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From bad to worse...much, much worse.
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 656668" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>No.</p><p></p><p>But I did finally leap into the words and actions of detachment parenting. Seat of my pants thing, again. It was the one thing I could not make myself do. I could only see myself in the positions of either of my children, with no one to help me and no one to love me or believe in me. And so, I couldn't do detachment parenting. But then, one day, someone posted in with an update.</p><p></p><p>And for some reason, this one time, I could hear her.</p><p></p><p>So, I said: NO MONEY</p><p></p><p>I said: I read what you posted and I read it again and I don't like what you said. I don't remember the words I used. Part of me still can't believe I did it, I suppose. SWOT had been posting articles for us on verbally abusive adult children. And suddenly, one day about three months into denying that could ever happen to me, I realized it <em>was </em>happening to me. </p><p></p><p>So, whatever I said, I stood up to my son about it and came here and posted about what I had done immediately. And so, when the guilt hit, I had everyone here to stand me up.</p><p></p><p>To back me up.</p><p></p><p>To tell me I had done the right and ethical thing. What they were really telling me Copa? Is that I had not turned into my abusive mother. I have been so committed, all of my life, to not being my mother it isn't even funny.</p><p></p><p>So, that was a pretty big hurdle. My son called me a jerk. You believe it?!?</p><p></p><p>Yes he did.</p><p></p><p>So, once I stood up to that, I just kept on standing up.</p><p></p><p>Any day now, I will be removing my training wheels.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>It is neither right nor wrong. It just is.</p><p></p><p>Honor that, Copa. You did not raise your son to be who he is today. How offensive it is to me too, to see where my adult children have taken both those babies I birthed and nursed and built my life around! </p><p></p><p>I felt this way, too: Whatever I did, I was wrong because it hadn't worked. So then, I had that thing going on about not being able to make sense of things correctly because of the way I was brought up. </p><p></p><p>So, I broke, Copa.</p><p></p><p>But I never did stop trying.</p><p></p><p>Now that I get the theory behind detachment parenting, I am holding pretty strong.</p><p></p><p>But we are not our mothers, Copa. I was stronger when these things first began happening. Over time though, I lost a belief in my own efficacy. It was like, if I knew what to do, if I were bright enough to make a difference for any of us, we would already be better. But things just kept getting unbelievably worse. Soon enough, I had no strength and I had no plan and I had nothing.</p><p></p><p>Nothing.</p><p></p><p>And things kept getting worse.</p><p></p><p>I asked the strangest people for advice. I was so desperate that I believed people I would not have had coffee with, in my previous life. (I know, I know. Bad Cedar.)</p><p></p><p>And there was that therapist.</p><p></p><p>I began seeing him because someone recommended him for my daughter. Thank heaven she would never, ever show up at any therapy appointment we ever set for her, so she never showed up to see him, either.</p><p></p><p>Where was I going with this.</p><p></p><p>No. I never stopped believing. I know there are those who say that is possible. I say we can believe <em>but not hate ourselves when it fails.</em></p><p></p><p>That is the balancing act, as I see it.</p><p></p><p>Between believing our best is very good, believing the battle is a hard thing, and believing in ourselves and choosing love for ourselves, even if things get worse.</p><p></p><p>And even if things get better. Keep breathing. Let go. I am trying really hard not to say anything. No advice without a direct request unless it is something I know about, like choosing to cherish always being the right thing.</p><p></p><p>Well, I mean to my kids. Here on the site, not so good with that yet.</p><p></p><p>But every post I write clarifies things for me, too.</p><p></p><p>So if I ever develop a Buddah-like silence, we will all know I finally made it.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>He is sick right now, Copa. He is doing and saying and thinking the most outrageously hate filled things. We have to remember that is the illness or the addiction ~ or both. </p><p></p><p>Believe in yourself and your child.</p><p></p><p>Stand up for yourself. This is going to sound a little mean. Dealing with someone who is addicted is a little like training a really mean dog. You know the dog is mean. Nonetheless, that is your dog. There are certain things he cannot do. One of them is: he cannot go to the bathroom on you or your belongings or your people that you love. </p><p></p><p>Nor does he get to bite you.</p><p></p><p>Nor can he steal your food.</p><p></p><p>So, here is some more weirdness I have never posted, before. You know Cesar the Dog Whisperer? Well, he says: What does he say. Something about the attitude needs to be calm / dominant.</p><p></p><p>That helped me.</p><p></p><p>I was watching Cesar every time he came on and I took some of his books out of the library too, when I was learning how to stand up to our son.</p><p></p><p>Works for me.</p><p></p><p>There are no atheists in foxholes. I try to be responsible to myself and my family and wherever that good advice comes from? I am just grateful to have it.