just for the purpose of me not using electronics at night.

It all revolves around me. The house revolves around panic about me. I would send long voice messages to you, but it would attract too much attention. Even during the daylight, it’s not worth it.

I keep quiet with intention all the time, because if I remind my parents of my existence, and especially that I am sending voice messages or any other thing that doesn’t relate to “self-care” or work, they’ll be pissed, and at night, of course, because they’ll be pissed that I’m not sleep; not pissed, but they’ll find a reason to come in and shout at me.

My mum essentially admitted at one time that she uses me as a verbal punching bag. She constantly talks rubbish, incoherent rants about me, daily when she sees me. There’s always a snarky remark about my lifestyle, always.

I can’t walk past them or in the same room as them without some sort of remark related to my lifestyle. I constantly ask my parents why they’re having a go at me about it, tell them that they’re wasting their breath, tell them to hurry it up, tell them they don’t need to be saying what they’re saying.

I am freezing, but it’s because my mum has needlessly thrown out a lot of my jumpers, because she deemed them “dead”.’ My friend replied, ‘I hate it when people deem or assume. It happens when people are too erratic and hedonistic.’ I replied, ‘Exactly.’

At age 19, my friend stated:

‘Again, I wish you could demonstrate to your father what you do all day, in those moments.’ I replied, ‘If the conversation were possible, I’d do it.’ My friend continued, ‘It might not help, but still, they should see it in all its glory.’

I replied, ‘I have shown them my achievements briefly before, but it always lead to the same depressing ending of how is this going to earn you money, make you a living; more so my mum than my dad, again, but still both.

Mum’s told me before that it permanently annoys her to talk to me, that my voice annoys her and stresses her out in the context of recent things; not my actual voice, the arguments. Conversing is just not possible.‘

My friend replied, ‘My mum doesn’t like my voice. She says, “That voice again, on and on and on”, when I’m not even aware I’m making a voice. Apparently, it is like an expressionless drone.’

At age 19, I asked my friend:

‘Would you say you love your mum?’ My friend replied, ‘Can’t answer that, don’t want to. I don’t say things like that.’ I replied, ‘I couldn’t say it myself. Yes, exactly, but I don’t believe I have such a feeling.’

I continued, ‘I’ve had that police encounter when my mother hit me. I find it hard to believe how I’ve become the worst son in the world to my mother, and I haven’t even committed a capital crime. I haven’t bullied anyone.’

My friend replied, ‘Who said that? Did she say that?’ I replied, ‘She’s often said, “You’re not my son.”‘ My friend replied, ‘HAHA, stupid. That’s like my father. Wonder how they’d deal with me then.’

I replied, ‘Don’t know, but they’d see the similarities with me. The few times I’ve talked to my mother about you, it was not good. When I was talking about your January visit, she was suggesting a lot of things that only regular people would do, for both of us, again, as if she were forgetting I had my condition.

Both parents often act like that. I don’t know what it is, some kind of coping mechanism or attempted motivator, but it’s insulting. She was talking about us going to London or going out to shops or something, and every time I reminded her of how similar you were to me, she was disappointed.

She couldn’t believe someone out there was so similar to me, the son she hates, so the disappointment passed on.’ My friend replied, ‘Hahaha.’ I continued, ‘They’re really ridiculous, just a ridiculous set of parents.’

My friend stated, ‘Well, my parents don’t like the sound of you. They think we are up to no good.‘ I replied, ‘Like what?’ My friend continued, ‘They also believe to some extent that I copy you, which is ridiculous, and it offends me to blind fury every time it comes up.’ I replied, ‘What the hell? How? Yes; it would me too. [My 3-year girlfriend] once suggested I copy you, actually.’

My friend continued, ‘It usually ends up in me shouting and swearing about how I’m the only individual in this society. They should be grateful that I am an individual. If I wasn’t, if I copied, I’d be a drunken idiot.

Usually, this goes on for a long time, and people around me are staring, especially if its in public in a restaurant.’ I replied, ‘Yes. Copy in what way? What are they assuming? How on earth does your mother think you copy me, and doing what?’

My friend replied, ‘Whenever I say you have the same traits as me, I get a comment about I shouldn’t copy what [you’re] doing, especially from my nan. I lose it every time. Doesn’t learn.‘

I replied, ‘That’s so stupid. Yes, I would too. I believe my mum would say similar about me if I talked more about you. My dad probably wouldn’t, since he understands the condition more.’

At age 18, my friend stated:

‘[My mum] is very negative towards your supposed influence in my life. She doesn’t realise that you have no influence, and I dispute with you until the bitter end.’ I replied, ‘Haha, ridiculous. I’m sure my mother would be the same if I had told her more about you.’

My friend replied, ‘My nan is also the same. They can’t cognise our relationship, which is understandable. They think of me by the standards of general people. They think that everyone, including me, is influenced by friends. They think that everyone, including me, tries to copy others.‘

I replied, ‘My parents don’t think of me that way, but they sometimes snap into this instinctive state of treating me like a normal boy, like it’s wishful thinking, forgetting all my problems, pretending they don’t exist.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘[At my grandad’s death when I was 15,] I didn’t cry or have sadness once, but my entire family was bawling, including my sister when my dad told me initially. It scared me, as I’ve explained, whole family turned to zombies, nothing like you’ve ever seen them before, completely helpless. It’s very chilling.

And when I attended the funeral, either my dad or my grandad had chosen one of my piano pieces I practised as the music. I had no emotion, was just constantly gazing around at the horde of crying souls. Weird why they chose something directly related to me to play at his funeral in front of all these people, and I’m the only one not crying.

If my parents were to die at this point, I’d be homeless, so it would be terrible, logistically. Emotionally, I might not be affected, and the reason why is because my entire situation has been terrible since then. I wanted to reengage with them, but literally the only communication has been about my sleep, my eating, my washing, my teeth and my future; nothing else.

A bit like my grandad, my family is knowing less and less about me and is becoming less and less close. My sister: I’d have no emotion. I don’t know her anymore. I have no idea what career she has or wants; the last I knew about her was that she didn’t care about learning or didn’t care about anything, really.

Maybe that’s why I was so affected by that [girl’s video about her dead boyfriend], because it’s the only relationship I can relate to feeling sad about [at this time]. I can’t imagine feeling sad about my family. I barely talk to them, and I would not want to hug or kiss them or be with them constantly or have that connection.

I still remember the first ever heated argument with them; it was with my dad, about a seating position, and I was about 13. Again, it’s not that I fear what my parents will think; I’m literally not able to talk about anything. The conversation will get steered. I will be shouted at about the same old things. Zero connection.

They have only one concern, which I’ve reiterated, and I can’t stress it enough that it is the only thing on their mind right now. The mere fact that I woke up to my mum crying about it and dad trying to calm her down just shows it. The actions are ridiculous, even if the intentions are sound.‘

My friend enquired about this incident, to which I replied, ‘I just was woken up by my mum, who was completely calm, then after she’d left the room, I heard her wailing and crying to my dad in the hallway whilst I was still in my bed, hadn’t got out yet.’ My friend replied, ‘I don’t understand why she would cry hysterically over someone she doesn’t know.’

I replied, ‘Because of my sleep. That’s it. It bothers them immensely. It’s these things, basic lifestyle things. They think I’ll never be able to carry a job if I can’t sleep on time, and they constantly shout that to me. They consider this a “practice period”; I can’t, because it’s not real. It’s just my parents screaming and shouting.

My parents have constantly woken me up in the morning, but I just fall back asleep. I’m constantly getting woken up then falling back sleep, constantly “checked on”, constantly having my blind opened, constantly having my parents sit in my room until I get up, which doesn’t happen.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘My dad asked to take me out on a walk because it was a hot, sunny day. … I decline all such requests, obviously.’ My friend replied, ‘THAT’S THE REASON TO STAY INSIDE. WHAT A JOKE.’ I replied, ‘Yes. Sunlight gives me migraines.‘

I continued, ‘There must be something wrong with my parents. They forget who their own child is or something, forget that I would never agree to such a thing, yet ask me as if I were someone who would, and when I don’t comply, they sometimes change their request into a demand. Doesn’t do anything, of course, but it’s a stupid logic.

And now, mum just came in and screamed to me about the same thing, because I wouldn’t go out for a walk, threatened to call social services. That’s what I have to put up with. Every interaction with my parents is like that.’

My friend replied, ‘Wow. What a joke. Call social services because you don’t want to go out in the sun?’ I replied, ‘That’s what I told her, how ridiculous it sounded. She dismissed it and continued screaming. She threatens to tell social services that she can’t look after me to get me out of the house.’

My friend replied, ‘Well, where would you go?’ I replied, ‘Exactly. I don’t know what they’re thinking, mum in particular. She just uses it as a threat, always threatens to kick me out.’

I later stated, ‘I’ve had, “Do you want me to have you sectioned? Because I will do it.” My friend replied, ‘Sectioned why? You’re already sectioned.’ I replied ‘Hahahahaha.’ My friend replied, ‘But I don’t understand why being sectioned is the answer.’

My friend continued, ‘She wants you to be less sectioned but instead suggests you being sectioned.’ I replied, ‘Exactly. It’s more nonsense from her gob.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘Also, I strongly believe the presence of my parents and how they treat me is strongly influencing my approach to my future. When I tell them that, I think I’m not lying.

Because I felt a moment a few days ago when my parents were both gone. I felt a sudden drive to do something about my future, to go online and search about my situation and how to get out of it, and as soon as my parents returned, it was gone.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘My house is in the most dismal situation it’s ever been in. … All trace of good memories and experiences with my house and family are gone. There’s no family bond anymore.

I find it a shame that my parents have resorted to being monsters, and there seems no sign that they’ll change before they die. It just looks like they’ll die like this, die angry with me, which I find a big shame.’

At age 18, my friend stated:

‘I can’t stop thinking about my family’s death. It’s all going to happen at once, and me growing older, looking back on it all, I’m going to be experiencing feelings I’ve never experienced before.’

