Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless

[Copabanana]

I am tired and it is late so I do not know how I will get through all of these quotes after taking benadryl 20 min ago.

he is afraid out there.

Feeling, he was afraid in your house. Now he is afraid, but there is hope for him. You keep forgetting that.

But, sadly, most in the mental health field feel strongly that they quickly go downhill because of the stress.

He will be noticed. He will be hospitalized. He will receive treatment.

My biggest fear now is his committing suicide because his voices tell him to. This is a very real threat.

Yes. That is a real threat. But the statistics are not that high, as I recall.

The other possibility that he be hospitalized and treated, is of higher probability.

I worry now about him and I worried when he lived with us about his hurting my youngest son.

By worrying you have the illusion of control. It is illusory, only. On some level you must feel that if you stop worrying, you are falling down on the job.

It is impossible to let go of all of the worry.

So far, it has been difficult. It will get better when you let go of this false idea that you can control outcomes through worrying. The only effect is it is agonizing and wearing you out. It is not good for your health. Your children need you. You need you.

I will only see him if he is brought in or if he somehow gets help and gains insight.

Yes, now you are talking. This is the likeliest outcome. There are no guarantees for any of us. I feel in my gut this will happen. I hope so.

A time will come when you wear yourself out. You will realize that you control nothing, except yourself, at least to some degree.

You will come to a time when you realize that the possibility of hope and faith are there for all of us. Even you.

There is the hope that your son will find help and be able to accept it. There is the hope that all of our children will find their way. There is the faith that no matter what, with each other we will be able to respond with courage and grace and responsibility and love to what comes.

COPA

 

[Feeling Sad]

I am sorry.

Thank you, Copa. I want to control the worrying. I know that my health is going down the tubes.

I will try harder to keep hope in my heart.

You get an A+, or rather a 4, in Common Core terms....even with benadryl.

Thank you.

 

[New Leaf]

Feeling, thank you for your kindness in not taking offense at my writings. You are an amazing person who has lived through so many difficulties and have had to carry yourself for your lifetime, maintaining a facade of normalcy, while enveloped in a swirly whirly. Obviously you have a degree, as a SPED teacher, you went through intense schooling. What an achievement!

PERSERVERENCE is the description for you! Entangled within that word is tolerance. You have grown up in an impossible, incredibly stressful environment, your tolerance level must be way above average.
Otherwise, I do not think you would have survived.

Also, explore the possibility, in growing up with his ill brother, perhaps his tolerance level is too accepting of mistreatment?

In writing this, I was thinking of your son, but now, after reading your reply, it begs the question, are you too, tolerant of mistreatment? Is this a part of your make-up, because of what you grew up with? You had absolutely no control as a child, there was no way for you to fix what was happening.

I left out one very important piece. Yes, my son refused to get treatment. Yes, he was thus very dangerous.

But, his voices told him that if he went to the doctors, that he would die, or never come home, or be hurt.

Yes, your son is ill, he refused to go to the Doctors.
Somehow, you have learned to separate his ill self, from the son you remember before illness struck. I did the same with my daughters, it kept me deep within the game. I wonder if this has to do with over-tolerance, intense mother love? Now I realize I cannot separate my G-F-G's actions from my memories of them as children. They are one and the same. It is who they are now, and who they are now represents a danger to my sanity if I maintain a close relationship with them.

Could it also be that as children Feeling, growing up, we faced continuous rationalization from our parents, for our siblings sake? So now, we have learned to explain away unacceptable actions, to focus on the what was, not what is?

You were forced to accept, to tolerate the goings on, and then go off to the dance in your white gloves?

This is why he was attempting to kill me and was arguing with his voices over the command hallucination to kill me.

Tolerance. Rationalization.
Entangled in the swirly whirly of all of the "ifs and buts" is you Feeling, you as the little child having absolutely no control over what was happening in your household. How terrifying that must have been, to lay there at night hearing your sister talk with her voices, speaking of harming you.

Doctors. Not wanting to go to the doctors and my final insistence to go or move out...go or I would not go out places with him...go or I would give him less money each week.

I pushed for him to see a doctor because he was violent...He became more violent...I insisted more.

Rationalization Feeling, as if you are to blame for the finality of his leaving, being homeless, because you insisted he go to the Doctors, and that was what he most feared.

You were RIGHT Feeling, to insist he go to the Doctors.

You insisted, that is a good thing.

You broke out of that cage of your childhood, stood strong and SANG out loud, because you knew it was right, for you, your son, and your two sons.

Soon, the final act and the need for a restraining order.

You changed the old pattern of not having control, and you took control, and you did the right thing.
You broke through your tolerance level and sang loudly, ENOUGH, that is enough!

He lacks insight and does not know that he is sick. He believes his loud compelling voices.

Rationalizing.
Forgive me, but somehow I see that he does have insight.
He did not act out when the police came. He did not go catatonic, become violent. He complied.

My biggest fear now is his committing suicide because his voices tell him to. This is a very real threat. I worry now about him and I worried when he lived with us about his hurting my youngest son.

Fear and the whirly swirly.
The great teeter-totter of life. The on the one hand, then the other.

You are getting better Feeling. When you get better, your other two adult children will get better also.

It is impossible to let go of all of the worry.