</p><p></p><p>That calm dominant thing worked well for the imagery I needed to talk to my son. I would be so darn excited if he called, I would forget myself.</p><p></p><p>Calm/dominant.</p><p></p><p>Easy to remember.</p><p></p><p>I am really happy that I know that.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 656668, member: 17461"] No. But I did finally leap into the words and actions of detachment parenting. Seat of my pants thing, again. It was the one thing I could not make myself do. I could only see myself in the positions of either of my children, with no one to help me and no one to love me or believe in me. And so, I couldn't do detachment parenting. But then, one day, someone posted in with an update. And for some reason, this one time, I could hear her. So, I said: NO MONEY I said: I read what you posted and I read it again and I don't like what you said. I don't remember the words I used. Part of me still can't believe I did it, I suppose. SWOT had been posting articles for us on verbally abusive adult children. And suddenly, one day about three months into denying that could ever happen to me, I realized it [I]was [/I]happening to me. So, whatever I said, I stood up to my son about it and came here and posted about what I had done immediately. And so, when the guilt hit, I had everyone here to stand me up. To back me up. To tell me I had done the right and ethical thing. What they were really telling me Copa? Is that I had not turned into my abusive mother. I have been so committed, all of my life, to not being my mother it isn't even funny. So, that was a pretty big hurdle. My son called me a jerk. You believe it?!? Yes he did. So, once I stood up to that, I just kept on standing up. Any day now, I will be removing my training wheels. :O) It is neither right nor wrong. It just is. Honor that, Copa. You did not raise your son to be who he is today. How offensive it is to me too, to see where my adult children have taken both those babies I birthed and nursed and built my life around! I felt this way, too: Whatever I did, I was wrong because it hadn't worked. So then, I had that thing going on about not being able to make sense of things correctly because of the way I was brought up. So, I broke, Copa. But I never did stop trying. Now that I get the theory behind detachment parenting, I am holding pretty strong. But we are not our mothers, Copa. I was stronger when these things first began happening. Over time though, I lost a belief in my own efficacy. It was like, if I knew what to do, if I were bright enough to make a difference for any of us, we would already be better. But things just kept getting unbelievably worse. Soon enough, I had no strength and I had no plan and I had nothing. Nothing. And things kept getting worse. I asked the strangest people for advice. I was so desperate that I believed people I would not have had coffee with, in my previous life. (I know, I know. Bad Cedar.) And there was that therapist. I began seeing him because someone recommended him for my daughter. Thank heaven she would never, ever show up at any therapy appointment we ever set for her, so she never showed up to see him, either. Where was I going with this. No. I never stopped believing. I know there are those who say that is possible. I say we can believe [I]but not hate ourselves when it fails.[/I] That is the balancing act, as I see it. Between believing our best is very good, believing the battle is a hard thing, and believing in ourselves and choosing love for ourselves, even if things get worse. And even if things get better. Keep breathing. Let go. I am trying really hard not to say anything. No advice without a direct request unless it is something I know about, like choosing to cherish always being the right thing. Well, I mean to my kids. Here on the site, not so good with that yet. But every post I write clarifies things for me, too. So if I ever develop a Buddah-like silence, we will all know I finally made it. He is sick right now, Copa. He is doing and saying and thinking the most outrageously hate filled things. We have to remember that is the illness or the addiction ~ or both. Believe in yourself and your child. Stand up for yourself. This is going to sound a little mean. Dealing with someone who is addicted is a little like training a really mean dog. You know the dog is mean. Nonetheless, that is your dog. There are certain things he cannot do. One of them is: he cannot go to the bathroom on you or your belongings or your people that you love. Nor does he get to bite you. Nor can he steal your food. So, here is some more weirdness I have never posted, before. You know Cesar the Dog Whisperer? Well, he says: What does he say. Something about the attitude needs to be calm / dominant. That helped me. I was watching Cesar every time he came on and I took some of his books out of the library too, when I was learning how to stand up to our son. Works for me. There are no atheists in foxholes. I try to be responsible to myself and my family and wherever that good advice comes from? I am just grateful to have it. That calm dominant thing worked well for the imagery I needed to talk to my son. I would be so darn excited if he called, I would forget myself. Calm/dominant. Easy to remember. I am really happy that I know that. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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