Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???

[Scent of Cedar *]

I have been woman
for a long time

Beware my smile.

I am treacherous with old magic
and the noon's new fury.

Monique Wittig

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

The lust of vengeance, all consuming
pressed of the lust of life from whence it sprang
full bodied and full blown
Curdling the love within it
ere the weakened Child be grown

A vintage rare, and bitter ~
acid etched and acid borne
Tasting of gelded rage and rusted glitter
of candles etched in ambergris
and of white linen, soiled and torn....

Tasting then of sage blessed on a cold and darkling plain
and of the holy, star-struck depths of Winter
Tasting of grief and hope and unrelenting pain ~
tasting of...the Mercy

"The quality of Mercy is not strain'd;
it falleth as the gentle rain from Heav'n
upon the place beneath.
It is twice blest;
it blesseth him that gives and him
that takes.

Tis mightiest in the Mighty.

Shakespeare
Merchant of Venice

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

Swift ~ swift comes the sly inheritor;
comes the falcon
thundering the Wind in full and prescient flight
Comes a mirror; come...white candles
come the paths a blinded Child did walk
beneath their fragile, holy light....

Come the children ~
condemned, damned and determined

Come the witches, black and white

Comes a power swift and silent running
comes startling clarity of sight

Comes the cauldron, acid etched beneath the stars
wherein the tale was ever writ
Comes the dancer, and comes the spirit of the white mare
with reigns of braided satin black as Hell
and with white satin, for a bit

Comes...the memory of Jesse

Comes the laurel; comes the left hand clasped
as it was ever written, in the right

Comes...the Mercy

Comes the bald and glass eyed witch that bore it
through all that black and endless night....

Comes the crippled Child that bore them all ~
thundering that Christless realm of greed borne vigilance
of secret hatred, of stealthy rage and envious
vendetta

Comes the fiery, wheeling magic of communion ~
come thundering cacophonies of brilliant,
breaking light

Comes the silence
burning

Burning
bright

Comes the innocent; and comes the linen clad novitiate ~
comes the phoenix rising, brilliant white against
the Sun

Comes that which was foretold, then

Comes let it now
be done

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

In that brilliant, breaking dawning the cripple stood
and walked, alone
Child of the Wind before and behind her
of the Fire and of the phoenix ~
of the witch and the falcon, flown

Child of the cauldron's acidic integrity
and of the novitiate's determined intent
Of grinding dissonance and of the gravid lust of
vengeance

Of the whisperings of the angelic host
and of the Child's own hellish descent

Marked by stars and marred by solitude
destined to soar the Wind that sings her maiden flight
alone
To shelter against the bloodied breast
of the wounded white dove

And to weave, of the dancer's shadow and the white mare's breath
the innocence of the novitiate's soul to the witch's heart
of the woman, grown

 

[BusynMember]

"Well, I guess you weren't such a good mother after all, were you?", the condemnation went global, and it went radioactive. It was a very hard time. I was so desperate to know what I had done to my child. That drove me. It wasn't until I found the site (and that was for my son, well into an addiction I denied until I had been here for some months) that I began to be able to stand up even a little, even in my own thinking.

Copa, except for giving you money when she died, your mother was not any nicer than mine. Mine would have said the same thing. So no matter if you loved your mother or not, for whatever reason, just being your mother...she was probably a horrible influence on your self-esteem your entire life. And if she had the brain God gave a goose (sorry...she may be very educated, but that doesn't make somebody have insight) she would have realized that the child came to you with special challenges that you had nothing to do with.Did you get pregnant and drink and take drugs? I don't think so.That's on his birthmother. Did you cause his brain injury? I doubt it. These are very much why he is who he is and love can not change that. Good parenting can't change that. Let me give you further examples.

I am the type who likes to join groups so naturally I joined groups from both countries where my daughter and son were born (they are seperate Asian countries). I also joined a parent group for those who adopted older children from the U.S. It is all the same. We think we can love them enough and they will be fine. We disregard DNA, drug and alcohol ingested in the womb, and possibly inherited mental slowness or mental illness because if we love them enough we will be the Brady Buch. And it never works out that way. Kids who spent years in an orphanage getting no love and holding are like me...my mother did not nurture m e as an infant, did not hold me, did not like me, did not protect me...and your son was he same until he was almost two years old plus he had drugs and alcohol affected his brain.