But you need to Feeling, the worry does not do you, or anybody else, any good. Instead of worrying and thinking of all the negatives, hear Copa in her wisdom, and think of all the possibilities. While your son was home with you, your very lives are threatened, all of you, including his. Out there, he will be noticed. It is very possible that he will meet someone he trusts, someone who will encourage him to get help, and he will listen. I will pray for that.

I had to replace my worries with prayer. To fill up the empty space. If I have faith in my prayers, I am not trusting God if I am overcome with worry.

I am trying to have hope and think more positive. He will never call me or come home. I know him. I will only see him if he is brought in or if he somehow gets help and gains insight.

I am glad you are trying to be positive and have hope. When our G-F-G's are out there, mixed in with hope is our "awfulizing". It is because there is a pattern that we are aware of.

I have not heard from both of my G-F-G's. Right now, I consider it a good thing, it gives me time to think, to breathe, to heal.

If my daughters do not contact me, it is because they have not come to grips with their choices, accepting ownership of their decisions. If they do not call me or wish to see me, their mother, it is because they are not better, they are still blaming me for their choices. Yes, I made mistakes in parenting them, (no wire hanger scenes or scrubbing bathroom floors with comet in the wee morning hours.) We are all human, we all make mistakes.

I do not need constant blame throwing and attempted shaming. I will not wear their scarlet letter.

In the swirly whirly of my own, I lost myself. I need time to find me, to rebuild. I owe that to myself, my young son and my other adult children!

I hang onto hope and I am grateful that my youngest son was not hurt or killed. Or that my ill son does not have to live with the knowledge that he had committed such a deed. Those...are my 'positive' thoughts.

Yes Feeling-hope. Positive thoughts, all very important in healing.

You have broken out of the cage of your childhood tolerance and rationalizing to see things for what they are. You have taken control of the situation and made your home safe for you and your young son. You are showing all of your sons, that even though illness is involved, there are boundaries, it is unacceptable to live with threats and violence, no matter what the cause.

Now, to break out of the cage of worry.

Sing Feeling, keep singing, for even through your sorrowful melody, you are helping others to become strong, to face the patterns of childhood memories, mother instinct, to break free from the web of attachment.

As your voice lifts upward to the heavens above, the universe listens.

You are not alone, we are here.

You deserve to be free Feeling. After a lifetime of swirly whirly, you deserve to be free.

Leafy

 

[Feeling Sad]

Leafy, I just read your wonderful post. Thank you!

I saw my nice therapist today and she started to say that perhaps my youngest son is tolerating a lot from his girlfriend because...and I stopped her.

I told her that my good friend on line had already figured it out for me! She just smiled. I think that she was very impressed. Leafy, you beat my therapist to the punch! Just send my bill in the mail.

You are right I need to rebuild myself.

My favorite term was "swirly whirly". Perfect...just perfect. Great expression.

I loved your comparison to the caged bird. Those last lines brought tears to my eyes. Thank you. It makes me feel that I can handle things knowing you guys will rally.

I like the reference to the scarlet letter. Yes, I am trying not to feel guilty. I know I tried my best. The DNA aspect still makes me feel guilty...silly, I have no control over that at all.

I loved the red print. I did sing...but more out of a deep, past, primal fear...of dying. But 'sing' I did, never the less!!!

I still do not have air at school. The court case by the DA for my totaled car by the drunk son across the street was set for tomorrow. It has been postponed until December 3rd. He got off last time because he lied and said that he drank after the accident. Two jurors on the fence...now a retrial. It is horrible being in court.

Just lots of stress at work. Progress reports done...in my hot room and conferences next week. Students taking new district tests on the computer. Fun.

I just finished 2 classes last June to be top salary. The district just added a new 'top' a week ago. I have 60 units above my degree and credentials...now I need 75 units to be top pay. I still will go up in pay, but I will not be the top. That bugs me. But, I do not need more challenges right now.

I always get good grades, but now...I am tired. It bugs me. I felt good for about 3 months and they go and add another pay step. My two sons think that I should take the 5 needed classes. My mind is going....no.

I always felt like...yeah...bring it on! But, now, it just bugs me.

I like putting in the...

When my son let in the police in the house that day; 2 were outside in case he ran, 2 were outside of my ill son's room, out of sight, the mental health worker was talking to my ill son through the door, while the last officer was texting to my youngest son while he was going room to room across the house looking for weapons...In the hallway...In the front bedroom....no weapons.... My son said that it was funny. "He writes just like you!"

The nice therapist gave me some HOPEFUL news today. Yes ladies, HOPEFUL!!! She said that she was talking to someone who had worked at the shelter. She was told that they need to get help to be able to come there for showers, washing clothes, receiving mail, etc.

I hope that is true. I had talked with a man who was a retired cop who works helping the homeless in an outreach program. I had told him that my son went there...probably for showers. He said that the woman who ran it was excellent at getting people to get help. He seemed very confident of that fact.

I live in a small town, near larger ones. I feel better that the bank statements show that he is still near.

I do not think it is what the severe therapist had said, "Like a shark in bloody water".

But rather, as the nice therapist said, "He is staying near because he loves you".

'Chirp, chirp, chip", gleefully sang the bird to the Heavens.

Roar just didn't fit.