I replied, ‘I never think about it, except with regards to my situation. I never think about it standalone. I could never be sad about the mere fact of them dying, but I do find it a shame that they’ve wasted several years of their lives arguing with me when they could’ve been fostering a closer bond and sharing in my knowledge instead of treating me like a dumb vegetable.

But I would have to disagree, because I’ve never felt such a misery about my parents’ death, nor my sister’s.’ My friend replied, ‘Neither did I, because I didn’t think about things like that. Now, it has become a reality. This is the crucial time that the thoughts will happen, and it just so happens that there isn’t much to miss about your parents at this time.’

I replied, ‘Well, I will never know what it’s like to imagine having a lot to miss about anyone, except someone I have romantic feelings for. It’s that simple. You clearly have it for a select few other people. I just don’t have it for anyone, except in that case.

I won’t [experience those feelings], except marginally. It will be like my grandad’s death, only slightly more poignant, but the main reason for my feelings then were because of everyone else crying in my face. It was feelings of fear and seeing my family turn to zombies. That’s what it was like.

You say you’ll have these feelings for your parents and not mine, but I’m saying I wouldn’t have it for either my parents or yours, because I just won’t. It’s not in my capacity to have such feelings, to love family members.’

My friend replied, ‘Don’t get me wrong; I can’t say “I love you” to family members, and I cant hug or kiss them.

They do not know about these feelings. My nan gets insecure sometimes about me not expressing love towards her, which is something I find difficult to comprehend, but I know for certain that I will give her her wish for the first time in her life when she is close to dying. It will mean a lot for me to break away from my inabilities and do it for her for a final time, so that she will die knowing that.’

I replied, ‘You see, at this point, both of my parents don’t even care about that, don’t even care that I don’t hug them or don’t say “I love you”. They accept that it’s me, how I am.

I don’t imagine that being the case for me. I don’t do that, really. I don’t switch around my principles just because someone is in a position like that. Besides, I don’t imagine either of my parents’ deaths to really facilitate me doing that and not allowing me to avoid it without consequences. I feel like I could just get away with not doing it.

Whether or not I say I love my mum or dad is dependent on how they treat me, and so far, they treat me like a dumb vegetable, as I said.

Also, I don’t get the logic of that, really; it’s hardly an experience when one moment, she’s happy with that with happy thoughts in her brain, and the next moment, her brain is dust.

What I want with my parents is a long period of good experiences and them actually getting to know me to make up for all the shit they’ve done the past years, because currently, I’m constantly apprehensive of them, and that’s not right.’

At age 18, my friend stated:

‘This is the culture your sister is getting into.’ I replied, ‘I honestly couldn’t give less of a shit about what my sister does. She’s a stranger to me. You talk about having would’ve risen hell [if it were your sister], but there’s no time or effort for that. What’s the point? I do not know her. She’s like any other person to me.’

I continued, ‘I barely know what my sister thinks of me, though. All I know is that she’s only been nice to me for years now. I have no need to talk to her or will to do so. That’s the thing; that proves I don’t have that “love” connection with my family, because I would be utterly outraged if it were a girl I loved, obviously, but not anyone else; I wouldn’t feel the need to waste my effort to change them.

You have a familial connection I don’t have. I often overhear my parents and sister talking about detestable things or doing detestable things. I never intervene, have no will to. There’s no point. All that’s got to happen is the status quo until I can be independent.’

At age 19, I stated, ‘I’ve done the right thing in sending my parents away more strictly than ever recently. It avoids all these flare-ups when they’re about to happen. I just tell them to get out or close the door. The less interaction I have with my parents, the more peaceful and happy my life is.’

At age 19, in response to my friend describing how he decides to argue back to his mother, I stated:

‘My aim has always been to get the problems away from me, because I already know that trying to teach lessons has never worked, so this has worked.

I avoid interaction with my parents. I send them out the moment they step into my room now. I barely even let them open the door, on the basis of letting horrible smells in, and it’s stopped most arguments. Any interaction with my parents comes to argument, so I avoid it, and it’s working.’

The girl in our group chat mentioned being constantly told that she smells by her parents even after she’s showered, to which I replied, ‘Hahaha. That used to happen to me, until my solution, which is working so effectively, I’m shocked.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘That just brought something up in my mind: my parents’ funerals and who will attend. God, I would hate that. I don’t want to be seen around any of those people. I’d gladly not attend my parents’ funerals or have anything to do with them if I could, but I know I’ll probably have to. It just depends.

It’s funny, because they’re practically the only two adults I regularly see and know in the family. There’s my uncle I never see, no idea what he thinks or expects of me; my sister, of course; don’t really know who else, which is good.

I’m glad I don’t have extended family. I’m glad my family is small so I don’t have to give a shit about all these relatives. My mother’s funeral will be much more problematic, because she does have extended family, highly emotional ones, and I’ll be expected to be there.

It will be a very difficult time, having all that attention drawn to me, bad attention. I just want all this fluff and rubbish to go away. I hate all these stupid traditions. I hate celebrations. I hate all these expectations. I wish people would just stop expecting anything of me. It’s cancer.’

My friend replied, ‘I am dreading my grandparents’ funerals. I hate it when people expect emotional reaction from me. I hate it when families get insecure over each other like it’s a relationship and their feelings.’

I continued, ‘Thank goodness I don’t have many relatives, but I know I will receive certain things to the effect of that. I know there will be relatives trying to contact me, expecting to see me, expecting me to cry.

Actually, there’s a good question to be had there: what is the rate of teenage and adult children attending their parents’ funerals over not doing so? I imagine it’s vast majority, but I’d like to know just how much.

It also brings up a burning topic: I must address my own death’s plans, as soon as possible, a will, so to speak. It does need to be addressed, because if I don’t address this, my parents or whoever else it is will hold a traditional funeral for me, and my dignity will be obliterated.

I have to plan for everything; a drunk driver could hit me in the street. And also, even if I grow old, there’ll still be obnoxious relatives who will do something for me I don’t want them to, nephews or whatever.’

At age 19, I stated, ‘I just avoid telling my parents anything at this point. Not worth the drama.’

At age 19, I responded to the girl in our group chat, who had stated:

‘[My nan] went into hospital, and I was so afraid she wouldn’t come out and that I’d never see her again, because I couldn’t go up and see her, because I live too far away.’

I replied, ‘I think that’s something I don’t relate to anyone on, as if I didn’t already have enough things I don’t relate to any person on the planet on. I couldn’t feel that fear for any family member.

There was a point when I couldn’t say for sure whether I’d be visibly upset at my parents’ death, but now, I can say for 99% certain that I won’t.’

At age 19, I stated to the same girl:

‘My parents used to chastise me for my shower length [which was long] for years, but I never changed, so they gave up. They no longer bother me about my teeth or eating either anymore, only since this year. It’s been a breath of fresh air in that sense.

I’ve told [my friend] that I cried in a few family arguments in the past when it dawned on me that I’ll never get through to my parents and that they’ll die angry with me, with the same false beliefs about me, and that all the good moments that should’ve been will never be. That doesn’t happen anymore, though. I’ve long accepted that fact.’

At age 19, I stated:

‘I was just asked to be present for my sister’s candle-blowing. It took me a while, but then I refused, because I really thought about it.

I’d never really refused that stuff before, but then I realised all that happened last night [during my sister’s birthday party with 30 guests, in which I was ridiculed by my parents] and everything else throughout the year.

It all just came back to me, and then that made me decide. Why she would even want me there, I don’t know.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘Food used to be the absolute devil. It just proves that if you leave me to my own devices, I’ll solve a problem.

I’m just realising now how much of an overwhelming relief it is that I don’t have to have my parents’ Sunday lunches anymore or any of the random crap they cook up, forcing me to eat it because I “need variety”.’

In response to the girl in our group chat stating that she feels forced to finish her plate, ‘probably [stemming] from childhood when my parents thought I was anorexic’, I stated, ‘I have the opposite issue, as you know, where I don’t often finish my plate. I eat until full, and that’s that.’

I continued, ‘Plates don’t matter. The plate is just an estimate of what I can eat plus a surplus, so that I make sure I eat as much as I could be eating. Every single time, it would cause a huge argument, often ending in door-slamming.

No longer do I have to put up with that. God, the rubbish my parents came up with. No wonder I don’t want anything to do with them anymore. I would never ever put my child through any of that.

It’s utterly ridiculous, the things they’d do, nonsensical, serving these random dishes and expecting me to eat them. What did they think, that my taste would randomly change at some point?

All they did was cost themselves money by chucking whole plates in the bin. No wonder we’re low on cash, thanks to all their stupid initiatives. Thank goodness I don’t talk to my parents anymore.’

At age 20, I stated, ‘My parents will claim to care about me, and maybe my sister too (?, I don’t know), but they’ll brazenly do things that show complete disrespect, yet obviously both my parents would be in pieces if I died, which doesn’t really make sense to me given how they act.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘I hear many stories of things parents say to their kids, and they’re just so alien, as they would never happen to me, because I’ve adopted the policy that avoids it.

Every time my parents asked me to eat with them in the past, it’s erupted into an argument or a berating of me, so it’s never happening again, ever, not on Christmas, not on birthdays. They can do nothing about it.

My family is in absolutely no way an emotional support pillar. I could never even conceive of venting to them or telling them my unrelated worries.’

At age 20, the girl in our group chat stated:

‘I hate when my parents try to guilt-trip me into playing with my sister and trying to make me feel bad… saying, “[Your brother] spent a lot of money on [that Wii U game] and put so much thought into it, and you haven’t even touched it. Sad, really.“‘

My friend replied, ‘I get that. It’s just not compatible with me. It’s just not how I function, or how any ideal relationship would function.

I can’t be dealing with people buying things for me and having to say “Thank you” to people. I hated Christmas, because my reaction disappoints. I get that with Christmas presents. I don’t want any Christmas presents. I never use them.

And my mum buys me Christmas presents to give to others. She buys, wraps up and tells me what they are, and I have to give them to my nan, dad. My nan does the same for my mum. She buys, wraps up, and tells me what they are, and I give to my mum. It’s this same old awkward process, very anxiety-evoking.’