Not being loved at those early ages changes the wiring in the brain. I addressed that in one of my above posts. The changes are permanent. We can feed, clothe them, educate them the best we can and love them to pieces, but we can not undo the damage they came with. Almost all stories I've heard through the years about adopted older children are sad stories. Infant adoption is different, UNLESS the infant was also bathed in drugs and alcohol in utero or the birthmother didn't eat. Chances are the birthmother had no prenatal care either.

These things are not on you. You can't change them, no matter how much you loved him. My son I adopted at six was and is brilliant and was able to articulate that he could not adults. He knew about attachment disorder and thought he might have it. He felt out of place being his ethnicity in a white world. I didn't have any friends of his ethnicity and he cared very much about his heritage. He married a woman who is the same heritage as him and they live that culture.

My daughter, who came as a baby, doesn't care that much about her ethnicity and married or had her baby with a white guy. My adopted kids who are part black aren't into black either. But Goneboy was into his culture and he missed it when he was forced to come here. Even though many of his peer friends from the orphanage also came here (and mostly did horribly). He lost touch as everyone went seperate ways. We met once a year at a picnic for kids from this country and they acted like strangers.

We were not enough for this child. He had too many issues, even though he did not have mental illness or other challenges. He is a Hep. B carrier but he doesn't drink at all (very religious) and his liver is fine. But he still could not feel at home in a country where he was different and curious and too smart not to wonder. He has found his entire birth family on FB and I think he has gone there a few times to see them. How close they are, not sure.

Anyway, knock it out of your head that your son is your fault. He had so many factors before you even heard about him. He was different. You loved him. It couldn't save him. It usually can't unless you get the kid as an infant and his birthparents did not indulge in drinking and drug use. The first rejection was there. We don't like to think about it, but all adopted kids have another mother and father. And even if we get snippy and don't allow them to talk about them (I always allowed them to talk about them), they think about them a nd w hy they were sent away and our stories don't always work.

Your mother has no business telling you about your parenting skills when she didn't have any herself.

But, of course, they do.

Mine never had that chance. We were separated quite a lot by my 30s and had pretty low contact and she did not ever want to see her grandchildren that were mine so she had no opportunity to comment on my parenting. If she had, I would have thrown it back in her face. I was abused, but not always a wallflower. Tick me off enough and I'll get very angry at you right back. And that is why, I think, FOO REALLY didn't like me. I didn't sit and take it quietly. It hurt me very badly, but I wouldn't take it by shutting down.

So many things to think about.

Hope you stop blaming yourself for your son's behavior. He started out in the hole and you did as much as you could to help him thrive. Now it has to be up to him. He knows how to at least get a job and his own place if he wants to and he knows better than to use drugs.

And your mother had no right to tell you ANYTHING about parenting.

 

[BusynMember]

Me too, SWOT. I was on an Zoloft after my Mother died, but stopped because it seemed to not make one bit of a difference. The other times in my life I was on an SSRI it helped and I stopped in less than 6 months, all better

Without Paroxatene I get depressed again and I am not going to live my life in that funk. I don't care if some people think you shouldn't take psychiatric medications. If I had epilepsy, I'd take the medications. Well, depression hurts and I don't want to be incapacitated.

F anyone who doesn't like it They can eat my shorts. Ha!!! And I don't feel a bit "weak" because I have a medical disorder. Clinical depression is a medical problem.

Zoloft made me so hyper I had to quit. It took time to find a good fit.

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

Remember I wrote about M's status? This city we want to go to has given legal status to all of its people, transgenders, undocumented, etc. They want to bring everybody together into a big, protected tent.

Copa, I was thinking about M's mom. Could she not apply for sanctuary as an abused woman? I think a local women's shelter may be able to find that answer for you, or suggest who to call, next.

There is a number: 211

It was at one time, a nation-wide Information and Referral number. It is anonymous. When my kids were in such trouble, it was a good source of information for me.

You could try that, Copa.