 

[Feeling Sad]

I have been told by therapists that I have too high of a tolerance. I felt 'helpless' because I was own my own without support against my violent schizophrenic sister when I was young. Yes, it was extremely scary to hear her all night long with her fiendish laughter, talking to her voices, and her threats to kill me. I am surprised that I ever got enough sleep.

I have also been told that my parents taught me to be a victim.

I candy striped, tutored, worked on a helpline, at a residential SPED school, and in conjunction with Protective Services on child neglect and abuse cases. I got into Psychology and then SPED because, I feel, my struggles growing up.

I am textbook. I am trying to 'fix' something similar as an adult that I could not 'fix' as a child.

I have always fought for the helpless, down-trodden, stimatized, and ignored indenties.

I remember, at a school carnival, how I won a prize. I had never won a prize. Do you know which stuffed animal I chose? The dirty, forgotten one in the back, on its side, that no one wanted. Why? It needed me. I was going to love it. Nobody else would.

That is why I married my first violent husband. I was going to love him and help him. It was like 'moth to the flame'. He had 11 of 14 criteria for being emotionally disturbed. I was taking a class at the time. Most people would have run for the hills. I, strangely, didn't. It felt familiar. It was 'ordained'. He was 'sent to me' so that I could help him.

I also have zero self-concept. Maybe, in the negatives. I can handle anything. I am willing to put up with almost anything. I was already numb. I did not feel fear. He started off nice, and then when it was too late, I was 'hooked'. He needed me.

I am like a sad loyal basset hound.

I think that motherly DNA guilt has made me feel very responsible. In addition, the fact that I have been applauded professionally on how I am able to quickly affect a positive change, both academically and behaviorally, in students. Both held me fast.

But, the biggest issue is that this is my third schizophrenic decline that I have observed...all were steady declines. I felt hopeless, powerless, and sad, but he was my son, and I was going to be there for him through it all.

With my ill son, he was fine until he was 23 or 24. It is difficult to reframe your viewpoint and expectations. I feel that I need to be there and suffer with him...it came from me.

My ill son's experience in one moment is much, much worse that mine over a month. He is having 'nightmares' while he is awake...all the time...every day. How can I complain about my occasional nightmare? Yes, I wake up screaming.

But, I WAKE up.

 

[Copabanana]

I remember, at a school carnival, how I won a prize. I had never won a prize. Do you know which stuffed animal I chose? The dirty, forgotten one in the back, on its side, that no one wanted. Why? It needed me. I was going to love it. Nobody else would.

You are not alone, here.

Did you think that was all you deserved,
Feeling or was it that you felt that animal represented you? Or was it that you wanted to save the forgotten, neglected one?

But, the biggest issue is that this is my third schizophrenic decline that I have observed...all were steady declines.

All of us are pretty much stuck with what our early lives taught us was our place and our role. Until we learn to understand what that is, and that we can learn to choose something else.

I would guess that is what most unites us on this forum, that when our children become troubled, we suffer that...and because we are driven back to our childhood...whatever and however it was.

There is the possibility of changing, once we know. Little by little.

I think I feel better, and then I fall back. Depressed.

I do not know if it is what I experienced the past few years...the losses and trauma or if it where those drove me...back to the affective state of being a child. Or both.

It sometimes feels I will never get better.

In my better moments I am grateful that I have the opportunity to work out those old pains...in worse moments I doubt if I am capable. And I fear that I will never regain my strength.

I think I must set a deadline for myself. If I have not gotten not only functional but forward thinking and moving--we want to go cross country--I will try to go back to work. Sooner rather than later.

Work will require that I function. Like it did you.

My ill son's experience in one moment is much, much worse that mine over a month. He is having 'nightmares' while he is awake...all the time...every day. How can I complain about my occasional nightmare? Yes, I wake up screaming.

But, I WAKE up.

The thing is, Feeling, if you suffer that is two people suffering badly. Your suffering does not one thing to improve his.

You are two different people. You know that.

You know the funeral pyres of widows in India who throw themselves in the fire after their husbands die?

Your impulse seems similar. You gain a great deal of meaning and self-esteem from your work. It seems to serve the values you learned as a child and built an identity upon.

If you feel there is an element of self-sacrifice you can decide to work on that.
There is time for you.

COPA

 

[Feeling Sad]

You will be great at whatever you chose.

Are you going to take a trip or work...or both?

Yes, my reserves are low, but the challenges of work do take your mind off of things for a while.

Yes, I feel better since working.

Yes, when I act 'happy' and 'normal', I actually can leave my depression for awhile.

Yes, I like to help others. In helping others, I feel better. I am still sad that I couldn't help my son.

I wish that I had a chance to take a vacation to recharge. My 6 days at hotels in town cost a lot. My son could not get off work or school. It is sometimes sadder to travel alone, than not travel at all. I am by myself most of the time when I am not working.

Which do you want to do first...travel or work? Where to you want to go and/or what type of work do you want to do ??

 

[Copabanana]

We want to go to the NYC Metro area. We wanted to go for the winter, to see if we could tolerate it.

We have been trying to go cross country for about 18 months. My state of mind has precluded it. I stay in bed, do not leave the house. Am sad. Isolate. I have not gotten the stamina yet to consider going.

Then we had obligations that came up with a property. That will take at least a month.

The idea of the NY area is primarily this: I danced Tango when I was in So. America. I loved it. That was 9 years ago. It was phenomenal for my body and spirit. I was really good.