I replied to the girl, ‘That’s rubbish. I remember when I used to get that about food lol. Never did anything at all to me, especially because it was indeed about food.

Actually, that’s happened outside the house too. I’ve had numerous occasions where I’ve offended people for not consuming their food. Don’t care. There was one time I was round a primary-school friend’s house and didn’t consume his mum’s “carbonara” – didn’t know what it was, wasn’t even going to try it – and he got offended on behalf of his mum.

Then there are the numerous times my parents have said, “We’ve cooked this specially for you; it’s good food, etc. etc.”, hundreds of times. Never changed anything.

You’d think they’d learn, that what they do doesn’t work, but they never do.’

I replied to my friend, ‘Glad I never have to do that [present-wrapping exercise], though there was a time my mum threw the biggest fit ever because I wouldn’t sign a card lol, major fit, screaming the house down, trashing things.

I haven’t had to sign cards in a while now or be served disgusting food. It’s much better not having to deal with my parents or talk to them. It’s a weight lifted off my shoulders.

That reminds me of when I passed my driving test the first time and had no reaction at all, meanwhile the instructor was cheering and hooraying and was completely bemused as to why I wasn’t, and I was forced to explain it away in this incredibly awkward encounter, but I used false, nonsense reasons. I just wanted him to stop talking about it.’ My friend replied, ‘Exactly. Nothing required that celebration.’

I continued, ‘Can you believe that not reacting a certain way elicits a reaction from others, sometimes offence? It’s ridiculous. Why should I be forced to react a certain way to something?’ My friend replied, ‘Yes, and because of that, I get anxiety.’ I replied, ‘Exactly.’

My friend continued, ‘Some of the time, I don’t predict it at all, and it takes me by surprise, but other times, I know I have to react, and I can’t bring myself to do it, even though it obviously looks worse to them not reacting at all, but I can’t bring myself to do it, which is why I postpone any present-giving or receiving at Christmas. When I’ve been given presents to give to someone etc., I’ll play for time, i.e. I’ll eat my breakfast first on Christmas morning, and I’ll make it look like I’m busy.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘Wait. My mum’s invading. They both probably think I’m totally insane now. I’m the most shut-off person ever to live in a family household and still barely survive.’

My friend replied, ‘Despite being far more incorporated with my parents and grandparents than you are, I haven’t reached that stage yet. I’ve managed to mask my behaviours and views.’

I replied, ‘It isn’t about masking, though. It’s their treatment towards me that has elicited my reactions, to such a point that I’ve given up on communicating or interacting.’

My friend replied, ‘But also their views in general. Once you know who they are, it’s hard to forget, regardless of parental bonds, the fact you’d be speaking to alcohol-drinkers and whatever else they tolerate.’

I replied, ‘That’s a complex issue. I don’t get fazed by their alcohol at all, except when they’ve tried to put it on me.’ My friend replied, ‘Yes, but what I mean is, it’s impossible to have a proper discussion or respect for them when you know their views.’

I replied, ‘Well, again, I wouldn’t ask for that much from them. I’m fine with it never ever having to come up.

It’s clear you have a better relationship, because these are the things bothering you, while to me, they’re so trivial. I have much more core issues plaguing me, really basic elements of communication.

My parents are never going to be people I can tell my feelings to about practically anything, and I can accept that. I consider that a luxury, a nice-to-have.

It would be like the parent doubling up as a friend, as a you, would be incredibly hard to come by. It’s just my luck that I don’t have to dedicate myself to them or live with them forever.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘I do believe [my sister] has absolutely no clue about me, no clue who I even talk to anymore.

It’s weird. My parents regularly forget about you, regularly assume I no longer talk to you, just like how [my sister] assumed I was no longer into electronic music. What’s wrong with them?’

At age 20, I stated:

‘I honestly have little clue what [my sister] thinks about me. You always get those tight-knit families whose other family members always say on interviews, “I love him and support him and I’m always there for him” or whatever; I can’t picture her saying that at all.

My sister and I saying “I love you” to each other was something that was forced on us by our parents when we were young children, but it’s certainly not something I’ve ever thought of since the last 8 years or so. I don’t know if that’s the same for [her].’

At age 19, my friend stated:

‘Wtf? This is ridiculous. I tell you what: I’m going to cut my whole family out of my life and move far away. I’m in the same position as you now. All respect is gone.

It’s the whole family vs. me: [my dad], my nan, grandad, mum, her boyfriend. I need to get out. At this moment, I can’t even dare tell them about how you can’t take tablets and used a syrup, as they’d accuse me of copying lol.

They know nothing about me. I feel like I’m going to have to reveal who I really am. They don’t know a lot of my views. They all attacked me at once, though.

Also, apparently I didn’t say “Thank you” to her boyfriend for bringing a meal round the other day on her bidding, and now the fact I won’t take capsules, and they can’t compute why and think I’m doing it just to be awkward, and my nan thinks my toe will come off if I don’t and just use the cream. After that meal, I went to my nan’s, woke up in the morning, and they all pounced on me.

We need to get the hell out. We need to get a place, We need to start working, as far away as possible. It’s time. I had my mum ringing me up, ringing my nan up, her boyfriend echoing in the background, had my nan and grandad on my back. [My dad] was ringing up. I was very close to walking out the door.’

I replied, ‘The funny thing is, my mother freaked out that much when I wouldn’t take my first antibiotics [for an intermittent, no-longer-present abdominal pain that the antibiotics were only being used to rule out infection as a cause of].’

My friend replied, ‘Yes, but this was a massive attack, from multiple people. Yes, the solution always ends up being worse than keeping quiet about the issue in the first place.’

I continued, ‘And yet my mum thought my internal organ was her business and tried forcing me to take something that shouldn’t have concerned her.’

My friend replied, ‘EXACTLY. I can’t believe the emotional ripple effect my personal decision had on everyone else, when it’s NOTHING to do with them. It’s my choice how I treat my condition, but instead, I got crying, emotional blackmail: “Do it for me”, “If you love me, you’ll do it.”

No. I just want to get out. … Don’t even care about respect levels anymore. Can you imagine living with that much emotion? Imagine that life, crying at everything.’

I replied, ‘By all measures, really, you’re in a better position than me.’ My friend replied, ‘Yes. You have nobody and less money, worse qualifications. I’m definitely in a more realistic position to get out.’ I continued, ‘I have nowhere to escape to if my house situation goes downward, no third party.’ My friend replied, ‘Yes; it’d have to be me.’

My friend continued, ‘I can’t deal with all that stress. It’s nonsense. I was even getting stuff like that my mum’s face has frozen up over this, and that now she’s going to lose her job, and that now she’s going to die because of me, and I even got that my nan is going to die because of this, because of the upset I’ve caused her over not swallowing a capsule.’

I replied, ‘Yes. I get that type of stuff.’ My friend continued, ‘It’s just crap. They make it up. It’s because of them. They generate it out of nowhere, the random emotional response that shouldn’t happen from me calmly saying I can’t swallow capsules over a benign skin infection. Their response should be, “OK. Just try the cream, and see if it clears it up. If not, go to the doctor at university, and get a syrup solution.”‘

I replied, ‘Maybe they really do think them being upset will pull at your heartstrings and make you reconsider. Maybe that’s how normal people think, and they think emotional blackmail works.’ My friend replied, ‘It won’t. It just won’t.’

I replied, ‘I know, but it’s scary if that’s what they think. That’s my point.’ My friend continued, ‘And my nan suggested that she would have backed down, and that’s what I’m saying about the malleable mindset. They can’t comprehend not backing down. I’m telling you: I can’t swallow tablets. I have a fear of choking.’

I replied, ‘The thing is, even if you did get given tablets by accident, you could just be made to bear the cost and then go and get a syrup form, instead of all this malarkey.’

My friend continued, ‘I even get shit now when family members see me touching things with my sleeve or shirt – yes, not even shirt but sleeve. They’ll ask why my sleeve is slightly over my hand again when holding something.’

I replied, ‘I would [get that] too if they noticed that. I have to be discreet, basically, if I don’t want a racket.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes, which means you have to tone down, risking infection, all because of some social or emotional mess that shouldn’t happen, like I had to tone down at the restaurant and risked infection. It’s like this social vice.

Our life is shit. Yours is even worse. I won’t make the mistake again of telling them about any ailments I have.

It seems like the right thing to do, to tell people about a wound or infection or discomfort, but instead, they end up making it their business and then emotionally abuse, and you end up worse, because you have to deal with both rather than just the ailment.’

I replied, ‘Yes. I knew the right thing to do was not tell my parents about my pain, but when it first came on, it was excruciating, one of the worst pains I’ve ever felt in my life. That’s what made me tell, because I had to do something about it.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes. They seem like a doorway to getting it sorted, but it ends up worse. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I just sit on my phone with a scowl on my face. I definitely speak to them 10s of times less frequently than I did a few years ago.’

I continued, ‘When I hear your nan, I picture a woman taken straight out of insular, folky Britain in the 1960s, with all the culture norms to go with, and I imagine that’s what’s dealing with you, an embodiment of that and all its views is having to deal with you. It’s like you arguing with 1960s Britain.

“I thought you’d do it for me.” Yes, you’re right; it truly is lunacy, about a capsule.

“Nobody’ll want you”; I’ve got that countless times from family. What really shocks me is when I saw that Reddit video about the “worst” things family members had said behind their back and saw just how unbelievably tame it was. That was a big shock, that they’re considering that the worst things they’ve ever overheard. It’s truly shocking.

“Worried sick”; yes, it’s this strange mind game they play. I don’t get it at all, how someone can claim to care about you but do a million things totally opposite to care. I never got that at all, never will.’

My friend replied, ‘Maybe these people do care, but they are just such buffoons or something, or they can’t help but get tangled up in some emotional spiral and make it about them.’ I replied, ‘Yes. I’ll never get in their minds. It’s not real care. It’s not right. They care in loopy land.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes. They speak about me like I’m their girlfriend. I can’t understand why they get emotions about me like I’m their ideal [partner] and about to leave them or blanking them.’

