My parents tear
down, find fault (disguising it as "just worried"), as do my father in law and sister in law.
Yes. My brother is helpful to me, too. Your comment, Strength, brought up my sister's behavior just after difficult child daughter's beating. Poor difficult child, her judgment affected by the beating, was posting about all of it on FB. Pics, too. Though I had already had the second run in with my sister and was persona non grata with a bullet, my sister FB me, wanting to know how difficult child was. I posted back: "What is it you want to know." Quick as a wink, she posted back, "Nothing. I already know."
?
My mother? I never heard from, at all.
But, just like I posted somewhere else, I had everything I needed to incorporate what had happened to difficult child, and to heal, from this site, from all of you.
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I think ("Oh, brother!" MWM says. "Not what Cedar thinks, again!")
Heh.
I think that, having established boundaries with our children, something in us requires that we "expect to be respected" in our other relationships, too. We don't buy into the excuses as readily and when we do, we are excruciatingly aware of it. It bothers and bothers us until eventually, something happens and we choose not to ignore it. I remember Recovering posting that this new strength of hers affected even her professional life.
My point is that, as I think through what my intentions are for my family of origin, I don't think I need to think too much more about any of it except to have that key phrase husband gave me ("I told you what I expected."), and to forgive myself around that whole issue of trying to ~ I don't know. Trying to find a better way for me, for my family, I suppose, and failing.
It turns out that was such a big piece for me.
I never even knew it was there. But, just as I felt guilty for what happened to my kids, I felt guilty that the "fixing" (or standing, or loving them anyway ~ whatever it is that we call that caretaking role) I try to do in my family of origin never fixed either me or them.
husband gave me that one, too.
Know what happened when he said that? When, during another marathon session about what to do about my family of origin, he said, "Forgive yourself."
I started to cry.
That's how deeply buried, and how intense, those feelings of guilt were.
I
never cry. Maybe a little eye moisture. Maybe, with everything that's happened with the kids, that kind of rageful crying you do in private.
One time, when we believed difficult child daughter was going into organ failure, I could not seem to stop that kind of crying where you aren't really crying, but you can't seem to make your eyes stop getting wet. That happened RIGHT IN PUBLIC.
I even posted about it.
But I did cry, when husband said that I needed to forgive myself.
And I never even saw it coming.
When husband said to forgive myself? All at once, I could see then, that I had been brave. That I had been generous. That I had, to the best of my ability to do that anyway, chosen to hold an intention to love instead of giving in to the blind defensiveness of hate or anger to build myself up, to protect myself from the hurt of it. I could feel how bone tired I was, from standing up like that. (A codicil: It may be that the others just don't see what is happening, and I do. So, it would be my responsibility to hold a good intention and blah, blah, blah.)
If you are the caretaker type, you may have that same tiredness, you may hold those same judgments against yourself of having failed to help, of having been able to change nothing.
Forgive yourself.
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After whatever it was that happened around forgiving myself, I began (and I am still seeing) to see a different interpretation of the things that somehow always keep happening, in my family of origin. That is why I keep coming back to this thread. Posting here as I have has opened secret places where I harbored the hurt of it, has opened secret places where I never let myself see what it was for what it was. But you know, after a flash or three of blazing anger? What I feel is compassion. Like me, they are doing the best they know to survive what has happened to all of us.
Recovering described it to me once as a feeling of having been raised like a litter of puppies where the mother has only one nipple, only one place where the nourishment we all needed to live could be found. Somehow, even as adults, we are all still trying to get that nourishment we need to survive.
That made such perfect sense to me.
How can any of us be faulted, for trying to patch ourselves together out of the hurt of it, out of the scarcity, in whatever way works, for us?
So...what I am working toward here is that it isn't about them. It is about me, it is about trusting my interpretations of what is happening between all of us.
And it is about understanding that, even if we all are starving, expecting respect is a correct stance.
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I let myself see the nastiness in the games my family had set up around my typical responses to them, to their meanness or craziness, after the forgiveness episode. It was like I knew it? But I didn't let myself have a feeling about it.
Now, I do.
Here is one: So, my sister told me that, since my father's death, she and my mother have come up with a phrase they use whenever they do not know how to look at a thing. The phrase was, "What would Cedar do?" And then, my sister said, they would laugh and laugh and laugh. (For those who aren't aware of it, there is a phrase: "What would Jesus do?") Do you see the sickness there, the determination to find common ground on which to exclude and make me look foolish?
And the deal would be cinched, of course, when my sister made me aware of the private joke she and my mother shared, about me.
Laughter can be an acceptable cover for hostility, of course. It (laughter) can be the anesthetic used before someone duck pecks us. If everyone is laughing, no one is being hurt, right?
That is why it is important to remember the duck pecking analogy, if your family of origin is dysfunctional.
My sister laughs, alot.
My mother is outright mean, and makes no bones about it.
Ha! I'm still scared to death of my mother, a little bit.
So, for those of us who are caretakers, for any of us who felt responsible for what happened to our kids...forgive yourselves. You need to be able to access that strength, that passion and compassion, for yourself and your own family, now.
It isn't even like standing up to anyone, anymore.
It feels more like clarity of vision. And like we say here on the site about our relationships to our self destructive kids...once you see it, you cannot unsee it.
Cedar