I came back because of my son. He was not making it in school there and needed to graduate from High School. It was very difficult because we had to come back early because he accidentally broke my foot and I could no longer dance. We were arguing (I needed him to help me move and he did not want to) and he used a defensive martial arts move against me. It was a hard time.

I have always dreamed of resuming dancing. For 7 years I went back to Rio every 2 years to keep my residency. *We both became residents. I always expected to and wanted to return. When my mother died I did not have the energy to return and I let my residency lapse. M cannot travel outside of the country. After I met him I continued to go abroad every 2 years. It got to be less fun without him.

We are both from metropolitan areas. The area where I am does not suit me. I like movement on the street. I am a walker. I love cities with people on the street.

Besides the dancing there are other things I want to learn, to study, textiles, art, returning to playing bridge etc. that all will be much more readily available in a place like New York.

All of those things are what I want to do as I get older.

Where I live now was a small nearly all white city until about 30 years ago. My father's family came from here.

Then there began a huge influx of immigrants, from Asia and Mexico mainly. The Asians were largely Hmong and Mien refugees. Because there is a lot of agriculture here, the Mexicans originally came because of that and later brought their families. My SO, M, is Mexican.

I am neither fish nor foul. I fit nowhere, really, unless I begin to work here. If I do that it will preclude going to NY.

While there is small professional class (there is a major university here too) because I do not work I am not connected.

I lived here almost 20 years ago, too, for 3 years, but did not keep up contacts.

If I go to work now I would go back to work in a prison as a contract worker. Most likely I would have to go somewhere far away and stay in a motel. If M does not go with me it is very lonely. I wonder if in my state of mind now, I could really tolerate it.

I asked him (woke him up actually) if he would go with me. He said No. He wanted to go to sleep and leave him alone.

There is a prison nearby that is a possibility. But only one.

So, that is my story.

COPA

 

[Copabanana]

Feeling, there are vacations where you are with other people you do not know.

I had a friend who went on a walking tour with other women. She did not know them. She met them there. To Switzerland.

For a while now I have wanted to go to the John Campbell Folk School in North Carolina.

They teach folk arts and crafts. I have been wanting to learn to use a spinning wheel and weave on a loom. They have hundreds of courses in jewelry making, art, music, blacksmith arts, textile arts, etcetera.

They charge for the course and they charge for room and board.

Someplace like that? I would go alone.

I have gone on most of my vacations alone. While I did a lot of traveling with my son, when he got into his teens and got ornery, it was much harder to travel with him. I held myself back. That seems to be a pattern for me.

I felt guilty having a good time, when he was in a funk.

COPA

 

[Feeling Sad]

You will get better. You are stronger than you know.

If it helps, set a deafline. But, be kind to yourself.

Do whatever makes you feel better. I understand the nudge a deadline could provide. You like to challenge yourself, as well.

We are all wartorn...just on the inside.

I worry because I feel responsible. My genes did it to him. That is why I feel that I have to be there for him. It is my fault. Stupid. Yes. Logical. No. My fault? No. But, I cannot stop...

I am getting better though, and so are you. You are stronger than I am.

Anything you decide to do, you will excel in. You have passion and conviction in your feelings.

As a mother, I also feel responsible. I stayed with my first husband way too long.

I worry about my other two sons getting schizophrenia. My eldest sister started in her 50's. It runs very strongly in my family. My paternal great uncle lived by Angel's Flight in L.A. in the 30's and when he was about 30 he committed suicide. It runs very deeply.

I told my friend about my two schizophrenic sisters once. I asked her, jokingly, to let me know if I go crazy. She said, "I will. But you won't believe me!"

I have royalty on 3 sides. I think of 'insantity' caused by inbreeding. My ill son has hemophilia...The disease of royalty.

My fault? No. But, I still feel badly about it. I love my ancestry, just not the lousy genes.

My son's issues are not in anymore control of mine than your adoptive son's issues are in yours. We both had no control, no choices, we love them, and we are trying to be strong in the face of their illnesses...strong for them and for ourselves. We are both great moms.

We will all make it.

 

[Feeling Sad]

What a fascinating life you have led. Wow! You are so lucky.

I bet you were a great dancer. That must of been very difficult for you that your foot was injured that way. I am very sorry that happened to you.

You sound very creative and artistic. You have a lot of talents. Do what your heart leads you to do. Your passions and interests will lift you up out of the depths to start to heal you!

It sounds like it is the big city for you!

I love the line...I like the movement of the street. You are a dancer and an artist!

Follow your dreams.

 

[New Leaf]

Leafy, I just read your wonderful post. Thank you!

I saw my nice therapist today and she started to say that perhaps my youngest son is tolerating a lot from his girlfriend because...and I stopped her.

I told her that my good friend on line had already figured it out for me! She just smiled. I think that she was very impressed. Leafy, you beat my therapist to the punch! Just send my bill in the mail.

Feeling, no bill, as I write and read here, I am receiving therapy myself.
and yes, we all need to rebuild ourselves.

The human mind is an incredible mystery, I do think that our childhoods and our family roles and definitions play a powerful part in how we live our adult lives. Amazing to think that what we experience from 0-4 shapes an enormous part of our brains, and now research suggests we go through something similar in our teens, and even into our late twenties. In my fifties, I dare say we go through a metamorphosis, again? But who dare peer into the minds of menopausal women?