I replied, ‘Hahaha, exactly. That goes hand-in-hand with my theory of familial love and how I don’t have it. It seems to be practically as strong as romantic love. … I will never understand familial love, because I don’t have it. I don’t get all those emotions for them. …

“Everybody has indigestion“; God, I hate that. I hate when someone responds to something I say with, “Well, everybody has that”, “Everybody hates throwing up“, “Everybody gets bullied.”

It’s the fact your nan dragged out that lamentation for half an hour, dragged out that conversation that started over a pill for half an hour.’ My friend replied, ‘It was longer than that. It was 2 hours.’ I replied, ‘Yes, however many.’

I continued, ‘I get that: “Not that you can’t”. Yes, they never believe our shortcomings. I don’t know why it is they invent reasons why we don’t do things. That’s the root of all our disagreements. They can’t begin to understand the difficulties we have.’

My friend replied, ‘Because they can’t compute it. They have to come up with what would stop them in their world from doing that, as that is all they see.‘

I replied, ‘Yes, but the reasons they invent are even more outlandish than our difficulties. Why on earth would we be randomly wanting to disrespect our family without cause? If that’s her claim, she has to identify a cause, a reason. This is why I say reasoning doesn’t exist in these general people.’

My friend replied, ‘Why would I be doing it for the hell of it? Why would I refuse to take the medicine for the hell of it, just to “get my own way”?’

I replied, ‘It’s not that they have no indication why we are unable. We tell them in great detail, exactly what it is stopping us, and yet they still don’t believe it.‘

My friend replied, ‘Believe me, I’d take it if I were able to. They can’t compute that. I’m not disagreeing with doctors. I’m not disagreeing that it’s the right thing to do, and I’d do it if I were able to do it, wish I could.’

I continued, ‘Those recordings sound like you’re under siege or in a hostage situation, and the phone rings, and people are trying to negotiate with you. You’re just talking with one other person in a room alone and getting periodic phone calls. “TELL HIM TO TAKE IT NOW PLEASE.” “I’ve already told him.”; does sound a bit like my mum to my dad.

I remember when my mum totally freaked out at a bruise I apparently had on my lower back from just resting back in my chair, noticed after an ultrasound procedure a few years ago, on one of the vertebrae. Wasn’t painful and never felt it before. It’s that fact, that it was absolutely a 0 issue to me, no repercussions whatsoever, and yet she totally freaked out, on my behalf.

[I later stated at age 21, ‘I remember when my mum thought my bone lump in my finger could be cancer and started freaking out in the hospital; HPD [histrionic personality disorder]. Cancer in the finger, for crying out loud lol.’

I later stated, ‘If that isn’t the best evidence of Munchausen syndrome by proxy, I don’t know what is.‘]

“What about with a piece of fruit?”; that’s the most unhelpful suggestion she could possibly have come up with. What’s wrong with people? They think they’re caring and helping, and then they come out with shit like that. Makes them look like a joke. Why would they want to look like a joke if they’re trying to help someone? What a family you have.

“What’s the point … when you won’t take a tablet for it?”; they just don’t get it, do they? You’ve already said why you won’t take a tablet and that you want to be able to, and syrups exist, and antibiotics are for non-viral infections only. There are so many holes in what she just said, it’s not even funny.

[About a nail infection:] “That should be washed everyday”; my mum told me exactly that. She said I needed to bathe it in salt or soap water. Guess what? I didn’t, and it healed.

And let’s not forget the numerous screamy fits she threw over “blackheads”, and the few times I went along with trying to pry them out, I was left with a sore and bloody nose, and then they just came back a week later, then I google it and find out they’re natural, and you basically need to do nothing about them. She only cares about cosmetics. She threw fits because she finds them ugly.

I get proven right about things regarding myself all the time, my entire family trying all sorts of procedures and methods on me that didn’t work or had adverse effects: visiting [a psychology group for people with Asperger syndrome], braces, hypnotherapy, “removing blackheads”, prioritising “varied diet” over raw intake when I was at the brink of starvation, criticising me for my hygiene while getting ill far more often themselves, making me walk to the shops in 2012, thinking it will cure anxiety.

When I know what’s best for me, I damn well know what’s best for me. I’ve been proven right practically 100% of the time.’

I later recounted my mother stating, ‘Get out of that bloody chair, or I will go and smash that computer, I will, and the chair, and the bed.’ My father had replied, ‘Shut the fuck up, will you?’

My mother continued, ‘A prison: a bed and a chair is what [prisoners] live in. You commit a crime living. Why is he inflicting it on himself?’ My father again replied, ‘Shut your mouth.’

I remarked, ‘That’s what happens when you try and tell your parents your problems [in this case, about a chest pain].’ My friend replied, ‘What pain?’ I replied, ‘A stabbing chest pain that was limiting my breath. Never had one as severe before.’

My friend replied, ‘You do realise that was absolutely stupid to tell them. I can’t see how the benefit of them being pre-warned outweighs the obvious asking for trouble. Don’t even need to explain why it is asking for trouble.’

I replied, ‘Don’t know why on earth you felt you had the better judgement to say that over myself, who had the pain. It means it was that bad; that’s what you should assume. It means I felt there was a substantial likelihood it was something that would require emergency attention, so it needed to be done.

I had to take shallow breaths. I was panicking for the first few minutes. It took over 3 hours to subside and still hasn’t gone totally. I sent you only the excerpt of my mum, before she stormed out. My dad was actually very helpful, the most helpful he’s been in years.’

I later stated, quoting the above messages, ‘So it turned out that I was right to notify them: X-ray revealed I had a spontaneous pneumothorax. That’s what the chest pain was.

I know myself. I could repeat that sentence 10 times. I know myself.

Nothing they’ve ever panicked about has ever been something serious, but the one time I panicked and asked about A&E, it turned out to be “serious”.

The doctor was a very pleasant Nigerian man, very friendly. He told me everything I needed to know but also quickly worked out that I already knew it.

His approach to the condition was exactly the same as mine, told me everything I had researched back to me. GP, on the other hand, thought it was “anxiety”.‘

My friend replied, ‘GPs are useless. There’s probably a reason why they’re doing that and not surgical procedures.‘

At age 20, I stated:

‘My dad will come in at any moment and demand this walk. I absolutely despise the way he dances about the topic and asks me if I “want to do it”, expecting a yes when he knows it’s a no and always will be a no. I find it insulting, playing his pretend fantasy. I won’t be a part of it. Walks are a source of pointless stress.

And how 2 days ago, he once again tried to slip in an unacceptable destination into the walk in a busy area, which I adamantly refused, but I don’t know how he ever thought I would accept in the first place, if he knew me.

My parents are supposed to know me. They might not know what I share [with you], but they sure as hell know my anxieties, and yet they constantly and consistently pretend that they don’t exist. I don’t know why. It’s extremely insulting. I wish they’d just leave me alone.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘My dad tried to make smalltalk through Facebook Messenger. That’s never happened before. I haven’t read the message, but he sent something about an event he enjoyed with me. I say smalltalk; I really mean some kind of sentimental conversation.’

My friend replied, ‘Hahaha.’ I continued, ‘That’s never, ever happened before. I’m not too comfortable on reading the message before he goes to sleep tonight. I don’t want to have to face him, him knowing I’ve read that message before I can come up with a good response, or even face him immediately after having sent said response. I want him to forget about it by tomorrow.’

My friend replied, ‘Maybe he’s getting desperate, because he’s losing his son.’ I replied, ‘Hahaha. That’s the first thought I had.’ My friend replied, ‘I don’t like it when people know I’ve seen something or might be thinking about something. I don’t like it when people are thinking about what my thoughts are.‘

I replied, ‘Yes. It’s always wrong, anyway. Anything they think I’m thinking is usually wrong, so I have pressure to conform to their expectations or risk offending.

After that dad message, I’m glad my sleep schedule has shifted to wakefulness at night again. He sent it while I was still asleep a few hours ago, so I have less time to wait and a lot of time while everyone else will not be awake.’

My friend replied, ‘What did he send?’ I replied, ‘”Can you see yourself? I enjoyed that day with you.”‘ My friend replied, ‘What does “Can you see yourself” mean?’ I replied, ‘It means he probably sent a picture with it. That’s probably the caption of the picture.’

I later stated, ‘I ended up not responding to that dad Facebook message.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘It’s funny how I wouldn’t care less if my parents didn’t mourn my death, and as far as my sister goes, I actively don’t want her to mourn my death.’ My friend replied, ‘Why would anyone care?’

I replied, ‘Hahaha, well, they “would”. It’s this fake care again. My parents out of all people have the most right to care about my death, aside from you, that is, but my sister, absolutely not. I’m not her child. Why should she care? She doesn’t know me in the slightest.

It’s fake, because they think they know me when they don’t. You are someone who knows me. If they mourned me, they would be mourning a figment of their imagination that doesn’t actually exist [similar to the case with pets], because I haven’t let them into things about me that you know. 90% of what you know about me, they don’t know.’

My friend replied, ‘They wouldn’t know what they are mourning.‘ I replied, ‘Exactly. Also, not only that; it’s the fact that the stuff they don’t know about me, if they knew, they would probably ostracise me for. If they knew what you knew, they probably wouldn’t even want to mourn, so it’s totally hypocritical.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘I never had any remarkable level of respect for my parents over anyone else, especially not my mum, never my mum. My perception of them essentially hasn’t changed since birth except got worse with their treatment, but beforehand, I still saw my father as this half-form version of me, with some things to relate on but others I could never understand, including the alcohol.

In fact, I’ve been enlightened about both of them, really. I’ve discovered reasons or verdicts behind their behaviour and how the whole relationship was even allowed to come about. I’ve learnt a lot. Thank goodness for my computer and my Internet research.

[My dad] told me specifically that he never thought he’d get married and have children right before mum came along. I’ve no idea how this relationship survives, really. When I look at it, I think what a circus show that I’d never ever put up with in a million years. No idea how he does.

When my mum was threatening to leave, I don’t know why he just didn’t, didn’t pack her things and kick her out then and there. He could’ve back then.

