2 December 2016:
Mormon.org suggested that today, we honour our parents like the Saviour did. One suggestion pertained to finding an ancestor and tell the person’s story on social media, but I’m afraid that sitting researching ancestors, takes more than one day. Besides, you do not really learn anything about your ancestor, when you find out birth, death and wedding date. As a professional genealogist, I can testify to that in order to find out anything really “valuable”, you have years of research in front of you, if you at the same time are running the daily life of a family. But that said, it is very important for all people to know where they come from, in order to know where they are going. And I love doing family history.
Today, I chose another task instead or challenge. Just like yesterday. Do not know entire how it will bring light in to the world, but one of the suggestions were, to share on social media, what positive characteristic you have inherited from your parents. Unfortunately, I can not come up with anything from my mum. We have always been like night and day, me wondering if she really is my mother. She has always told me what a rotten apple I am, what a waste of space I have always been, and that I have inherited all my characteristics, which she deemed all of the bad kind, from my dad’s side of the family. Today, she sits in a dementia home, and behaves worse than my son, who has ADHD. Totally hyper, totally full with ants in her pants, doing crazy things, insulting people and you can’t explain anything to her, or tell her what to do, like you can to a child, who is learning. Since I have been told that I have my father’s characteristics and personality, then I will turn to him, instead.
I guess it is up to everyone’s individual opinion, if a characteristic is to be called positive or negative. So, I have decided to not include the border line characteristics, which could be called negative ones, by some. I think that for those of you who follow my blog, you have already noticed one of them: Perfectionism. In my posts about my dollhouse, you will see exactly how hard I am on myself and it all comes down to my beloved father, who was the same way! Who knows if my little “Gubby’s” perfectionism is all autism or if it is genes as well? (see yesterday’s post) But I do know that MY perfectionism bothers most people!
No, the characteristic, which I am most proud of, which I have inherited from him, is my hunger for knowledge. He was amazing. In the days of his youth, a boy from the working class or should I say farm hand class, were not allowed to go to school more than seven years. But he was a bright boy and would have loved to have gone on to higher learning. Instead he became a baker’s apprentice. But he had dreams. His deepest one was to become a police officer, which never came about, if one does not count him being a military police, in the army. What I saw, when I grew up, was a man who was eager to learn new things. He sat and studied English all by himself, via books and old-fashioned tapes. He learned a lot of things by trial and error or by thinking long and hard about how to do things. Creating things, in order to improve our living standards and our surroundings.
My 16-year-old is a holy nightmare and has been for some time. BUP (Child & Youth Psychiatry) declared that she has developed psychological disease, because my husband and myself do not have the time to let her be a teenager, us being too busy with her three younger autistic brothers. That is an outright lie! A psychologist can not ascertain during a 30 minute visit, how much time my husband spends with our daughter (her not wanting to spend any time with me)), or how much time we give her. And some teenage behaviour, just can not be tolerated by me, since I do not deem it as teenage behaviour. Which ever, she has declared that I know nothing. My University education is good for nothing, since it is outdated. I know nothing about autism or ADHD, nor does the psychologists and speech therapists etc. according to her. She has declared that her brothers have nothing else but a poor upbringing to blame, for their bad behaviour. I have informed this child of mine, who is barely scraping by in school and who I’m afraid, has somewhat of a low intelligence, compared to others, that I do nothing but educate myself on a daily basis. I am up to date with everything that interests me and fascinates me, like politics, history, literature, psychology, religion, and most of all autism and ADHD, because without learning something new all the time, I do not feel life is worth living really. I have sat at several courses for the two disabilities in question, in order to give my sons the very best care and understanding. What has been her answer to that? That I am a parasite and am wasting my time on reading, when I should be doing house chores instead. It is very offensive! But, the hunger for knowledge inherited from my father, has given me a mind which soak up things like a sponge. I must have more all the time, since it is like an addiction and new areas of interest are constantly added to the old ones. Like my latest interest in architecture and why houses were built-in such and such way. And like the other day, when I spent an entire day, learning about bricks! Most fascinating!
My father created a lot of enemies during his life. Because he was always honest. He believed in honesty and to stand up for what one believes in. He was opinionated like it seems the Malmqvist family has been in general. And this is a trait I have also inherited from him. Nature or Nurture? Don’t know? But in my opinion, this is a positive characteristics, because if we do not take a stand, what are we? Wet noodles.
Another characteristic I have inherited from him, is to always do what one has promised to do, to the best of one’s ability. I would not dream of dropping out of something I have been asked to make or do. Nor did he. He instilled an enormous work ethic in me and that everyone must be able to trust you. I can not stand to let anyone down! That would feel like a big failure.
Unfortunately, my father had an accident when I was eleven years old and it left him without speech, with epilepsy seizures and with severe depression. He ended his life when I had just turned 14 years old. Something which I will never get over. I loved him so dearly, with both his good and bad characteristics. At the same time, it did not take very long for me to understand why he could not remain on this Earth. My anger subsided and understanding took its place. He was never a quitter, but when he did not feel like himself anymore and could not do any of all the things he used to be able to do, he just could not go on. (My mother of course also did her bit, to make him feel awful about himself, harping on him, since he no longer was the man she had fallen for.) Today, I honour his memory, because he was my hero, with lots of flaws, but thanks to him, I exist! Love you pappa!