It is no wonder we have made mistakes in our own chosen relationships. The more I think and read here, the more I am convinced that we are destined to repeat familiar patterns until we learn to break free of them.

This is the swirly whirly.

It is intense work. It is ingrained in our psyche, into our very being. I suppose the experiences we have that undo us, are meant to reveal the patterning, lurking, hiding in the crags of our minds, in our deepy dark areas that we have walled up to protect ourselves.

We are made to lay our traumas out on the proverbial old oak desk like exhibit a,b,c in a courtroom and examine them. The trouble is, we are in this courtroom as a one man act- becoming defense lawyer, prosecutor, judge, jury, audience, all at once.

We do this, while at the same time living out our lives, old memories and new experiences intertwined.

It is the great circle of life.

It becomes a swirly whirly, when we hold on to the patterns that have harmed us, as if we have to continue to relive them, as if we somehow must have deserved, and still deserve to be harmed.

I think it is because in our childhood, we learned that it is our place.

My sister cannot bear to hear of my memories of her bullying, because that is her place. I stepped out of my "place" even to speak it.

My childhood traumas are trivial in comparison to what others have spoken of here. But they are real, they are my swirly whirly, and it is amazing how a song, a place, a memory can swiftly suck me in through the whirlwind of it back to my child self.

It is like an ocean riptide that grabs and pulls, lulled by the enveloping salty sea, at first not even realized, then as the shore becomes ever distant....the only escape is to swim with all of our might across it, not against it, across it.

Examining, examining, examining, what has happened to us in the past, but not allowing it to pull us all the way back, forcing us to relive it.

I have done that, relived the bullying by subconsciously putting myself into situations where I will be bullied. That is allowing the swirly whirly, the riptide, the patterning to overtake my life.

It is time to sit on the shore and sift the sun warmed sands through my fingers, gaze out into the sea of my past, studying, looking with understanding and knowledge, noticing natures signs, where the currents are leading so that I may avoid the riptide. Maybe even saying; "Today is not the day for a swim."

I am not saying that I will not be going down memory lane anymore. I am saying I will not allow memory lane to continue to direct/control my life now.

I need to recognize my swirly whirly and break free from it.

Feeling, Copa and Cedar, I hope you are all doing well today.

The sky is dark here in the still hours of the morning, soft rain patters upon tropical leaves. The hour grows late and I need to ready myself for work.

I am thankful to all of your for sharing your stories and friendship across the vast cyber world. I must say that I am in awe of the correspondence, caring and kindness that transpires through these writings.

Anonymity has its merits, but somehow, I feel I am beginning to know you all.

I celebrate your wit and intelligence and have learned much from each of you.

The roosters are now crowing, signaling my need to make haste.

Good day to each of you, may God comfort and guide us all into becoming our best selves.

Leafy

'Chirp, chirp, chip", gleefully sang the bird to the Heavens.

 

[Copabanana]

I worry because I feel responsible. My genes did it to him.

This is the crux of the matter.

If you had to do it over again would you have borne no children?

The thing is, even if now at 62 you would make another decision (or not), who you were and the choice to be a Mom was one you made based upon your life to that point. You were so young.

I have written before that I believe that until age 30 or so we have no choice but to be what we have as if been programmed to be in our life before. Our brains (combined with experience) have not yet reached their full maturity...to reflect and to choose another way to be apart from that which we came to be based upon our early experience. Whether it was our experience in our families or by cultural norms.

We were who we were made to be. Until we really get a grasp of things. For me, I think I am only getting that grasp now. I am well over 60.

As a mother, I also feel responsible. I stayed with my first husband way too long.

You were programmed to take responsibility. Then it seems you built an identity around it. You decided to choose it. Run with it. Make it who you are. That is a good thing. The thing is, for your own welfare, it cannot be stereotypical. It sometimes needs to be challenged. It can be your default but there needs to be some oversight, some administrative function that decides that it is too much. That is what you are doing now. Working that out. But doing that goes against your default position.

I worry about my other two sons getting schizophrenia.

Now, that is scary.

The thing is, they are men now. Let them do their own worrying. It is back to detachment parenting on recovering enabler's posts.

It was not "your gene." It was transmitted to you through through generations of nobility. You are equally a victim. Let it go.

I am in the same boat. I know both of my son's birth parents were diagnosed with mental illness. I had assumed it was secondary to drugs. Do I know that? No.

Sometimes I fear that my son has or is developing a psychosis.

I have royalty on 3 sides. I think of 'insantity' caused by inbreeding. My ill son has hemophilia...The disease of royalty.

So much of this, Feeling, was already written before you were even born. I mean,not only the genetic predisposition but the inbred tendency on how to respond as a family. Hiding it. Denial. Taking responsibility.

My son's issues are not in anymore control of mine than your adoptive son's issues are in yours.

That is correct. We are both dealing with choices that we made that were made of the heart. We yearned to be mothers. I cannot imagine my life if I had not decide to adopt. I hate to even go there in my mind what I would have become. I think I would have become one of those cat ladies with 150 cats, who never leaves the house or something equally batty.

I had a great love to give. You did too. We are living the fruits of that love.