Know that I am wishing each of you, and all of you together, all good things.

Cedar

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

D H and I are going to dinner.

:O)

Have a good night, everyone.

Cedar

 

[BusynMember]

Taunted and teased and broke and broke them, too.

This still happens to African-Amerians.
Look at the police.
Treyvon Williams.
I have black kids. They have not been teased or made fun of partly, I'm sure, because our whiteness and their white behavior cloaked them.
My daughter was homecoming queen at a practically all white school. She was very popular.
But when she overheard one of her roommates at college saying "Oh, I don't think there IS any racism anymore" she slammed her door shut and stewed over it. Then she called me to tell me how stupid it was to say that. She never addressed her friend, but she told me how she felt.
Interesting, because she has not really experienced bigotry, but she still knows it's there.

 

[BusynMember]

Did everyone hear the President sing Amazing Grace yesterday?

I love President Obama. The mean white men from a certain area have done all they can to discredit him, but a lot of good has happened during his terms.
Unfortunately, he is living proof that racism is alive and well and, yes, I think a lot of it is racism. I could be wrong, but that is my opinion.
But the same people tried to scorch earth Clinton too.They just don't like anyone who doesn't think backwards like they do.
Oops! I didn't say that!

 

[BusynMember]

That is the thing we all need to remember about ourselves. We were so hurt, and so freaking vulnerable. Predators swarm us, I swear they can spot us a mile away.

This is a fact. It has been proven (you can look it up...I've read it many times) that kids who were sexually violated are far more likely to have it repeated in adulthood.

The sick minds of mean people know their prey. They see our vulnerability and jump all over it.

 

[BusynMember]

Morning, ladies.

I've got my morning joe and am ready to go to work. I don't have to be there until an hour later today.

I am feelillng really good this morning. It's like all the other times that Sis cut me off. Each one was a trauma and I only understand the first time she did it, although in a functional family it would not have played out that way. At least, I don't think it would have.

But today the horror and shame of her doing it again (and I always know it's stupid of me to give her that much power in my life) is truly fading. This always happens eventually and then I go on and quite well. The problem happens when she comes back to inevitably do it again and then cycle repeats itself.

This time I feel better sooner because I know the cycle can never repeat itself unless I allow it and I never will again. That comforts me. I had the answer all along and I didn't know it. The answer was to get away and choose peace.

Why did it take me so long to learn???? I really struggle with why I didn't choose the "get away from it" option long ago. I guess I thought it was wrong to do it to your family, no matter what.

But that's in a "good enough" family.

I am doing the right thing for me. I am strong today, ready for work with great co-workers, and ready to take on the rest of my therapy and healing. I have come so far, but not far enough. There is always room for bettering your life.

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

The sick minds of mean people know their prey. They see our vulnerability and jump all over it.

It could be that we are targeted in these ways. I say that all the time when I am angry with someone who has disappointed me. (Therapists, or anyone taking money for promises of assistance, are not included here. They did know better. The status quo was set up in the beginning: I need assistance. Here is money. I can provide assistance; give me your money and check your brain, and everything you think you know about how the world works, at the door. I will be the authority, and you won't.) Other than therapists or those taking money to assist us, it could be that, predator or not, we are all doing the best we know to heal.

I think about that alot, with my sister. Having gone through the numerous betrayals between she and I here, with you two SWOT and Copa, I understand that whatever she needs to do to heal hurts me, and that this is intentional. We have gone through the reasons why I think this may be so, here on this thread. So, I have to take a time away. Maybe, a forever time.

Or until a time when I am healthier.

Addressing the issues is the one thing not allowed between she and I. Not believing that it could be something better than it looks like, and not believing I can mentor or be mentored or be vulnerable in my own pain and confusion ~ to understand that someone ~ anyone, but especially my own sister, my own mother, seem to bear me a deep seated hatred ~ it's a sad, lonely little thing, to acknowledge that.

My mom is a different case. She actively abuses to this day, to the degree that she is able. I can widen my perspective and see that in the way she treats everyone in her life. (Actually this same thing is true of my sister.)

