06/23/2026
๐๐ค๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ค ๐พ๐ค๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐๐ฉ ๐๐๐ฉ๐ ๐๐ค๐ช๐ง ๐๐๐ง๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐จ
I had never heard of this 'no contact' thing until recently, but I probably should have made that decision a very long time ago - like back in 1979 when I graduated high school. I actually wanted to be close to my family throughout my entire life, but my parents wanted little to do with me once I graduated high school.
I was so lost that I ran away from home at 17 and hitchhiked across the country, but after being gone for four days neither parent called the police to report me missing. I was simply an inconvenience to them. Unfortunately, I spent about 20 years of my life wondering why my father hated me, and then another 20 years wondering why my mother didn't care for me.
It's weird, though, because I had four siblings and each of them had an adult relationship with at least one of my parents. Neither of my parents wanted much to do with me, and that also put a strain on my relationship with my siblings. My father was never proud of me, and always viewed me as a failure, telling me I'd never amount to anything.
He basically stopped talking to me shortly after I graduated - he never once reached out to me as an adult. He simply had zero interest in my life. My mother only wanted to talk to me when she wanted something from me, but when the need was no longer there, she would blow me off. Holidays, she invited my brother, but never invited me.
Once, after I hadn't seen her for over two years, I was in town on business and just a few blocks away. Not wanting to do the four hour drive home on a Friday evening, I called to stop by for a visit. She gave me her usual excuse, and said, "We're just sitting down for dinner and don't have enough food, so maybe some other time."
I never really got to experience a close family as a child, and as an adult I might as well have been someone else's kid. As a young adult in the 1980s, it was just weird to ignore your parents, and for them to ignore you. But I spent my entire adult life envying friends who were close to their parents; even though many of them sort of adopted me, it wasn't the same.
I spent the last 20 years of my life wondering what I did that was so wrong; then after both of my parents passed away, I realized it's probably because I'm autistic - which I found out 3 years ago at age 62. The sad thing is, as much as they despised me, I never hated them for pushing me away. I think deep down inside I wanted to go away forever, but in my heart I always had hope.
I am talking with one brother lately, of the rest of my siblings, one passed in 2012, and the other two are so toxic that I suffered a couple of heart attacks being caught in the middle of their rituals. Of course, they blamed me for their misery. I'm now the oldest, and the most alone. Even though I know it's not really my fault, I still - and always will feel defective.