If my mum was willing, he should’ve been willing. When any one person in a relationship is threatening to put the whole relationship in jeopardy, you have to see their intentions and match them, essentially, not give them any more effort than they’re willing to give you, not waste and expend, just do away with. It’s no relationship otherwise, no relationship when one is feeling for it and the other isn’t.

Only in the last year have I truly discovered how much better I feel when I block off contact with my parents and how much worse it feels when they interfere again. I’m doing the total and utter best for me right now. My mental health is better when my parents are not in the equation, and I’ve told that to the psychiatrist.’

At age 20, I stated:

‘I doubt my dad would explicitly condone the views I have. It’s unlikely a bond would ever be reached on those matters. It’s not something he’d discuss with his son, necessarily. Besides, everything else gets in the way anyway, all the independence lark.

It’s funny how I’ve not been able to see my parents in any other way for many, many years now, other than that. There hasn’t been any semblance of a human person I can open my feelings up to, only nag machines.’

At age 20, I stated, ‘Every time they pressure me and beg me to do independent things, I become more and more unable. It has the opposite effect. I need to be doing those things for me, not for them.‘

At age 20, I stated:

‘Part of my communication with my parents is done by email, but phone is most. I just don’t check my email; that’s why.’ My friend replied, ‘My mum phones me up when we are indoors all the time.’ I replied, ‘Yes, same.’

My friend continued, ‘I rarely phone her, but I only do when I can’t call out, and that’s when people are downstairs, like a friend of hers or my brother. When other people are in the house, I phone her.’

At age 19, my friend stated in a voice message:

‘It’s actually hell eating with my nan or my mum. It’s hell, hell, because what they do is, you know… It’s constant, constant nagging: “Why don’t you have this?” “Why don’t you have a bit of this sauce?” “Oh, this sauce is there”, and then my mum will try and put something on my plate, and my nan’s like, “Do you want my potato?”

You know, it goes on, and they ask about 5 times, and even though I say no, and I just get angrier each time, it doesn’t stop. I don’t need fucking prompting. If I want it, I will fucking get it and put it on my plate. But no, it’s constant, and I get, “Why aren’t you eating that bit first?” Ffs.’

I replied, ‘Oh, that’s all bollocks. I used to get that about my Sunday roast, but I’d eat the things I could first, the best things first, and leave the rest, struggle greatly to eat the rest.

Yes, exactly. I used to get it all the time. It’s all ancient history, just like most other issues with my parents, all thanks to me and my fantastic solution of cutting off contact and interaction.’

My friend continued in another voice message, ‘It’s like I have to eat my meal in the way they want me to. They can’t deal with it – they need that control. It’s like they’re eating everyone’s meal.

This is what happens when you sit for a meal at the table with my nan: I’ve got my meal there and my drink, and I need to go to the toilet, and my nan gets all angry about me going to the toilet and says, “Oh, your dinner’s going to get cold.”

And then sometimes, I’ve been eating my meal, and I just take a sip of drink, for like 5 seconds, and my nan says, “Oh, your dinner’s getting cold. You can’t drink; your dinner’s getting cold.”

It was a constant commentary on my eating, and it drew attention to it, psychologically made it worse, because I was thinking about the eating.’ I replied, ‘Exactly. Our parents are experts at making us worse.‘

At age 20, I stated in a voice message:

‘I’ll tell you what [my dad] said [when he would argue about me not responding to his hellos]: he’d make it all into this thing where I have to learn how to function in society. He’d make it that. He’d make it out to be me “not getting with society”, not getting with the basic rules of society, whenever I’d simply not say “Hello” back to him.

You know, whatever it was, whether it was saying “Hello” or these pointless phatic expressions, when I wouldn’t return them, it would sometimes end up in an argument like that, and I’d have to try and convince him that it’s nothing to do with my knowledge of social rules and whatever.

You know, even my sleep. Oh my god. Remember the sleep arguments we used to have? How pointless they were, because now they don’t happen at all, and nothing’s changed, haha. They could have easily just not happened then.

But no, he’d make that as well a part of me “not getting with society”, just because I wouldn’t be awake at a certain time; apparently, that means I’m not compatible with society and that I should be compatible and that I should be waking up at a certain time, even when I’ve got no responsibilities and nothing to do. He’d try and make it about that. It’s ridiculous, really.’

I continued in text, ‘A lot of my time was wasted by these pointless arguments. Thank goodness that I decided to no longer interact with my parents. Thank goodness. It’s saved me so much time.’

At age 19, my friend stated:

‘Yes, that’s how it looks like to her, and that’s how it looks like to my nan, me always saying no. It looks like I could only be saying no that many times because I enjoy saying no, or I like being stubborn. It’s all bollocks, the stuff they come up with.’

I replied, ‘It’s like that’s how it would be to them if they were to say no all the time. That’s the only way they can compute it being.‘ My friend replied, ‘Exactly.’

At age 19, my friend stated:

‘That’s my mentor/psychologist meeting.’ I replied, ‘Hahaha. Why are they so concerned about “the course”? Guess they are university counsellors.’

I continued, ‘”Have you thought about how hurt people around you would be that you failed to get the degree they thought you would get?” Are you fucking kidding me? She sounded like my orthodontist, who, by chance, also played the guilt game with me.

They all guilt-game me. Everyone around me. I’ve received it from practically all adult figures around me, attempted guilt-tripping.

With your mentor, it was this; with my orthodontist, it was a strong disappointment that I hadn’t put my retainers in, strong disappointment that my totally healthy teeth weren’t able to remain in a straight position, even when it isn’t a health concern and wasn’t my choice to get braces; it was my mum’s. I went along with it; took a lot of pestering for me to finally accept.

She made it seem like I had a duty or something to put them in and that I’d failed myself, when I hadn’t even fucking chosen to be there, and she is working for free, publicly funded.

From your mum and nan, you get guilt-tripping constantly about grades or a fucking tablet; from my parents, I get everything under the sun, along with “Make us happy” about some shit and that “watching [me] die” comment.’

I continued in a voice message, ‘Honestly, honestly, honestly, I have to switch to audio, because this stuff pisses me off to absolute high heaven.

Honestly, I’m sick to death of the attempted guilt-tripping, and it is attempted, because it never succeeds, but they never realise that.

They’re stuck in the mindset, the social mindset, where that stuff works, you know, so they’re always using it. Every chance they get, every person, every authority figure around me always uses it, always attempts to use it, because they’re only used to it working.

They can only imagine it working, but when they receive nothing from me, they take personal offence. That’s what I mean by I can’t go out into this adult working world without inadvertently causing offence, just by doing nothing wrong, by just, I don’t know, not taking to guilt-tripping? Nothing I do could prevent them from coming with these same bad impressions. I made that comment about bad impressions following me everywhere. I just cannot put up with it any longer.

[The guilt-tripping] comes from all corners, and it’s constant. It’s not in these people, it’s simply not in them, to understand that it doesn’t work on me. It’s simply not in them, so it’s constant. They always try. It never ends. No matter what proof you put in front of their face that it’s not working and would never work, they cannot take it in.

I’m not offended that they’re trying to guilt-trip me, because that stuff works on people in the social world, being disappointed for something that isn’t your actual business, every example from every corner of our lives, like the stranger who tried to tell you off about pushing a trolley [on campus], which was causing no one harm, no one at all, and yet he felt it was his prerogative to tell you off about it.

This mentality makes sense within the social world, to be offended for and criticise people for stuff that only concerns them and actually doesn’t harm or involve, even, anyone else, doesn’t involve anything that isn’t unwarranted, part of their job, expected.

That’s not what I’m annoyed about. What annoys me the most is the fact they never come to realisation. When people continue to do something that’s been proven not once, not ten times, not hundreds of times; millions of times to have the exact same negative effect or not work, but they continue to do it, it’s so absurd that it stops being like, “Oh, they just didn’t learn their lesson”; it stops being, “They have a deficiency in learning lessons“; it proves itself to be an actual, fundamental cognitive difference, like a mental condition.

That’s the only explanation when it’s come to that many times of failing, failing to understand, failing to come to a realisation. It proves that they see the world in a fundamentally different way that will never, ever, ever be reconciled with me and will never get on with me and never make for a good cooperation or a good life between me and these people.

It proves to me that there’s no hope for me to integrate into society when that’s what they do. Imagine what that would do to them, to see me not take to their guilt-tripping time after time after time when they keep trying it, and it arouses the same offence.

You know, this woman, this fucking woman you were talking to who told you, “Have you thought about how hurt people around you would be that you failed to get the degree they thought you would get?” That is just the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard a mentor, so-called “mentor”, tell a student.

And that’s the thing: it proves that it’s not only your parents that are emotionally affected by your own life, even when you know, based on your own mind and your own experience, what you can tolerate the most and what matters to you most. What matters to you is only you and your life. What matters to you is not anything to do with them. It’s about you. It’s your choice what you want to do in your life.

It’s the fact that not only is that emotionally affecting your parents – it gets so absurd, honestly – what emotionally affects your parents has now emotionally affected this mentor woman, so it’s a cascading, domino effect. It’s like a ripple effect, and you can never get away from it. But that’s scary. It’s terrifying that that happens.

It’s like a proxy effect. It passes down the line, and people, because of this “empathy”, as we’re supposed to call it; you know, it’s painted like empathy is a good thing, but how ridiculous is that when, by proxy, this domino effect of emotion for something that doesn’t affect them at all, these people getting sad and upset and emotionally affected by something that concerns only you and only you have the right to choose and dictate about – your own university life – the fact this is now cascading to all these completely unrelated people who don’t even necessarily know your story, and yet, they just immediately adopt the same emotions of the people who are closest to you in your life.

It’s fucking terrifying, but it proves just what would happen, exactly what would happen, if we were put in a working, job situation. It’s a nightmare, absolute, absolute dystopia.

But you know, I can’t get away from the fact that it really does seem like this kind of zombie world. It’s like a zombie apocalypse. That’s how it looks. That’s how it’s always going to look to someone who doesn’t have that.

That’s how it’s always going to look, because there’s no way of teaching that behaviour when it fundamentally isn’t logical – to get that emotionally affected about something that doesn’t concern you or isn’t actually causing physical, practical harm: it’s fundamentally not logical.