I do have feelings of compassion for my mom. But she is actively determined not to respect. Without respect, there can be no trust. (Also true of my sister.) That is the thing I keep believing I need to do: Trust that the other person is trying to do better than he or she was taught, too.

Sometimes, that is not true.

Anyway, regarding others in our lives. Naturally compassionate, we do not reject those others may shun. We believe we know they can do it, because we know we did it.

But so often, they don't.

As the relationships intensify, it could be that old patterns or old brokenness come front and center and BOOM everyone feels betrayed. We come up with why we are not the ones at fault, name the other guy a jerk, and go on to do those same kinds of things again.

I had gone through a crisis of faith over that very thing, not so long ago.

Caretaker burnout is rampant among caretakers. It is hard not to judge; when we do judge others for their shortcomings, we lose faith that any of us can come through in positive ways. We learn to mind our own business, and associate ourselves with those who know how to mind their own business, too.

Yet, there is so much pain everywhere. Is it a correct thing to go on seeking and choosing our own healthy path and disregarding racism or poverty or addiction and etc?

Or ignoring animal kill shelters and the costs of no kill shelters?

Or that there are people ~ kids, too ~ in our own neighborhoods who are hungry or lonely or cold or homeless?

There are so many wrongnesses happening in large and small ways.

Then, there are the Benedictines. Their theories revolve around respect for self through identification with God, or with a higher source of wisdom which enables us to see and accept the brokenness of others and also, to acknowledge our own brokenness without self condemnation. There is belief in the benefit of work, and of cleanliness and frugality and of the honor to be found in those things. Humility, and gratitude, and respect for the sense of purpose we create in the meaning we find in our lives, and in service to others, are among their guiding philosophies.

They are very into exchange values. Respect for themselves, and respect, not trust ~ not believing they can and will overcome whatever it is ~ that is the difference, maybe, between the Benedictines and the values they espouse and live within, and me.

The value of exchange.

Which is another way of describing what it is to proceed without slipping in to codependency.

If we are not convinced we have intrinsic value, if we believe we are all just out here on our own doing the best we know, we compromise our own values, find ourselves holding positions or interacting with people we know are not helpful to our stated intentions for ourselves.

As we all have been doing, maybe, with our families of origin.

Healthy people see themselves ~ I don't know. They seem not willing to forgive wrongnesses. They do not tolerate relationships which require believing the other guy can do it.

That is how Freud figured out his theories, you know. He was trying to identify where guilt and shame and wickedness had their genesis, if we do not attribute those things to supernatural forces. (Says me. And I seem to know everything again this morning.)

:O)

Like COM posts to us, she has enough to do keeping herself in order.

That seems true to me, too. All of this has to do with integrity of purpose. Maybe we should create Mission Statements for ourselves.

That's a great idea, actually.

I will learn how to create mine from the Benedictine Mission Statement. I will share it, here. This is a very good thing. With a Mission Statement, we will decide on our purpose, and not lose sight of our path.

I am feeling a little lost, a little without purpose or family or meaningful work, this morning.

I like the idea of creating a Mission Statement, very much.

Cedar

 

[BusynMember]

Is it a correct thing to go on seeking and choosing our own healthy path and disregarding racism or poverty or addiction and etc?

Cedar, I think it is. What on earth can we do other than worry about it? We have no power to change it. I care about all of those things, but try not to think about them as there is not one thing I can do. This is so far out of our league, we can't even make a little bit of a difference, if we are being honest. So I think it's ok to ignore it except when there is something we can do to help.

Cedar, if I see somebody holding up a homeless sign, knowing t here is a 50% chance or more that he is not really homeless, I offer a meal or give him a blanket anyway and tell him about the places I know that offer help. I can't ignore this when it is in front of my face and I can maybe help somebody out. If somebody makes a racist comment to me, which doesn't happen often perhaps because of my kids, if they can't explain a good reason for why they said it, they are dismissed from my life. I don't want that kind of stink in my life. I am a little more ambivalent about addiction. I care. I would help anyone who asked me to drive him/her to a rehab, if I knew th e person and the person was not dangrous. I would wish him well. But I also think, in the back of my mind, "They chose to do this." You don't choose to be non-white and you usually don't choose to be poor. But drug addiction...I care deeply for anyone in pain, but I care more about issues that are not self-inflicted problems.

