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"The Ineligible People" I am sure I used to consider myself ineligible from writing such a story about the topic of Family. A sad state of affairs you may conclude, correctly, but let me assure you that this short story has both light and dark, despair and hope.

 Nowhere I looked were other families recognisably like mine; all of them seemed so warm, so shiny, so active, perfect and well adjusted.
 So Together.
 So Normal.
 Sure, there’s the thing about “people put on fronts” and “it’s not always as it seems”, but, that all looked a heck of a lot more tempting than mine.
 You see the thing about my family, and my parents, is that they’re DEFINITELY human. Flawed. And I do not just mean my Mother or Father likes to go and lose 100 dollars at the pokies once a month, no.

 I’m sure like “most” (all) I didn’t get the “choose the ideal family for you” document to fill out before my…um…conception. There were issues of all kinds in my immediate family, and beyond, as temporarily and chaotically as my parents were together, I was made from their…perhaps somewhat desperate, union.
 I have learned that my parents, like me, are of course oddballs.
 Talented, I believe strange to some, aloof, emotional and at least a little haunted.
 My family was and is in many ways very typical. 
Too typical in some cases.
 I am increasingly learning empathy for my parents from reflecting upon how they were themselves raised.
 Among quite a few positive stories are ones of quite less positive treatment, attitudes and behaviours.
 I really want my parents to know that they weren’t wrong, as children, to be subjected to such punishments, behaviours and, to be frank in some situations, elements of contempt, carelessness and even cruelty.
 And if not exactly carelessness and cruelty, fallout from their own parents being confused and merely human people, also flawed and seeking something.
 Not everyone succeeds in life, that’s a fact, some people settle and live out long lives of mediocrity and resentment, confused at how they let it slip through their perhaps too eagerly grasping fingers.
 Do I judge the parents of my parents too harshly? 
I do not think so. 
Nor do I blame them either for merely being human.
 At least not so much any more.

 It has been very hard to enact empathy, reason and compassion for my family.
 Their dedication and support to each other has been questionable.
 Judgement and detachment have been present.
 But don’t get me wrong, there are many happy memories also; riding in the maw of a tractor in Palmwoods as a young child, the open blue sky and massive rolling green planes of hills all about me, and details of my Grandfathers house there, still very vivid in my memory, despite my very early age.
 Many happy memories in Mebbin kayaking with my father in lusciously green creeks, his industrious construction of water efficient and ecologically friendly buildings for the lovely Human inhabitants there.
 Crossing that very high and rickety pedestrian only bridge across that same creek.
 The time I fell and my legs went through that cattle-grate bridge, less happy, but then my father carried me quite a distance to safety so I could receive some probably minor medical treatment. 
I was positively incessant that we stop, any time I saw them, at the sugarcane fields on our journey to…”borrow” a few cheeky stalks for me (and my half-sister, and I think perhaps later on my half-brother too) to munch on.
 Given my fathers general disposition he did extremely well considering the near constant nature of those demands.
 Playing among many streams in Maleny, the somewhat regular journeys down to the creek at the back of our, my Mother’s, property to check on the water pump.
 A whole watermelon hidden away in the rocks and covered with a cloth, if I remember at all correctly. So many hours getting absolutely covered in sand in the sand pit there, the specific toys I played with also, the wooden horse and carriage particularly.
 The time we, someone, lopped that large tree down on our property, watching it topple down, and being told so many times to stay back.
 Being grossed out by people de-shelling and eating prawns, most likely around Christmas.
 These are the crystalline pure years and memories I have. 

To put it lightly the many years since were not always quite so magical and awe inspiring, though there must be some experiences of that sprinkled amongst the… rest. 
I have been diagnosed with, at least significant elements of, ASD and CPTSD (Autism Spectrum Disorder, Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
 Cannabis has helped me greatly in overcoming and combating some very significant issues in relation to my…special brain chemistry and “interesting” past experiences.
 Mindfulness, less stress and issues with eating amongst them. 
I do not even use Cannabis any more, as I much prefer jogging, conversing, doing things with people, my parents, creating things, writing and the like.
 Cannabis - once an illegal escape and my pretty sole solace from so much chaos, isolation and confusion - is now too intense for me. 
And you may observe that I’m not exactly Plain Jane as it is, I would much rather put my existential dread, ponderings and effort into writing and the other things I have previously mentioned.

 After much distance from my parents and the other members of my family over the years, I am finally finding, now at thirty-three (my “Jesus Year”) years of age, stillness, calm, empathy and enough self presence to see my parents more for what they actually are.
 I have helped my father build a fence at his property, a task I would have previously in my awkward, timid and insecure years thought of and found much too challenging to attempt.
 It was a task that would have taken “the Old Dog” (lovingly) much-much longer without my fastidious and dedicated assistance. 
I am starting to reconnect, or connect rather, to other members of my family too, my loving and to my previous mind “quite too conventional” Aunt and Uncle.
 It can be difficult to identify with and approve of such healthy, active and balanced people when one does not exactly feel much at all like that oneself.

 So, Dear Reader, please-please-please DO have hope.

 Whatever your situation, your family, your experiences, light and dark, keep trying, for your “poor” self, and family, so-so human that they, and we too, are.

 If that is too much to suggest, I hope you have the time, peace and prosperity to help you come to some form of closure for yourself, if not also them.
 The road is not always easy.
 I do hope you can have the presence and self confidence to ask for what you need to make it through - even if that thing (in the case of Marijuana anyway) is considered at some time illegal by the somewhat naive public populi and those profiting from its illegality, and now stigmatised - so you too can see the beautiful and awe inspiring sights this wee life has to, and should, offer us all.

 Go With God, or like, whatever.


 Affectionately,

 Reuben Bristed.

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