The only way that it’s permitted to be seen as logical is within the social world, within the social mindset, but outside that, which is where we and other animals stand, where we and other animals lie, it just isn’t. It simply isn’t. To the individual, it’s not logical. It’s not logical to punish for a victimless crime; it’s not logical to get worked up for something that doesn’t concern you and then get worked up over someone else’s working up over something that doesn’t concern you, which… none of this ever happens in the animal world.

The animal world is all about the individual and practical defence, practical obtaining of resources. There’s none of that [other stuff], and that is real. There’s no delusion there. That’s completely reality. That’s why we have to get writing this. It’s a true dystopia.

I mean, the best way I can put it to a normal person is to imagine that everyone on the planet wore purple t-shirts, and you were the only one who didn’t, and they just did it out of compulsion, no particular reason. They just always did it, and there was no backing down from that compulsion. You know, if you took away their shirt, they would go and buy a new one, and, haha, if you criticised their shirt, they would take offence. That’s the only way we can make other people realise what we feel.

It’s everyone else having something that you don’t, and not understanding why they have it, and them acting offended over something they shouldn’t, in a logical world, be acting offended over.

But I just don’t know, because they’ll never understand how isolating and alien it looks to be in this position, but that’s the only way I can imagine other people having a sense or an idea of what it feels like.

There really is no easy way for it to get through to people, but that’s what we mean, that specific feeling of feeling like you’re the only person on the planet not wearing a purple shirt, and not knowing why everyone is doing it, and not knowing why they get so offended over their purple shirts. That’s exactly it. That’s all it is, nothing else.

I mean, it’s not even funny. I was dragged to that place [the orthodontist’s], and they did what they did, put the braces in. I had them on in extreme pain, pain I would never, ever go through again, just for that stupid gain of almost nothing; didn’t change the occlusion much.

And then it came time to put the retainers in, and I tried. I literally tried. I tried my hardest to put them in; the pain was too much to bear, even with ibuprofen. It was extreme, and I don’t know how other people didn’t have as much pain as me. I went to my sister for her experience; nothing even close. It was unbearable pain. I could not do it, and that was it.

That was not anyone’s fault. That was not my fault; I didn’t choose the pain I feel. That wasn’t her fault; there’s nothing she could’ve done, necessarily; the same painkiller that basically cures my migraines whenever I have them didn’t do anything.

That should’ve been her next course of action. If she were that bent on me putting in these fucking retainers, that should’ve been her next course of action, but no. What was her next course of action? It was basically to insult me, to say, “I’m really disappointed”, “Now, your teeth have gone back; they’ve regressed”, and I told her it was painful, and she made it into a big deal like I’d failed myself, when I didn’t even fucking choose to be there.

And it wasn’t even a fucking health concern. There’s no disease that needs curing; it’s an aesthetic, Western custom to put braces in that isn’t done in many other cultures, and they don’t even need to, because their high-fibre diets don’t even allow^[1] their teeth to fall into such a position that that even becomes a consideration.^[2]

But it shouldn’t even be one, because who the fuck needs to judge someone just based on their teeth not occluding properly? They’re not dirty; they’re not falling out; there’s not a practical consequence there. [“There is a lack of strong scientific evidence for the health benefits of orthodontic treatment – a fact the academic journals and professional associations in the field of orthodontics were slow to admit.^[3]]

It’s so stupid to get that worked up over something that doesn’t even impact anything. Like, she really tried to persuade, as much possible, that I was doing a disservice to my health for not putting those fucking retainers in. You know what the disservice to my health was? It would’ve been having to endure that atrocious pain. That would’ve been the disservice to my health. …

Society would never take kindly to me. There’s no need to dress up for society. My body’s useless. The only thing that’s useful about me [to others] is my brain. There’s no need to do anything more than I need to to survive, so that’s why I can happily maintain myself at this bare minimum situation, where I can pursue my own interests and pursue what I know I have to offer, which is my knowledge and all these crucial conclusions I’ve come to with you that no one else has the brain to come to, because they all have the social mindset.

When I know that’s my worth, and I know that’s what I have to offer, what use is there? There is no use. I have nothing to give or offer or… nothing to owe; that’s the word, nothing to owe to society or my family or anyone else. All I have to offer, if anyone even is owed it, is this knowledge and these conclusions.

At least in the long-term, it’s just luck that I can still type out my documents and still have these conversations with you and still come to these conclusions, because my brain is intact. I don’t care if they’re guilt-tripping over my weight or my hair or my bones, my teeth. I just don’t care, because as long as I can still bite my food, as long as I can still move around, move my muscles, walk from A to B, it can waste away past what society deems acceptable, but as long as it’s actually practically acceptable, I just don’t care. I don’t care if they criticise me for my body; I don’t care if they criticise me for my hair or my teeth.

When people always think they’re doing the right thing for me, they always end up doing the exact opposite, wrong thing, and I always tell them; I always make it extremely clear. I am always as clear as day and consistent, and I always make my voice heard when I know something’s not right for me, when I know what’s best for me, and they never take it on board – they always do the opposite.

And that’s the cognitive difference, you know. That’s the proof right there. Their emotions need to be satisfied before my own health. Nothing I say or do is ever going to make them learn from the mistakes. They can’t learn from these kinds of mistakes, and that’s how it is, and if that’s how it goes, that’s how it’s going to go.’

At age 19, my friend stated:

‘What have your parents said to you then? What do you think you look like to them?’ I replied, ‘It’s because I’m refusing contact and not letting them into the room. My mum said, “You’re becoming weird.”‘ My friend replied, ‘Haha, is that all? Becoming weird, when nothing has changed? It seems like they’ve stopped speaking to you as much.’

I replied, ‘No, but it has changed. I don’t respond to them, usually, when they try to initiate communication; depends on the time of day or whether I need something. If it’s something nonessential, I just don’t bother asking, because I don’t expect them to peacefully fulfil, or fulfil at all.

I was talking about the parents-making-you-say-“I-love-you” thing in childhood. I had something else more recently: throughout teenage years, my dad would say “Hello” practically whenever I passed him in the house for the first time in the day, and he’d get annoyed when I wouldn’t say “Hello” back, and for a short time, I did say “Hello” back just to stop the bickering, but it was incredibly uncomfortable.

As you can guess, I don’t bother saying anything as of 1 year ago. My dad’s been forced to accept that I won’t give him the pleasure of saying “Hello” to him every single time I see him for the first time.’

My friend replied, ‘Oh yes; my dad used to get angry because I didn’t ask him whether he had a nice day at work, as a child. My mum was defending me lol.’ I replied, ‘Mine wasn’t. She encourages that sort of talk.’

My friend asked, ‘Do they think you’ve got severe mental-health issues?’ I replied, ‘Yes, of course. I wouldn’t blame anyone with the social mindset in my parents’ position for seeing me that way, but their actions don’t help to make it better and make me seem better. They inflame it and make it worse and drive me away.‘

My friend replied, ‘It’s a shame, really. If they knew what we know, they’d be interacting with you, could have an alright time. … Yes, [the “Hello” thing] is such a stupid interaction.’ I replied, ‘Yes, well it’s stupid when there isn’t a basis to it, and definitely stupid to get angry over, and especially the 100th time it’s happened. Both parents have a never-learning complex. Their anger response is usually the exact same to the same issue every time.‘

My friend replied, ‘Yes. It’s like that autistic boy next to me at university: when I walk in the kitchen, and he’s there, I almost want to turn away when I see him through the glass of the door, because I know when I walk in, he will shout “Hello” to me, and I’ll have to go through the awkwardness of not responding and people thinking something is wrong with me, thus drawing attention.’

I replied, ‘Hahaha, yes, like how I don’t walk into the kitchen when my family is there, to avoid the awkward expected interaction.’ My friend replied, ‘Whats the point in saying “Hello”? It’s totally unnecessary. I don’t respond.’

I replied, ‘Exactly. It’s funny; the way I’ve said “Hello” or “Hi” to girls is almost ironic. I almost said it as if I was parodying the daily greeting.’ My friend replied, ‘Yes, but I do. I fake it, because there’s no other way.’ I replied, ‘Yes. I say it like I’m putting on this happy-go-lucky act, once again becoming the “normal person” only in the context of romantic relationships.’

At age 20, I stated, ‘It’s the fact I referred to my sister as “my sister” to my mum, instead of [by her name]. I didn’t even realise I’d done it until a few seconds later, all because of how separated I’ve become from that hellhole family life.’ My friend replied, ‘Exactly. Hilarious.’

At age 20, in response to my friend arguing to his mother, I stated:

‘It sounds like you’re dictating all of that to an anencephalic vegetable. It sounds like such a waste of time, like the words are going right through her head.

That’s how I picture it; I picture orating that to a brick on a chair, literally. That’s what I picture going on, me angrily passionately speaking my mind to a red brick on a plastic chair, and the camera pans from my passionate speech over to the static brick, holds the shot for a few seconds, no joke. It’s that painful. It’s that annoying.’

My friend replied, ‘Hahaha, like in a comedy programme; it goes on for 20 minutes, wide, gesticulating speech, and just when you conclude, and the audience think you’ve got through, the camera pans to a steel garden chair.

It’s true, but I have more emotion for my mum than you do. I’m not sure why. I’m not sure if that’s an issue with me or an issue with your nuclear family members.’

I replied, ‘Yes, emotion I don’t understand. I’m going to highly, highly doubt it’s an issue with my family members. I know I lack emotion there, because look at my dad; he’s not as bad as any of your family members.’

My friend replied, ‘I don’t know what it is. It could be conditional, if my sibling were like you, for instance. Would I cry [at their deaths]? I don’t know, but my mum, nan and grandad aren’t like us, but I would cry, but my brother isn’t like us, and I wouldn’t cry.

If my mum were horrible to me all my life, would I still cry? Horrible to me rather than just having stupid views; would it change the feeling I have for her, whatever it is? At the same time, I objectively see you way as the right way to be.

