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Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 742639" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>You will have a great time. You always do.</p><p></p><p>I feel pain for your friend going blind. Will insurance not now reimburse her for her upgrades to the house and all of her contents and her home itself? And now she is spared all of the work. I am not trivializing the pain. But these events that wipe out all of the stuff to which I cling, is it destruction or is it liberation? I am struggling with the burden of "stuff."</p><p></p><p>The trials that have visited us in California. Like plagues. Fires and massacres. And private suffering. Who knows what to think? What to feel?</p><p></p><p>I am glad you have your trip, Feeling. Tomorrow I should see my son. We are meeting in a City maybe an hour from me, and two from where he has been homeless.</p><p></p><p>It is four months since I have seen him. His living in the property I own had become intolerable for me. He invested nothing in making it work. I had to absorb all of the responsibility. I had to take all that he dished out. It was all of it, accommodating to him, to his interests, to what he wanted and needed. It was a dictatorship and I was the oppressed.</p><p></p><p>I could not walk away from this reality, at the end. And I had to fight my way out of it. He resisted leaving. There were cops, multiple times. I came to experience him as somebody of whom I was afraid.</p><p></p><p>But expelling him was not an answer for me. Oh. How I suffered. And him, homeless these four months. So. We are in conversation about how he could come back, with this outcome in no way certain.</p><p></p><p>Me, defining what is my absolute bottom line. Me, trying to find ways to put the responsibility in him,(how does one do that?) in an ongoing way, so that it is not just empty words, momentary promises, he uses as keys to the kingdom, the comforts and the support I can provide.</p><p></p><p>So I am trying to look at this as just this: the resuming of conversation between us. Only that. And that I will have to tolerate this--because maybe this is all that it can be, for now.</p><p></p><p>I am beginning to be anxious. It is easier to text; less easy to talk; harder still to anticipate seeing him, the person he has become. Every month, every year, farther away from the child I raised. Disheveled. Haunted. Disorganized. Tangential. Stuck.</p><p></p><p>How do I not bring into myself all of this in the form of pain, or denial? How can I let him be, let him be himself, without making it into a tragic story about me? It is hard.</p><p></p><p>Enjoy your trip, feeling. Be safe. I cannot wait to hear about it when you return. Be well.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 742639, member: 18958"] You will have a great time. You always do. I feel pain for your friend going blind. Will insurance not now reimburse her for her upgrades to the house and all of her contents and her home itself? And now she is spared all of the work. I am not trivializing the pain. But these events that wipe out all of the stuff to which I cling, is it destruction or is it liberation? I am struggling with the burden of "stuff." The trials that have visited us in California. Like plagues. Fires and massacres. And private suffering. Who knows what to think? What to feel? I am glad you have your trip, Feeling. Tomorrow I should see my son. We are meeting in a City maybe an hour from me, and two from where he has been homeless. It is four months since I have seen him. His living in the property I own had become intolerable for me. He invested nothing in making it work. I had to absorb all of the responsibility. I had to take all that he dished out. It was all of it, accommodating to him, to his interests, to what he wanted and needed. It was a dictatorship and I was the oppressed. I could not walk away from this reality, at the end. And I had to fight my way out of it. He resisted leaving. There were cops, multiple times. I came to experience him as somebody of whom I was afraid. But expelling him was not an answer for me. Oh. How I suffered. And him, homeless these four months. So. We are in conversation about how he could come back, with this outcome in no way certain. Me, defining what is my absolute bottom line. Me, trying to find ways to put the responsibility in him,(how does one do that?) in an ongoing way, so that it is not just empty words, momentary promises, he uses as keys to the kingdom, the comforts and the support I can provide. So I am trying to look at this as just this: the resuming of conversation between us. Only that. And that I will have to tolerate this--because maybe this is all that it can be, for now. I am beginning to be anxious. It is easier to text; less easy to talk; harder still to anticipate seeing him, the person he has become. Every month, every year, farther away from the child I raised. Disheveled. Haunted. Disorganized. Tangential. Stuck. How do I not bring into myself all of this in the form of pain, or denial? How can I let him be, let him be himself, without making it into a tragic story about me? It is hard. Enjoy your trip, feeling. Be safe. I cannot wait to hear about it when you return. Be well. [/QUOTE]
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