Maybe I'm my own kind of snob. Not a money snob, but a snob of a certain type. I mean, I think I had so many home problems, family problems, learning problems, mental health problems and no support and I didn't make it worse by using any drugs, ilncluding alcohol. Maybe it is stuck up of me to expect the same of other people. It probably is.

I think about that alot, with my sister. Having gone through the numerous betrayals between she and I here, with you two SWOT and Copa, I understand that whatever she needs to do to heal hurts me, and that this is intentional. We have gone through the reasons why I think this may be so, here on this thread. So, I have to take a time away. Maybe, a forever time.
Yes, Copa, we do need to see others straight without cheating and take care of ourselves, something I still kind of have a problem with because...does it mean I'm "selfish?" Maybe I am. You aren't. I would not be talking to a sister like the one you have and probably would have disconnected from my mother if she were still alive, but she died rather young and the story ended there and got uglier after her death. But if she were still alive? I may have finally had the balls to stop calling her to try to "make it all right on earth." Hard to say.

I think, Cedar, you need to do the hardest thing you've ever done a nd try putting yourself first so that your life can be peaceful. You too, Copa. Being around those who treat us with disdain are no better than us, maybe worse, yet they shame us and trigger us into emotional flashbacks to Toddlerhood. That isn't healthy for us. I am convinced that I have always gotten healtier when my sister was on disconnect with me. Every time she came back it was worse. I am more aware of this today. Our "relationship" Was always on her terms. We could not talk about certain topics...bah. And you're a sister? I don't think so.

Healthy people see themselves ~ I don't know. They seem not willing to forgive wrongnesses. They do not tolerate relationships which require believing the other guy can do it.

Another way of saying this, I think, is that healthy people demand respect. I think I am here now, although I'll never be 100% healthy, but I am finally at this place.

I am feeling a little lost, a little without purpose or family or meaningful work, this morning.

Well, everyone who is without family of origin, I think, feels that way sometimes. It would be kind of strange if we didn't wish that our families had been like the ones we see on TV. Or even the ones our friends had...the biggest difference I noticed in them and mine being that their family dropped all anger or misunderstandings and were there for hard times, if they befell one of t heir own. And they really considered family their own. Their peeps. In my family, at least, an emergency meant everyone ran from you and you didn't hear from anybody for a long time. Except when Mommy Dearest had brain cancer. Her loyal minions of two or t hree were there for her.

But nobody rushed to our sides (the children of Mommie Dearest). We siblings were remiss too. We did not go. We just were really never taught, like in some families, to love and honor our siblings and to be nice to them, so we weren't and aren't. I teased my sister with a mean spirit when she was very young and my mother, the only one home, shrugged it off. She maybe got back at me when she was older and kept doing it and it was encouraged. My brother got caught up in the hype even though he has been gone from our part of the country for over thirty years.

Cedar, we need to be selfish. Copa, we need to be selfish. It is written nowhere that we have to love our DNA collection and if we don't love them, it isn't evil. I think all of us once loved our mothers with a desperation that was rather sick. I know I did. She kicked me and kicked me and, like a boomerang, I kept adoring her, sending her love notes, telling her I loved her. Until I didn't love her anymore. Until she died and I realized she had never loved me at all. Until I stopped cheating about who she is/was. That's when I stopped loving her. And it's ok to me that I don't. How could I?

As for sibs, they can say whatever they want about me now because I will never know. I don't love them. I don't hate them. I just don't ever want to know what they are doing or saying again. I can't cheat and peak on the social media. I am well into Operation Oblivion.

Copa and Cedar, we are enough without them. If we choose to be in the lives of those who disrespect us, I feel we are doing them a favor, not the other way around.

So there!!!!! (I'm starting to like these expressive icons, especially her)

 

[BusynMember]

Hmmmmmmmmmm. I don't know why my own words did not seperate from quoting you, Cedar. Must have been a mistake somewhere. Hope you can seperate when you leave off and I come in. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez!!!

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

How does one recovery from this?