As for my mum, it’s really hard to explain the emotion I get, but it’s like I feel sorry for her. I feel guilty. I feel like she’s a person with feelings. I feel guilty crushing everything she has ever known about people or herself or what I think of her, but also, it’s that I don’t want to break the relationship dynamic, one that’s been going on for years.

It reminds me sentimentally of childhood with my mum. I’ve been acting for so long, and it’s all she knows about me. It would feel weird to reveal myself as a completely different monster. I’d feel bad, but it’s that feeling fighting against injustice feelings and the fact what I see is right. It’s just a big battle.’

I replied, ‘I just don’t get that with my mum. None of this applies to me anymore. I do not talk to my mum, so there is nothing, and that’s the way I prefer it.’ My friend replied, ‘The bond or reliance on your mum ended long ago or was as never as strong in the first place due to the household dynamic.’

In response to my friend wondering whether it could be conditional, I stated, ‘That’s the same as asking if I’d cry if you died. There’s no difference to me the fact it’s a sibling, no difference the fact it’s a family member. Only a girl I have feelings for [which is also essentially impossible now] could ever possibly be the exception.

As for my own children, I don’t know, honestly, haven’t reached that stage to know or not. Based on all the logic and evidence of now, I’d say no, not even for my own children.’

In response to my friend wondering whether mistreatment from his mother would change how he feels about her, I stated, ‘I remember when I was very young having thoughts of my mum dying in some car accident and being very upset about it. I probably had the ability to cry about that back then.’

I continued in a voice message, ‘You know what’s funny? What’s funny is that I tried to contemplate in my mind and make the argument that I would feel upset for… well, not upset but cry at the deaths of my own children because of the investment that I put into them and the effort and the time.

But then I realised, the fact that I’m even needing to ponder that at all means I wouldn’t cry, because that’s the same thing I did for wondering if I’d cry for your death or a stranger or parents, whoever.

And when I’m having to ponder that, I realised that I don’t have to ponder anything when I try and imagine crying at the death of a girl I love, because it’s just instantly obvious, so when I’m even having to guess and ponder, it basically points away from the fact that I would cry at that.’

My friend replied, ‘I have to ponder crying at the death of a girlfriend.’ I replied, ‘Yes. That’s because your definition of a girlfriend is different to mine. You haven’t had what I had with [my girlfriend] in 2014, which I don’t think I’ll ever get again, so yes, of course I won’t be crying over a girl anytime soon.’

I continued, ‘I never cried so much about girls as I did in 2014. The post of long-term romantic partner is dormant/sealed, so no girl I speak to is actually going to fill that post and be eligible for crying, if you get what I mean.’

My friend replied, ‘The last 5 times I cried would be at the thought of my death or the thought of my grandparents’ or mum’s death or the realisation that I can’t go back in time and that my childhood is over. The last time I cried about a girl was 2015. I have cried once in 2019.’

I replied, ‘I can’t remember crying in 2019. I got a lump in my throat over those [2014-girlfriend] videos but no eye-watering.’ My friend replied, ‘I don’t cry over past girls. I cry about the time, my life then and that being the present day, wanting it back.’ I replied, ‘I don’t get that cry response when I look at pictures of [the girl]. It was because I’d discovered unseen footage and had been going through that for the past hour.’

I continued, ‘The last time I cried at the thought of parents’ death was when I was below 10. However, I cried numerous times during arguments with both of them after then, but now mum cries, and I don’t.

I cried during the argument in which I told them they were going to die before things got better, because it wasn’t getting through. It’s worse when it’s both of them going at you at the same time. You look sillier trying to defend yourself against both at the same time. … I’ve never cried at the thought of my own death. I have cried about my childhood but not in years.’

In response to the ‘looking silly trying to defend yourself’ comment, my friend stated, ‘I don’t know why, though. Whatever that feeling is, it shouldn’t happen, because you are objectively right. It happens to me as well, obviously, but it shouldn’t.’ I replied, ‘It causes immense cringe. It affects how they behave around you for the next few hours.’

At age 20, I stated in a voice message:

‘It’s really quite a peculiar sight to see that you’re still in that stage where your family’s pressuring you to write cards and give presents, “Sign this card for your dad” or whatever it is, but for me, that’s all in the past, because I’ve just managed to successfully separate myself off so much that they just never come to me about that stuff anymore.

But absolutely, I was in your exact position for most of my life until approximately 2 years ago. A lot of what you say and what you have to deal with is just ancient history to me, and it’s quite interesting. It’s quite peculiar to see that.

I mean, it’s quite hilarious, because clearly, it’s my family and I who are the odd ones out, because other families would be celebrating every birthday of each of their family members, cards and gatherings and gather-rounds and buying gifts, but for me, my mum’s birthday just passes like my other day. My dad’s birthday just passes like any other day. My birthday just passes like any other day. The only exception is obviously my sister, who had to bring 40 fucking friends round on her birthdays. It’s our family that’s the odd one out.

I don’t know, though, because it’s not just me having separated myself who’s done this, because obviously, me doing that was a reaction to the change in the way they treated me when they retired and everything, but it’s them as well, because they’ve almost become mini versions of me. They’ve kind of stopped inviting guests over, really.

I never hear about their birthdays. I never hear them talking about or celebrating it. They don’t have gatherings much. They don’t really do anything for their birthdays. A lot of the stuff from the past just kind of fell of a cliff, just kind of stopped 2 years ago when they retired.

Oh yeah, no more holidays as well. That hasn’t happened in a while. Celebrations don’t happen in this family anymore the way they used to, really; Easter, nope; Halloween, nope. Haha, just nothing. They’ve almost become reflections of me, but I did what I did in response to them and how they were treating me, so it’s weird.

I still remember 2 or 3 years ago, one of the last times my mum came to me about my dad’s birthday and complained, “You forget your dad’s birthday”, “You don’t do anything for your dad’s birthday” or whatever, and now she doesn’t even enter my room.

Every day is much more peaceful now. I don’t have to deal with the same interruptions I did before. Everything is just… better in a sense. It’s more peaceful. It’s calmer. The only downside to the cut-off of communication is obviously less stability of the supply line, food, etc., but everything else is gone. It’s the past. Everything’s much more peaceful now.’

At age 21, I stated in a voice message:

‘I’m the exact kind of person who tries my best to not interfere in people’s lives. I don’t socialise. Even to the people who do provide for me, I stay as far away as possible. I’m making it as easy as possible for them.

But of course, to them, it’s not like that, because they would rather I interact, and they would rather I get up and socialise.

For them, that feeds into their emotional whims and emotional desires and all that, such that it feels like, when I’m not doing that, when I’m not fulfilling those desires for them that only they have and I don’t, I’m doing them wrong and that I’m not being appreciative of them.

It’s a deadlock scenario, but that’s the thing; that’s why it’s hard to speak about the objective measures here, because me, with my brain, I would emphasise – emphasise is the right word here – the fact that I’m not being a problem for them.

Any physical, practical bad thing that can come out of these interactions: it’s not there. Any arguments – arguments dropped. They dropped like a stone when I stopped interacting with people, and that’s a good thing.

No person to interact with, no person to have arguments with. Of course, for me, that has greatly, greatly raised my mental level of peace of mind, but for them, they’d rather have those arguments. They’d rather be interacting with me and having a bond with me, even if it meant there were constant arguments, and it’s them. It’s always them.

Every time we did argue, which was, like, absolutely persistent, for years on end, every day, it would be them asking for the next interaction.

It would be them saying, “Why don’t you come and talk to us for a second?” or “Why don’t you come and have dinner with us downstairs?” or “Why don’t we just have a chat?”, even if, based on the track record, and they knew it, or, at least, they should know – they must be stupid if they don’t know – that would always lead to another argument immediately the next time round, no matter how many times.

That’s why I say the learning process there doesn’t exist, because of that drive, so the drive for the social bond overrides the learning process, because they don’t see it as something bad. They don’t see having argument after argument after argument after argument as bad, as long as it means they’re having an interaction at the end of the day, a constant, persistent one, one that once they’ve had it, they can go and ask for another one the next time, even if it ends in an argument.

And that’s what I don’t have, so because I don’t have that drive to do that, all I see is going into this interaction, having an argument: “Oh no. That was bad. That was a bad experience. My tension went up”, then I see that as the negative, and that means that I consolidate it as something to avoid in the future, and therefore I avoid it in the future.

They don’t. They don’t do that. They ask for more, because of something else, some other drive in their brain that’s asking for that, asking for more.

Of course, that’s the thing about the objective measures. It is objective that I’m giving them less chance of being infected with germs – indeed, less chance for me to be infected with germs – less chance for arguments and all that. That’s all real stuff.’

At age 20, my friend stated:

‘Actually, that’s why parents ask multiple times and pressure us. They ask if I want something, and I say no, and they keep pushing and reiterating.

That’s another thing that is caused by that same misconception, the one that assumes that I can’t make decisions for myself and don’t know what’s best for myself and am able to be abused and a victim and need psychologists and parents.’

I replied, ‘Yes, I hear that from parents: “We’re going to keep trying”, “I’m going to keep asking.”‘ My friend replied, ‘Yes. This is why it’s necessary [to write about the social mindset].’

My friend continued, ‘So, yes; it’s a tree, with one thing at the root, and then the core misconceptions that that causes branching out and then the results branching off of those.’

I replied, ‘The social mindset is fucking crazy, basically, absolute parallel-universe crazy.’ My friend replied, ‘Well, they’re like robots, basically. They’re confined to a very restricted computer program.’

At age 21, my friend stated:

‘”Arguments about your behaviour”; there was nothing wrong with your behaviour. It was more like “arguments because your behaviour didn’t resemble theirs”, or “their behaviour didn’t resemble yours”.

You weren’t arguing with her because you wanted something or going to her. It implies it was a mutual argument, but it was actually her coming to you with an order or an argument.’

I replied, ‘That’s just what they were, though. It’s not saying I or my behaviour was wrong; it’s saying the arguments were about me and my behaviour. It means nothing to me that they were arguing about my behaviour.

