The One That Was Left Behind (Part 2)
Now for my story. Originally I wasn’t going to write the who and the what, and while I will not disclose some personal information this next chapter of the blog is going to become quite personal. Before continuing, please understand that I do not write this for sympathy, I do not need ‘fixing’, and should we spend time together we can confer about this section should you desire the conversation taking that route. Providing we do not re-create a ‘Good Luck To You Leo Grande’ scene. I have done my healing and as I have come to learn this sort of scenario is all too common, which is part why I will openly speak about it.
Most of you would be familiar with the term ghosting. Have you ever been ghosted by your entire ‘friendship group’? Better yet have you ever been ghosted by your entire ‘friendship group’ two birthdays in a row?
Are you the black sheep of the family? Are you so black that you can’t even walk into the house you grew up in to have a cup of coffee or tea?
Back when I was a roof plumber, certified dickhead, piss head and eighteen I had what I thought were a good group of mates. We would go out most weekends, crash back at theirs, go through the week with our work and repeat. We always had a good laugh; we had great banter; and got up to mischief. Though there were always some underlining behaviours that I saw where I was the outcast of the group. I would be the last to find out about things, at the clubs they would group off when picking up girls, and occasionally would try to throw me under the bus to impress girls they were picking up. When I would inquire about why I wasn’t invited to events they would say things like, “We knew you had training”, or “You were playing footy”, or “You would have to drive too far”. While some of you may say that this was them being ‘good friends’, from my now mature perspective and other friendship experiences that was not why. Most of them had moved from the same city to Brisbane and so they had their affinities. Though they constantly talked about each other behind their backs, and while they would bring some of these affairs to the surface, nothing would ever change the contentious cycle continued.
It was my twentieth birthday, and I wanted to plan something really cool. Paintball, some other activity, watch AFL at the Gabba, Hotel for the weekend, Party. Made a group chat. Not one single person responded. They all saw the message but did not respond. I put out another message a few days/ week later because I needed numbers, and they told me they had to save for Touch Base – a music festival that was a few weeks after my birthday. Unfortunately, I could not go because I am banned from that rendezvous for 32 years counting.
Looking back at the reasoning of having to save for a music festival was pathetic. Considering after the game that my girlfriend at the time & I attended, we met with the group out at the valley and partied relatively hard, with them doing more partying in the following weekends. Great saving!
Later that year I was working away for roofing, and was meant to be receiving a huge amount of weekly pay. When I arrived at the temporary home away from home and asked about the pay, I found out that I was going to be underpaid five-hundred to one-thousand dollars a week. When you ask the boss, “If we can speak about pay” and the boss responds, “How much did I tell you, you were going to be paid?” you know you’re in for a great conversation. Had I been given that extra pay, I was going to pay for all my mates festival tickets and the accommodation to party down at Ultra Music Festival Melbourne the following year. Thank God I was not paid the amount I was promised and decided to pack up from the middle of Australia to head home early. My twenty-first birthday wasn’t the worst birthday in the world, though I think not celebrating and just chalking it up as another day would have been better. Have you seen The Simpsons episode where Lisa is singing Happy Birthday by herself?
For my twenty-first birthday my parents were willing to pay for any accommodation on the Gold Coast, plus football tickets – Lions vs Suns. Booze, food and activities were all our responsibility to buy. Again I made the group chat, and again they all left it on seen. After a range of other horrible experiences, that was the nail in the coffin. That night before going to sleep I opened the group chat to see every single person that was invited had seen the message and not one person had replied. Some of these people lived together. I went to sleep with tears running down my face that night. That hurt, and that was a big punch to the gut. I don’t really want to discuss what happened for my birthday for multiple reasons; part my responsibility, and I feel that it would paint me as ungrateful considering what other people close to me experienced for their birthdays. But the entire weekend of my twenty-first birthday felt like the scene of The Simpsons where Lisa is singing happy birthday to herself.
Being abandoned by friends’ sucks. But being abandoned by family makes you question why you weren’t swallowed.
I want to start by saying I am extremely grateful for the childhood I received, the fact that I received what I received makes me question if I should think about the situation the way I do. There are children who do not know what a childhood is; they are raped, abused, grow up in poverty, neglected from birth, or are born into wealthy families but NEVER experience any type of family structure. With this broader world view guilt has travelled with me through this process of abandonment. Different shoes, same place.
I was put through private schooling. Played AFL competitively for 10 years, with new football boots and ball every year. My parents would take me to games every week. I Travelled to Melbourne for football camps. Have travelled most of Australia, with one international cruise. Mum did a couple of school assignments for me when I chose to neglect them. I had leniency when I started going to parties, and was always told to call if I needed them, regardless of the time. They were anti-dope so when I was detained for possession of two joints by the police at sixteen and had to go in for questioning, my parents grounded me. I have copped a couple smacks over my time – never beaten. I had always been told I could achieve whatever I wanted to achieve if I worked hard enough. So much positive to look at from my childhood, so much that I intend to give to my children when I have my own.
But at some point, that all changed.
During my adolescence my mother had a huge falling out with another sibling of mine - It’s been over well ten years since they have spoken. And at the time I didn’t realise what was happening, but now clearly see what abandonment looks like and how it can affect someone mentally. This sibling was outcasted so bad that they would call or send a “happy birthday”, “Merry Christmas”, “Happy Easter”, message with great wishes to my mum, and I would be given her phone, and asked to answer the phone or check if I knew the number. Looking on my phone I would see who it was and inform mum who would nonchalantly reply “oh okay, you can reply”, or “tell them that I’m busy”. At first I didn’t quite get it, I believe I just pretended to be mum, though I eventually started saying it was from me and that she would get back to them – obviously that never happened. Now with the inside view I know for a fact that my mum would not be like this over nothing. Even my sibling owned up to me about saying some horrible things too. When my mum and I last had a good relationship, I even told her how the sibling had admitted to their wrong doings and that they would love to rekindle and start rebuilding the relationship. “Oh well, to bad” were my mums’ words.
Rince & repeat with me. *Warning this may be a little discursive.
There is one sibling that ties into all of this. They are a spoilt, narcissistic, lazy, leeching, good for nothing, worthless piece of shit – there is no polite way to put it. I won’t disclose how many siblings I have, but every single one of us hate this sibling. They have single handedly torn apart the entire family. Imagine being thirty-five, no career, no job, have a child that you can’t look after, being the definition of mental health, drinks alcohol like there is no tomorrow, smokes more weed than a chimney, and living back at your parents’ house for 10 years! Never their fault, always because of someone else, something else, or it’s too hard, or it’s this, it’s that. For this reason, I believe that mental health is sometimes a joke!
Now being the empath that I am I can look at some of the scenarios that have happened to this leech and think damn, that sucks, you’re also lucky to still be here, or yeah your father abandoned you. But the empathy itself is not there, and we will not talk about sympathy. I’ve seen people with similar incidents go on to do great things and become good people.