I don't think we do, Copa. We incorporate it. We take what meaning we can and find there isn't any. Ours (mine) is an ugly story.

In so many ways, an ugly story.

A fact; nothing more.

On some level my son was the remedy, the tonic I needed to go on and fight in my life. Of course he was infinitely more. But once he was in my life, I never stopped fighting or hoping.

So you saved one another there, Copa. We posted a little yesterday about loving someone and learning that loving them healed us in some deep and complete way.

He is not out of your life, yet.

He still lives.

He may die. And that will be part of the story. But the way the story ends does not change the things that went before the ending. I learned that Copa when we believed our daughter was imminently dying. All at once, when I was so sure the story was over, I realized that however sordid the ending (and it was bad, Copa), we all had lived what we had lived. The baby and the toddler and the young girl and the pain of everything and the hope that turned into anger and despair and accusation ~ when we were sure we were losing her, none of that mattered at all, Copa. Only that I had known her mattered; only that I could laugh with her, hear her voice, remember not how much she loved me, but how much it meant to me to have loved her, however it turned out.

But you know what happened next? Our daughter pulled through somehow. And wound up passed out in snowbanks and being thrown out of shelters and drug use and multiple surgeries and pain pill addiction and all at once, we were caught up again in crises not of our making.

But I have never forgotten what it meant when I had indisputable proof we were losing her for sure this time.

We cannot say what the future holds, Copa. To love a child is never wrong. Please stop accusing yourself of nefarious intent, Copa.

You gave your son his life; you gave him all he would need to create such a wonderful life, Copa. But you do not have a say ~ not anymore ~ in what he does with it, now.

These are quotes from St Exupery's Little Prince, Copa.

http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2180358-le-petit-prince?page=3

That he never had a chance, from the beginning, does not help. The fantasy had been in me that with my love he would be okay. Because loving him, I had been okay.

We felt that way too Copa, as we came, unbelievably enough, to believe in our child's psychiatric diagnosis. Which just actually happened yesterday. I kid you not. So we are trying to figure out what to do about this new thing we finally cannot not believe.

That is what we said to one another: She never had a chance from the beginning. But like our child Copa, your son had what he had from life. And so did you, from caring for and giving and protecting and loving, him.

It is an ugly story.

I don't know what to do, either.

Other times, I think it is that I have always lived my life too tied to the well-being of others, something that I have never confronted sufficiently.

I hear you loud and clear on this one.

I am having a look at that this morning, too.

Whether or not the hopes I had were realistic, does not matter. They had sustained me and now they do not.

And now, they do not.

A fact.

But your son's life is his own, Copa. You taught him well. That is all a mother can do. It is a hard choice facing you, Copa. Take your son in knowing he will continue to self-destruct, or not. Choosing not to take him in is destroying you. It would destroy me, too.

Choosing to take him in will destroy you in a different way.

There are no other choices, Copa.

It is what it is. Very hard for us, Copa.

There is no right answer. We can though, acknowledge that we have made a choice and that we can always make a different choice. We can recognize when we are catastrophizing ~ when we are writing the end of the story before it has happened. We can recognize guilt and shame and self-accusation and stop doing that to ourselves, though it is very hard.

To me Copa, the only way I could function through these past years has been to require myself to learn to like myself and to cherish myself. You know how hard that has been for me. I need to be strong enough to function in an upright position. That is why I elected to heal areas of unproductive pain. I need every ounce of energy available to me. I refuse to turn bitter; I refuse, with all my heart, to stop loving or risking for those who matter to me and to whom I matter. I am learning to let go and let God regarding things over which I have no say. I am harboring my strength.

I will need it, all of it, very shortly.

Things are not going well with my daughter.

Her illness is real and boy, I hate that.

It is what it is. For me, and for you too, Copa.

Perhaps even by my unwillingness, inability to confront his limitations, I made them worse. Fearing my own brokenness I needed to run from my son's.

It is one thing to know and believe so strongly that the limitation will win that we focus everything having to do with our children on whatever the limitation is. I accuse myself that way too sometimes, regarding FOO and especially, regarding my daughter's illness.

