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He was fired today
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<blockquote data-quote="Albatross" data-source="post: 625254" data-attributes="member: 17720"><p>Daze, I'm so happy to hear that your son is putting it out there the way he is. MWM, thank you for shedding light on the struggles of those kinds of disabilities. It makes me root even more for your son, Daze. It can't be easy for him but he is working through it. Whether it's this job or something he finds thru vocational rehab, I so hope he finds his niche. </p><p></p><p>COM, I was wondering if you were writing about MY difficult child in some of your post. I had such a similar experience with HS, college, the texts, more or less ALL of your post is strikingly similar to my journey with my difficult child over the past 8 years or so. </p><p></p><p>I keep a journal and take the time to write in it each morning. I got a new one recently, actually right after I read through my last few journals. In my old journals, the entries were usually written at 2 or 3 a.m., because I couldn't sleep. On and on the pages went, always the same trajectory of emotions tracking the same basic plot points over and over and over, hope over promise made, excusing away followed by self-blame followed by anger for promises broken, followed by devastation. Over and over again, page after page, year after year. Reading through those, I wondered how in the world I could ever wonder if I hadn't tried enough, hadn't cared enough? I cried and cried and practically all but bled out in those pages. Who was this person, who kept coming back for more? </p><p></p><p>So I packed all those journals away and got myself a new one. It's nice, with a black leather cover. Inside I put a picture of a frail-looking lady holding onto a rope. The other end of the rope is tied around the neck of a giant albatross. She's struggling to try to corral this albatross around the neck, and it is quite obvious that her struggle is fruitless. </p><p></p><p>I see myself as that lady and my relationship with difficult child as that giant albatross. In a lot of ways it has become like the albatross in the poem, a burden of guilt and pain that I sentenced myself to carry always. The rope is my illusion of control. What might happen if she lets go of the rope? The albatross might stay where it is, might wander off for awhile, might even soar to new heights, but that rope isn't going to matter. The only thing the rope does is ensure that the frail little lady gets helplessly dragged behind. </p><p></p><p>It's a silly thing, but the picture reminds me sometimes, to let go of the rope.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Albatross, post: 625254, member: 17720"] Daze, I'm so happy to hear that your son is putting it out there the way he is. MWM, thank you for shedding light on the struggles of those kinds of disabilities. It makes me root even more for your son, Daze. It can't be easy for him but he is working through it. Whether it's this job or something he finds thru vocational rehab, I so hope he finds his niche. COM, I was wondering if you were writing about MY difficult child in some of your post. I had such a similar experience with HS, college, the texts, more or less ALL of your post is strikingly similar to my journey with my difficult child over the past 8 years or so. I keep a journal and take the time to write in it each morning. I got a new one recently, actually right after I read through my last few journals. In my old journals, the entries were usually written at 2 or 3 a.m., because I couldn't sleep. On and on the pages went, always the same trajectory of emotions tracking the same basic plot points over and over and over, hope over promise made, excusing away followed by self-blame followed by anger for promises broken, followed by devastation. Over and over again, page after page, year after year. Reading through those, I wondered how in the world I could ever wonder if I hadn't tried enough, hadn't cared enough? I cried and cried and practically all but bled out in those pages. Who was this person, who kept coming back for more? So I packed all those journals away and got myself a new one. It's nice, with a black leather cover. Inside I put a picture of a frail-looking lady holding onto a rope. The other end of the rope is tied around the neck of a giant albatross. She's struggling to try to corral this albatross around the neck, and it is quite obvious that her struggle is fruitless. I see myself as that lady and my relationship with difficult child as that giant albatross. In a lot of ways it has become like the albatross in the poem, a burden of guilt and pain that I sentenced myself to carry always. The rope is my illusion of control. What might happen if she lets go of the rope? The albatross might stay where it is, might wander off for awhile, might even soar to new heights, but that rope isn't going to matter. The only thing the rope does is ensure that the frail little lady gets helplessly dragged behind. It's a silly thing, but the picture reminds me sometimes, to let go of the rope. [/QUOTE]
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