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He was fired today
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 624855" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>I have such a hard time with it too, Daze. It goes against the grain of what it is to be a mother. Then, one day after posting here like mad, I could begin to see that after such a long time of helping, my children and I were in this place where I knew them, not as the strong, capable people I had raised them to be...but as people who were going to mess up. What happened, I wondered, to those dreams I had for them and for myself? What happened to the way I looked at and believed in them, once?</p><p></p><p>How had I become the person who would fix it, who would commiserate with them, who would believe for them when they were so far from where they were meant to be in life?</p><p></p><p>How had that happened?</p><p></p><p>It wasn't until I got it Daze, that maybe part of why we got where we got to had to do with my fixing, had to do with my believing they were better than what they were doing instead of letting them see and feel the pain of what they were doing. </p><p></p><p>It was so easy to fix everything, to dish out the money, to pronounce the stern warnings and dire consequences. </p><p></p><p>Another piece of the detachment picture is that, somewhere during those years, I began to resent having to fix it. I began, in my most secret heart, to resent the fear of everyday life with kids who routinely did things I found shocking and shaming and pointless. MWM did a post a few months back about abusive adult kids. It so bothered me to read that post! I would go back and back Daze, to read MWM's post.</p><p></p><p>And then, one day, I could hear the abuse in the way my own son interacted with me. Once I could see it? It was clear as day. I dealt with it appropriately. But the point here is that I had lost so much respect for my own child, for my own son, that I allowed/encouraged the bullying, the verbally abusive behaviors. I turned my own son into someone with so little respect for himself that he routinely verbally abused his own mother.</p><p></p><p>There were others of us posting about both verbal and physical abuse from our kids, at that time. More than one of us had been hospitalized as a result of things that happened with her grown child.</p><p></p><p>And I realized these were moms like me, Daze. Moms who had done too much for their children without demanding respect ~ respect for themselves and, more importantly, self respect from their grown man children.</p><p></p><p>Who could respect himself if he didn't love and respect and hold his own mother in a high place?</p><p></p><p>I began to feel like I was trapped in a Willy Wonka segment. All those spoiled children, coddled and destroyed by their own loving parents.</p><p></p><p>At the same time, there were other moms here who were giving detachment serious thought. They reported small changes in the natures of the interactions with their troubled kids...but things were getting better, for them and for their kids.</p><p></p><p>Over time, I am coming to see so clearly that, for me, a big piece of this puzzle has to do with being too kind, too understanding, too lenient, too forgiving, too willing to leap in...making my child someone who is believed, by his own mother, to be capable of nothing more than messing up. Being disrespectful, taking drugs, quitting school? No problem. Mom can fix that. Somewhere in all this, the reward system became one of being rewarded for problems. Not for his strength or resilience or courage or accomplishments. Was there a little mommy fix for me in that system? </p><p></p><p>Yes.</p><p></p><p>I wonder whether our abusive adult kids come to resent us as they do because they sense that the patterns we've set up are destroying them. </p><p></p><p>But it is so easy to take the money.</p><p></p><p>And if the story is good enough, if the situation is bad enough...there is always money.</p><p></p><p>So...the stories get worse. The situations get more and more dire. By the time we finally see what is really happening, not just to us, but to those beautiful, perfect children we pictured such stellar futures for, the only way out is to say what we see. And what we really see is that our children, however far we have taken them down the enabler's path, are strong, independent, capable people who have everything they need to take control of their lives.</p><p></p><p>But it's so easy to give the money, to fall into the old patterns, to complain the old complaints.</p><p></p><p>To me, it seems that I am addicted too, in a way. I am a little addicted to being the savior, a little addicted to being better than the addict.</p><p></p><p>Maybe, a little addicted to being the martyr, the perfect mom who just has had such a terrible thing happen to her because her kids turned out to be poops of one variety or another.</p><p></p><p>So, that is what I look at and work with every day, here on the site. How do I become strong enough to stop with the money, already? How do I learn to change the emotional tone of my interactions with my children from the ever-understanding, supposedly "perfect" mom to the kinds of interactions that will give my children back their independence?</p><p></p><p>I didn't know.</p><p></p><p>So, I just started to say that.</p><p></p><p>You are not a beggar. I want you strong. I want you independent. I don't know what will happen next, but I know you will be fine. </p><p></p><p>Things like that.</p><p></p><p>I would post like mad about it, because it felt so wrong.</p><p></p><p>But you know what, Daze?</p><p></p><p>It's working.</p><p></p><p>Maybe this is true only for me, only for the dynamic I somehow set up in my family. Each of us will know her own situation. But Daze, I could not see my part in this for the life of me.</p><p></p><p>Healing involved, for me, realizing that I was viewing my kids as poor, inept little beings who needed me. They do not need me. They are strong, scary smart, healthy individuals who are living their lives the way they want to. I need to let them do that. That means they will have to experience the consequences of their actions. </p><p></p><p>It would have been easier for them if I had let them experience their consequences when they first began going a wrong way.</p><p></p><p>The consequences are pretty stiff, now. </p><p></p><p>But you know, Daze?</p><p></p><p>They are doing just fine.</p><p></p><p>I am doing much better, am taking a look at other areas in my life where I should have stood up and demanded better.</p><p></p><p>It is good, to believe in our strength. It is good to refuse to be a victim.</p><p></p><p>Somewhere along the line, I allowed the problems to become who we all were.</p><p></p><p>Well, that's what happened to me.</p><p></p><p>The healthier I become Daze, the more my outlook changes, the more clearly I see where and how this all got started. I don't even waste a minute feeling guilty about it. I am intent, determined, certain this is what needs to happen next for all of us.</p><p></p><p>You are here with us now, Daze. I think the first healing thing for me was realizing how similar our stories are. It takes time to see differently, Daze. But it will happen. Your solution, your detachment, may look different than mine. The most valuable change I made was to say: You are not a beggar. You are strong enough. I want you independent and strong. I don't want you to have to depend on your parents for anything. You are strong enough.