 

[Copabanana]

Thank you Feeling. Yes, I was a wonderful dancer. I got to near professional level in Tango. I am so happy when I dance. I begin to smile involuntarily

Yes, I am artistic. When I do Art I lose myself in bliss. I enter almost a meditative state. When I am doing art I feel as if nothing touches me, the focus is so great.

It is clear what I should do. It is just getting to the place where I can do it.

It is like my son and his "baldness" which does not exist. For him that is the reason he cannot do anything or go places, like school. But if you say, well get a hair transplant. He says, "I can cure it with my shampoo or diet." He does not accept a solution because he needs his "baldness." It is a hideout. A refuge. A reason. A place to put his anxiety, his fear, whatever. An excuse.

In a way he is correct. The reality of the situation is the pain. Nothing else. Until there is no longer a need for it.

We hang onto suffering sometimes.

 

[Copabanana]

After I wrote that last post and stepped away a bit, I realize I am doing the same thing as you are. Just a variation.

I think I will not allow myself to be better, to have more as long as my son will not do so for himself. A continuing self-sacrifice, a calculus determined by what my does or does not do.

I went to Buenos Aires to tango for the first time when my son went to Brasil for the first time. He was 14 years old. We were living at the time in Guatemala. We flew to Miami where he joined his Capoiera group that had flown from SF. He went to Rio, Sao Paolo and Salvador Bahia. He loves it still that he was able to travel "alone" so young. Actually, he was well-supervised by the Mestre and all of the other participants who were adults. He had already taught himself portuguese. He learned in 3 weeks. He has a love of languages.

His second language was Spanish, then Portuguese. He was later to teach himself basic Latin, Italian and some French.

So back to my story. He went to Brasil. I went to Buenos Aires. I had a marvelous time.

All of the other times I went to Buenos Aires with my son, I did not have a good time. Because he did not. I model his attitude towards things and limit myself accordingly.

So, now I am wondering if the same thing is happening. As long as he denies himself a decent life, I will hold my breath and do so myself.

I wonder if what I fear is leaving him here and going so far away.

In order to have an adult life at all I felt I had to separate myself completely from each of my parents. Thus I realize my default is towards self-sacrifice, due to the built-in proclivity to always hold myself back to not eclipse the other. Since I was a child I did this with my mother, and later my sister.

I could separate from my birth family. I cannot from my son. I will not.

The question is this: will I allow myself to live a normal life, as long as I perceive he is suffering?

The same question you are posing to yourself, Feeling.

 

[Copabanana]

You guys. Feeling, New Leaf, Cedar, and everybody, I am going to post a thread on FOO. Look for me if you would.

COPA

 

[Copabanana]

I do think that our childhoods and our family roles and definitions play a powerful part in how we live our adult lives.

Me, too.

I am convinced that we are destined to repeat familiar patterns until we learn to break free of them.

Yes.

as if we somehow must have deserved, and still deserve to be harmed.

Yes.

I have done that, relived the bullying by subconsciously putting myself into situations where I will be bullied. That is allowing the swirly whirly, the riptide, the patterning to overtake my life.

Yes. That is what they call the compulsion to repeat, until there is mastery. We strive to master what has once overtaken us.

But the thing is, the most likely thing to occur is that we go under again. And still, we do it again, until we succeed or we catch on.

There comes a day when even when we have caught on that there is danger we must re-approach the danger, like you did with your Mother, New Leaf.

You must have known the risks re-entering the family system with your siblings but because of love and responsibility, you did so.

You met the challenge head-on and you created a new ending. You stood up to your sister and brother and you saw that all along you were the strong one.

With our children we cannot leave these riptides. Because of our love and responsibility we stay in the dangerous depths. It is wearing and anxiety provoking to live in this space, robbing us of our serenity and our sense of security. What next, will come?

Staying in this state is itself reminiscent of our lives as children. Constant danger. Limited control to define ourselves. Betrayals. Loneliness and fear.

I am saying I will not allow memory lane to continue to direct/control my life now.

I would rather be in danger myself than to fear for my child.

It is hard to have and be, when your child is in danger. And there is no one to help him or her. Or oneself.

 

[Feeling Sad]

We are hitting the very depths and recesses of the impetus of our despair.

I do not feel that I have a right to enjoy life; laugh, smile, have fun, travel...live if he is suffering.

I am not suicidal, nor will I ever be. But, I am complacent in my own life. I do not get rest, I do not take walks, I do not go to the doctor. It is more than just being 'on hold'...

My therapist asked me why I am doing...or rather...not doing these things.

I am taking a very active role in not being proactive.

I do not feel that I should. It is wrong. I cannot enjoy my life, knowing, yes knowing, that he is suffeting.

He is homeless. He is probably scared. He is psychotic, replete with delusions and auditory hallucinations.

I feel guilty in my bed. I feel guilty in my house. He lives in his beat up car.

It goes beyond motherhood. How can any human being with a scrap of human kindness not feel for their suffering?

To feel fear is pretty new to me. I would numb out. To feel despair is pretty new to me. I would numb out.

Nothing going on here. Everything is hunky dorry. Sadness. Ditto. Hopeless. Ditto.

I got up each day and did what I had to do. I was one of 'walking dead'. I was numb.

After I went through my violent 12 3/4 years of marriage to my first husband, I could not cry. He was worse if I cried. I did not want to give him the satisfaction.