It’s like saying they were arguing over a dog lashing out and biting. That’s how ridiculous it looks in the context of the science of the site, so it doesn’t look bad, rather, in the light of things, the opposite.

It shows them to have been unaware of the greater dynamic that was at play that caused my behaviour and theirs. An argument can’t not be mutual, otherwise it wouldn’t exist. I partook, before I became aware they’d never change. I know what I did.

You know, it’s funny, because they’d take that and claim that I’m not taking responsibility, but first of all, what is responsibility? It implies I have an inherent, automatic duty or something to owe to someone; I don’t.

Secondly, it ignores empirical evidence. It’s the fundamental delusion of the social mindset that everyone can do anything and can change or can be this or that, and facts don’t matter. It ignores the MRIs; it ignores the research; it ignores the evidence; it ignores any sort of deterministic, physical way things could be, which is actually how it is.

So that’s the second problem: it ignores fact. It literally refuses to believe fact exists. It defers fact, defers responsibility away from fact – ironically – and on to an assumed brainstem response.

So it’s they who aren’t taking responsibility for their own brainstem-response mechanism, in a hilarious twist of irony. They aren’t acknowledging the mechanism that is leading them to say that, hahaha.’

My friend replied, ‘Yes. Once you are [aware of the dynamic], it stops. Once you become aware, all that energy deflates. It becomes stupid, like shouting at a piece of shit for being brown. That’s what they’re doing at the moment.

They’re in a schizophrenic delusion that is preventing them from seeing the reality that they can see in inanimate objects. When it becomes animate, and especially human, it breaks down.

It goes from being a witnessable, physical phenomenon to be studied and observed that has absolutely no emotion attributed to it whatsoever to this matter of feelings and internal fantasy.

But to me, it still looks as ridiculous as someone shouting at a piece of shit for being brown. Any time I contradicted that by attempting to reason with a person or asking why they did the things they do was a presentation of the social mindset in myself.’

At age 21, my friend stated in a voice message:

‘Why does [my nan] need to tell me how “there’s someone like me” when as soon as she says who it is, instantly, they’ve got the social mindset, so no, and that’s it. They’re not like me, then she doesn’t need to continue saying anything more.

I will say that – she won’t take it seriously. She’ll continue giving me details, which I don’t need to hear, because that’s interpreted as any other time where someone’s claimed that they don’t need to hear any more details, and they’ve been proven wrong, which doesn’t apply in this case.

They’re assuming that me saying no is anyone else who would be saying no, where it would actually be the case that that person doesn’t know what they’re talking about, because no one does, and that’s the problem, whereas in this case, I do. I know that he’s absolutely nothing like me, so it’s a pointless thing to say.

They can’t compute me being able to know that without knowing any details or even hearing a single word come out of that person’s mouth. I don’t need that.

The last name I remember that they claimed I was like [someone], they were saying how he’s got autism, and he behaves like me and all of this and “Oh, he’s like that as well.” so I looked him up, and I thought, hang on; I know him.

And I realise that this person was a person that I’d seen on my bus that I’d taken issue with. I’d had thoughts about him. Literally, he already had a whole identity, a whole position in my life. I already knew how he acted, who he looked like and a whole form, a cult of personality around him about how fucking annoying he was and how disgusted I was with him.

And it’s the fact it turned out to be that person, out of all the people in [this town] that it could’ve been, and it happened to be that, someone that I did not like and knew.’

I replied, ‘Yes, I hate it too. It immediately highlights their lack of understanding of you, immediately brings to the forefront their complete lack of knowing you, hopelessness at knowing you, who you are.

That’s why I laughed when my mum brought up that girl with social anxiety. It was just pitiful laughter, the moment it was mentioned, as a caricature, and then she asks why I’m laughing, and I laugh some more at how clueless she is.’

This interaction with my mother is described as follows. My mother stated, ‘Oh, I had two clients today, and it was a mother and daughter, and the daughter suffers from anxiety, like you.’ I immediately burst out laughing. My mother asked, ‘Why are you laughing?’ I replied, ‘Nothing, nothing.’

My mother continued, ‘And I was talking to her, and she said, “Well, I suffer from social anxiety.” She doesn’t like to be around people. … What? I’m just saying to you that I met somebody who has um …’ I then cut her off with a question about whether the plates in the dishwasher were dirty.

My mother continued, ‘I did say to her mum, “Try to do anything you can to get her going out, because otherwise…” You know, when I look at you, up to when you went to college, you would still go out. Now, you are completely withdrawn, living in your bedroom, literally, which is… my god. It’s just so sad. It’s just so sad.

I just wish you could go out for anything, absolutely anything. I don’t mind: walk, even in a car, haircut, anything, food. I wish you could go out for anything. Tell me when you can.’

At age 21, I stated:

‘I sometimes laugh at how my parents have actually managed to learn in some form that I wouldn’t take to all their old wives’ tales: arguments over sleep, showering, eating with the knife and fork placed on the table.

I see it like they’ve hilariously had to give up in total defeat, reflecting on how nonsensical it was to try to “teach” me those illogical things.’ My friend replied, ‘Eating with the knife and fork placed on the table? Wtf is that?’

I replied, ‘Yes, the ones that they place on the table and then get angry at you for getting your own.’ My friend replied, ‘Because it’s touching the table?’ I replied, ‘Yes.’ My friend replied, ‘Yes. I don’t like that in restaurants.’

I replied, ‘No; I actually got argued with over not eating with a knife and fork in general, my refusal to use a knife.’ My friend replied, ‘Yes, well that always comes up.’

My friend continued, ‘I never use a knife, so there’s a comment every few meals or so: “Why don’t you use a knife?” when my nan sees me doing something on my plate, and I wasn’t even thinking of using a knife.’

I replied, ‘Ugh, don’t bring back those bad memories. They’re years old.‘

At age 21, my friend stated, ‘I hate family members. It’s this relationship that was imposed on me that I didn’t ask for, contract signed before I was born.’ I replied, ‘Exactly.’

At age 22, I stated:

‘They can’t see [the site] objectively. They’ll see it within the frame of it being from their son, and it will bias their assessment. A random researcher won’t have as much of an emotional attachment to it, will have the least, in fact, because it will link with their research before anything else.’

There is no getting past the site. It’s scientific fact, whether they agree with it or not. Anything I do will be proven by the site and not by them. There’s nothing they can do that isn’t what they’ve already done.

The site is a response to everything that’s happened to me in my life. The threat of being kicked out has always been there, and my mum has always acted this way.

The site did not make her almost make me have to call the police last month, did not make her start sending these emails. The site is not sabotaging anything that wasn’t already sabotaged. It’s not leading to anything that hasn’t already been threatened repeatedly or already happened.

It’s the fact they’ve already called me countless swears throughout the years, and they’re supposed to get angry over us complaining about them nagging us to take a tablet or something, or saying we don’t love them.

It’s nothing that hasn’t already been said, by either me to them or by them to me. Most of what’s on the Familial love page is stuff they know about, either stuff I’ve already said to them or stuff they’ve said to me. It’s nothing but an informative little document. It’s a historical account, basically.

Those recent emails gave there even more reason for them to see it, because what else is my response supposed to be? How am I going to explain why I can’t go out, why I don’t talk to them? It is the answer; the site is literally the answer they’re looking for.

Obviously, you should remember: ideally, I’d rather they never saw it, never had to see it, but by their actions, they are putting themselves in the position in which it is better for them to see it, a position in which, should it carry on without them seeing it, would end up worse for me than if they did see it.

I would be forced into so many things I couldn’t tolerate, and they wouldn’t understand why I’m unable. Them being angry at me is the status fucking quo. It’s what I deal with day in day out.

They are blowing their tops, especially mum. My mum is not buying food, hasn’t done for a while. I’m relying on my stash until my delivery arrives.

I already knew going in that it would be impossible for most people to understand the site, so it’s a choice between them having that thinking + 0 scientific to go off and them having that thinking + the site to go off, and I think I know which is better.

It’s taking a -100 and making it a -90, which is better than leaving it at -100 or lower. It’s the logical next step, after all they’ve done and all that’s been said to me. It’s the logical counter, a step towards progress rather than away from it.

The thing is, they’ll have little room to [think I’m making excuses] anymore, because it won’t be me saying it; much of the content and evidence on the site will be from external sources, so they’ll have to take out their issue on them.

So far, it’s been my word, and you see how much worse that is when they have the social mindset, and all they see is people’s word and treat everyone’s face-to-face word the same, so it’s a positive, deferring away from only my word and on to the word of 1,000 other studies.

Yes, they make it about you rather than the facts. They should be asking themselves not ‘How do I know?’ but ‘How would they know?’ given the information on the site, the answer being how it all lines up, the correlations, the studies.

But yes, they make it about you. They’ll make it personal and take it personally when for any researcher, it’ll just be an objective, non-personal resource on a person with severe Asperger’s.

It shouldn’t be about who wrote it but rather what it says, how well it lines up. They should be arguing about the facts and not about the person.

I have absolutely 0 guilt about the website. Basically everything I’ve ever told my mum has made her angrier, hence why I gave up speaking, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the abuse.

When such a scenario is going on regardless, the site can only be a positive; when things are already at rock bottom, you only go up; when any form of coherent understanding at all can be conveyed, whatever it is, it’s a benefit, regardless of anything else.

Appearing in person and explaining in person never worked and only angered. There’s literally 0 other option. Continuing old tactics is not an option; doing nothing in response to their actions towards me is not an option.’

References

1. ^ Blackwelder, Aaron Christian (2013). "Association between dietary factors and malocclusion". University of Iowa. doi:10.17077/etd.roxs07hq.
2. ^ Alhammadi, Maged Sultan; Halboub, Esam; Fayed, Mona Salah; Labib, Amr; El-Saaidi, Chrestina (2018). "Global distribution of malocclusion traits: A systematic review". Dental Press Journal of Orthodontics. PubMed Central. 23 (6): 40.e1–40.e10. doi:10.1590/2177-6709.23.6.40.e1-10.onl. ISSN 2176-9451. PMC 6340198. PMID 30672991.
3. ^ "Orthodontics". Wikipedia. 2020-09-22.

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