</p><p></p><p>That was the beginning, for me. Even when I didn't believe it, I said it.</p><p></p><p>Things are better for us, Daze.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 624855, member: 17461"] I have such a hard time with it too, Daze. It goes against the grain of what it is to be a mother. Then, one day after posting here like mad, I could begin to see that after such a long time of helping, my children and I were in this place where I knew them, not as the strong, capable people I had raised them to be...but as people who were going to mess up. What happened, I wondered, to those dreams I had for them and for myself? What happened to the way I looked at and believed in them, once? How had I become the person who would fix it, who would commiserate with them, who would believe for them when they were so far from where they were meant to be in life? How had that happened? It wasn't until I got it Daze, that maybe part of why we got where we got to had to do with my fixing, had to do with my believing they were better than what they were doing instead of letting them see and feel the pain of what they were doing. It was so easy to fix everything, to dish out the money, to pronounce the stern warnings and dire consequences. Another piece of the detachment picture is that, somewhere during those years, I began to resent having to fix it. I began, in my most secret heart, to resent the fear of everyday life with kids who routinely did things I found shocking and shaming and pointless. MWM did a post a few months back about abusive adult kids. It so bothered me to read that post! I would go back and back Daze, to read MWM's post. And then, one day, I could hear the abuse in the way my own son interacted with me. Once I could see it? It was clear as day. I dealt with it appropriately. But the point here is that I had lost so much respect for my own child, for my own son, that I allowed/encouraged the bullying, the verbally abusive behaviors. I turned my own son into someone with so little respect for himself that he routinely verbally abused his own mother. There were others of us posting about both verbal and physical abuse from our kids, at that time. More than one of us had been hospitalized as a result of things that happened with her grown child. And I realized these were moms like me, Daze. Moms who had done too much for their children without demanding respect ~ respect for themselves and, more importantly, self respect from their grown man children. Who could respect himself if he didn't love and respect and hold his own mother in a high place? I began to feel like I was trapped in a Willy Wonka segment. All those spoiled children, coddled and destroyed by their own loving parents. At the same time, there were other moms here who were giving detachment serious thought. They reported small changes in the natures of the interactions with their troubled kids...but things were getting better, for them and for their kids. Over time, I am coming to see so clearly that, for me, a big piece of this puzzle has to do with being too kind, too understanding, too lenient, too forgiving, too willing to leap in...making my child someone who is believed, by his own mother, to be capable of nothing more than messing up. Being disrespectful, taking drugs, quitting school? No problem. Mom can fix that. Somewhere in all this, the reward system became one of being rewarded for problems. Not for his strength or resilience or courage or accomplishments. Was there a little mommy fix for me in that system? Yes. I wonder whether our abusive adult kids come to resent us as they do because they sense that the patterns we've set up are destroying them. But it is so easy to take the money. And if the story is good enough, if the situation is bad enough...there is always money. So...the stories get worse. The situations get more and more dire. By the time we finally see what is really happening, not just to us, but to those beautiful, perfect children we pictured such stellar futures for, the only way out is to say what we see. And what we really see is that our children, however far we have taken them down the enabler's path, are strong, independent, capable people who have everything they need to take control of their lives. But it's so easy to give the money, to fall into the old patterns, to complain the old complaints. To me, it seems that I am addicted too, in a way. I am a little addicted to being the savior, a little addicted to being better than the addict. Maybe, a little addicted to being the martyr, the perfect mom who just has had such a terrible thing happen to her because her kids turned out to be poops of one variety or another. So, that is what I look at and work with every day, here on the site. How do I become strong enough to stop with the money, already? How do I learn to change the emotional tone of my interactions with my children from the ever-understanding, supposedly "perfect" mom to the kinds of interactions that will give my children back their independence? I didn't know. So, I just started to say that. You are not a beggar. I want you strong. I want you independent. I don't know what will happen next, but I know you will be fine. Things like that. I would post like mad about it, because it felt so wrong. But you know what, Daze? It's working. Maybe this is true only for me, only for the dynamic I somehow set up in my family. Each of us will know her own situation. But Daze, I could not see my part in this for the life of me. Healing involved, for me, realizing that I was viewing my kids as poor, inept little beings who needed me. They do not need me. They are strong, scary smart, healthy individuals who are living their lives the way they want to. I need to let them do that. That means they will have to experience the consequences of their actions. It would have been easier for them if I had let them experience their consequences when they first began going a wrong way. The consequences are pretty stiff, now. But you know, Daze? They are doing just fine. I am doing much better, am taking a look at other areas in my life where I should have stood up and demanded better. It is good, to believe in our strength. It is good to refuse to be a victim. Somewhere along the line, I allowed the problems to become who we all were. Well, that's what happened to me. The healthier I become Daze, the more my outlook changes, the more clearly I see where and how this all got started. I don't even waste a minute feeling guilty about it. I am intent, determined, certain this is what needs to happen next for all of us. You are here with us now, Daze. I think the first healing thing for me was realizing how similar our stories are. It takes time to see differently, Daze. But it will happen. Your solution, your detachment, may look different than mine. The most valuable change I made was to say: You are not a beggar. You are strong enough. I want you independent and strong. I don't want you to have to depend on your parents for anything. You are strong enough. That was the beginning, for me. Even when I didn't believe it, I said it. Things are better for us, Daze. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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