So, I turned off the spigot. Voilà. No more tears! Nothing going on here. Everything is just fine.

The problem is...that I could not cry. I was not able to anymore. I was now broken. I really don't remember crying much when I was younger going through threats from my schizophrenic sister. Why? It would not help. I had to be strong to 'be on my toes' and survive.

I am realizing that since I was 11, I just bucked up'. I was so very strong. I never sought help. No need to because I could handle it.

My first husband was older and a Vietnam vet. I found out later that he was violent growing up...a sociopath. I found out later that when he was a teen that he kicked his dog until he coughed up blood.

He was my first boyfriend...first everything.

He started off wonderful...in retrospect, too wonderful. Then I was knocked off of the pedastal, both figuratively and literally. I thought, "I did something to mess it up. I am going to fix it so it can go back the way it was".

I moved in with him after he had back surgery to nurse him back to health. I had my brother tell my mom when she returned from seeing our relatives back East. I was too afraid to tell her myself.

He started to be more violent.

I told him one night that I wanted to be loved. I wanted him to love me.

He took it to mean...made love to. I became pregnant. I used protection, but not enough.

He became more violent. He shoved me hard, very hard down on the bed. He ripped my shirt and kept screaming at me.

I left and moved back home.

His best friend called me and said that he committed himself to a mental hospital because of the stress. He wanted me to come and discuss our options with the therapist there.

I went and he said that he wanted me to have an abortion. I said that I couldn't because I had known him for four years. It was not wrong...just wrong for me. I said that he would never have to see me or the child and that I would never expect any support. I remember running out of the room and down the stairwell. He caught up with me and hugged me.

A few weeks later, he went back home and I moved back in.

My friend, who is now a pediatrician told me to get an abortion. In fact, she made an appointment for me.

A few months earlier, I had found a bottle of thoriazine in the drawer. My sister was on it for schizophrenia. He had said that it was for "his heart". I knew that he was lying. In retrospect, it was probably for a breakdown from PTSD from the war.

My friend said that with my family history and his medications, that my son would be schizophrenic. She told me over 35 years ago that my baby would be schizophrenic.

I do not regret not having the abortion. I went through months of my ex saying that he "was not lucky enough" for me to miscarry.

I wanted to leave. I was just done with school. I wanted to move to San Diego and start teaching and raise the baby on my own.

But, I was a 'good' girl from Sherman Oaks. I got married 2 weeks before he was born. My ex would not let either family be present.

His best friend was their at a cheap chapel. I looked like a hippo in drag. I wore ecru. I didn't think that I could 'pull off' white.

After the sad wedding, all 3 of us went out for Chinese. His friend had a problem holding his fork. I was fresh out of a class that covered illnesses, deficits, anomalies, etc. I knew that transitory motor impairment could be a sign of impending stroke, embolism, or aneurysm. I told him that he needed to see a doctor immediately. He said that his hand was 'stiff' because he was wrapping fishing rods all day in his shop. I told him again and he asked how I was doing.

A few days later, in his shop, he said,"Oh, my God", grabbed his head and fell down to the ground. He had an embolism. He was biologically dead on Monday and legally dead on Wednesday. His funeral was Sunday. I gave birth one floor up in the same hospital on Monday.

I found out from his mother, that he had always loved me.

I was abused while I was pregnant. Studies show that there is a greater possibility of schizophrenia if the mother is abused in her pregnancy.

My ill son was never physically abused, but was emotionally abused which us much, much worse. It was 99% directed towards me, but he witnessed some of it.

When a child is exposed to abuse, there is a greater possibility of schizophrenia.

Yes, I know that I stayed because I felt helpless. I had already in place astute abilities of numbing out. I went back to my parents with my sons a few times. I said that he had a 'violent temper". My mother would always send me back and say to keep the boys quieter, keep the house cleaner, and put on a 'fresh face' before he came home.

So, as you can clearly see, I have very valid reasons to blame myself and feel guilty for his illness.

Yes, we are held in a cycle, forced to repeat familiar trauma, until we find a way to master it and break free...

 

[Copabanana]

Feeling, you are being very, very hard on yourself.

How well I understand.

I am in this same place:

I am taking a very active role in not being proactive.

There are a lot of quotes. I will go one by one. I have not yet taken Benadryl

It goes beyond motherhood. How can any human being with a scrap of human kindness not feel for their suffering?

Of course I understand this.

There are many kind people in the world. I am one of them. I worked in a helping profession. Many of my patients were paranoid schizophrenic. I was very, very kind.

You cannot be the one responsible for your son any longer. You know all of the reasons. You would be if you could. You cannot.

There will be a time when you can trust. Trust that there will be the possibility that your son can accept help.

There is no other way.

There has to be a letting go. Not from your son. That will never, ever happen, or should it.

There is a letting go that has to happen between your sense of responsibility and his destiny.

I know how hard this is. I feel a version of it with my own son.

I feel this happening little by little. I believe it will happen for you.

We will never, ever stop having hope. Ever. Nor should anybody ever try to persuade us to do so. Like the psychiatrist did with me and the mean therapist with you. The psychiatrist told me: When is it a bad thing to face reality?

Of course, he was correct in a general sort of way. But reality shifts. Reality is awfully hard to pin down. Reality for you is different than reality for me.

I do not know what I think about these people, except they do not work for me.

So, as you can clearly see, I have very valid reasons to blame myself and feel guilty for his illness.

I do not see this at all. I can see that you blame yourself and I can see you feel guilty for his illness. I cannot see reasons for blame.

I thought, "I did something to mess it up. I am going to fix it so it can go back the way it was".

Believe me, even 35 years or more older than you were at this time, I do the same thing in my own relationship. While I do not tolerate abuse, I do sometimes take responsibility for mending a break. I believe I am not alone.

We have learned that there is a cycle of abuse. Self-blame and taking responsibility, and a honeymoon period are part of the cycle.

But these things are present in relationships that are not abusive.

The thing is: You were young. You thought you were in love. You had no experience of the world and little experience with men. You had an abusive childhood. Yes. Abusive. Nobody was there for you, after your sister became ill. You were in an impossible situation. Nobody helped you.

How could you have any more expectations of life, than you did?

I am realizing that since I was 11, I just bucked up'. I was so very strong. I never sought help. No need to because I could handle it.

Yes. I forgot this. Your self-concept was one of surviving. Anything. You would not allow yourself an out. Anything that comes. I have to handle. End of story. No off ramps here. Especially, if the man is vulnerable and damaged. *Like the dirty, bedraggled animal you won.

You had learned your lessons well in your childhood. Take responsibility and deal with it.

My friend, who is now a pediatrician told me to get an abortion. In fact, she made an appointment for me.

She was wrong.

She may have known the risk to you and your baby, but how can anybody influence somebody to make this kind of choice?

I know women tortured by having abortions. (Look at Sarah Palin and so many other women who bear children they know have Downs Syndrome. Actually M had a brother with Downs Syndrome. Manuel. He was beloved by his siblings. M cries when he speaks of him. I ask him, why? Because I love him so much. I miss him. Why did you love him so much? Because of the way he was. Stupid questions, I know, but I wanted to understand.)

I know women tortured by giving up a child up for adoption.

There is no right choice. It depends on the person involved.

My friend said that with my family history and his medications, that my son would be schizophrenic. She told me over 35 years ago that my baby would be schizophrenic.

She had no right to tell you that. She could not know. There was a probability. She could not know for sure.

Who can tell a person to abort their baby?

Even now if you go back in time would you have had an abortion? Think about it.

But, I was a 'good' girl from Sherman Oaks. I got married 2 weeks before he was born.

So, big deal. Nobody had to spend big bucks for a wedding. You were ahead of your time. He loved you. You may have loved him. You were programmed to buck up. There was a baby on the way.

Again, do you really think you could have had an abortion?

How many women do you know that are still with their first husband? People get themselves into messes. They marry the wrong people. That is why more than half of all marriages end in divorce.

Once I was in a training. It was about domestic abuse. Most of the audience were women. Everybody was acting like only other women were the ones that allowed themselves to be abused. That pissed me off. I asked the group. How many of you have been hit by men? 3/4 of them raised their hands. How many of you have been raped? 2/3. I raised my hand to both.

Stop acting like you are the only one who has made mistakes. You chose. You chose based upon the only criteria you knew at the time. In that you are no different than any other woman. Or man.

His funeral was Sunday. I gave birth one floor up in the same hospital on Monday.

Well, that is dramatic. But what does that have to do with you or your marriage? It was a coincidence that your best man or witness dropped dead. It is theatrical. I must say. But do you think that that too is your fault and responsibility?

I found out from his mother, that he had always loved me.

I believe you must have known this. He might not have said it.

I did not ask the group of women in the training how many of them had been with men who were crazy. I wish I had so that I could throw that at you too. I have. I was with a man when I was a young woman very like your ex-husband. He had a female Doberman. Her name was Lucille. He would throw her against the wall and kick her against the wall until she was bloody. Once we were driving home from Vegas. I was driving. He punched me in the head. I left him. I could act all superior but he used to treat me like he did the dog.

I did not know any better. My step-father had done the same thing. I had to learn. I did.

I was abused while I was pregnant. Studies show that there is a greater possibility of schizophrenia if the mother is abused in her pregnancy.

Again, what were you going to do? You were unwilling to abort.

Even if you had been open to it, you were not cognizant of the studies at that time.

It is just like what you do to yourself around the police, which culminated in your son leaving. You act as if people going through life have a map or a geiger counter, or an angel to guide them. Nobody does. People bump into walls. Everybody does. Nobody does it right. How could you be the only perfect one? Is that what you expect of yourself?

My ill son was never physically abused, but was emotionally abused which us much, much worse. It was 99% directed towards me, but he witnessed some of it.

This is not your fault. You believed in marriage. You were trying to figure out. Eventually you did.

Is there any child's life that is without stress of one sort or another? Remember that child that was born with the genetic disease I think it was in Tx in the 60's and they put him in a bubble? You get my point.

When a child is exposed to abuse, there is a greater possibility of schizophrenia.

Again, what were you supposed to do. You did not create the strife. You did not cause it. You did not know your son carried the gene. Even if you had, how can you control other people? How is that you are responsible for everything? Is anybody in your life responsible? Or is your job to carry blame and responsibility for everything? When will it be enough?

 

[Copabanana]

Feeling, I am going to turn off the light and go to sleep. M just covered his head. I need to catch a clue.

Try to have a better night. It would make me feel good. Thank you.

COPA