But here's the thing, Copa. It is another thing entirely to accept that our child has some differences, some limitations, and to believe they can live beautiful, productive lives despite them. We focus on the good things, in preparation for that life we believe in for them, instead of Master Sargenting and mini-managing and confronting and making their lives all about their limitation.

And that is all I know about that. I wish I had understood my child's illness instead of denying it.

I wish that with all my heart.

But we have had our triumphant moments Copa, that were not colored by that specter of illness that colors everything, now.

It is the situation that is wrong. Not me. Not you. Not our children. We do the best, the very best and more, that we know or can learn.

And there doesn't seem to be anyone who can pick us up or even, hold us up as we walk through this with our kids, Copa.

So, we have to stand up on our own, as best we can. And we do it too, Copa, for our kids.

It's just really, really hard.

And now the nightmare has begun.

And I have taken on the hopelessness and fear I feel for him, as my own.

I am now reduced to everything against which I have fought my adult life, this deep brokenness, alone and without hope.

Am I still believing that if it is me who is struck down, if I take on the despair and confusion he might be saved?

"And now the nightmare has begun."

Another fact.

It is a living nightmare, Copa. But it also is what it is. You (and I do too), need to be strong now, Copa. I don't exactly know what I mean by that, either. I don't know what will come, what will be expected, how bad it is going to get, this time. There is no hope Copa. For me, it is happening again. Despair will not help me. It will not help you either, Copa. It just is what it is, despair.

Just a fact.

We would not be sane Copa, if we did not feel hopeless, if we did not feel despair. It's just that these feeling states are not helpful to us, now.

Snip.

Out they go.

Wise, wary, watchful, loving, honest, compassionate. Always aware of what the options are regarding community placement or assistance. Alert to our own emotional states, aware that we cannot have them home without destroying us all, keeping these true things foremost in our hearts and minds lest we lose track of ourselves and our purpose.

Those are the things that will help us now, Copa.

There is nothing else.

I am now reduced to everything against which I have fought my adult life, this deep brokenness, alone and without hope.

I'm sorry, Copa.

Broken. Alone. Without hope.

That is a place to begin, Copa.

Nothing left to lose is a place to begin.

In a way, that is why we are engaging here on this thread as we are. To address the times we were victimized into brokenness, and to reclaim the resilience that is ours by right and that our abusers hurt out of us.

Resilience; flexibility; breath. Those things are the tools we need now, and those things, we can achieve.

Life has been impossibly hard for each of us; we started off at such intensely disadvantaged places. That wasn't our fault or our doing, Copa. Neither are these events we must gather our forces to address now. Still, because one way or another, we will be required to respond as their mothers ~ at some point, we will need to do that, Copa ~ we need to learn how to see and respond and stay steady state in the face of impossibly painful, hopelessly pain filled, sometimes ~ too many times ~ pointlessly hurtful, realities.

We are their moms, Copa.

They have only us to fight for and love and believe in them. No one else in all the world sees them as we do.

That is important, though it seems not to be, sometimes. But imagine what it would have meant to us, to have had mothers like that.

Cedar

 

[BusynMember]

Copa, do you think all the mothers who tried so hard to raise children with unusual limitations, such as alcohol and drug addiction in utero are bad mothers? Most did not raise "normal" adults. Most kids who have those issues do not have an easy path. Why are you harder on yourself than you'd be on anybody else?

 

[Copabanana]

“You know...my flower...I'm responsible for her. And she's so weak! And so naive. She has four ridiculous thorns to defend her against the world...”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Why are you harder on yourself than you'd be on anybody else?

I was nothing to begin with. I was broken and I needed him, to care for him, in order to live, when I could not care enough for myself.
____

On one star, one planet, my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my arms, and rocked him.

I said to him: "The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will --"

I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.”

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
______

I have decided that I am this flower. This poor naive and weak flower with only four ridiculous thorns to defend myself against the world.

And I'm responsible for her, for me. To defend her against the world. I am all she has. She who has lived only with hope and trust and love. When there was none of this to begin. Foolish, ridiculous girl, who has seen only with the heart.

I had thought the little flower had been my son. And for a long time, he was.

I will learn to draw a railing and a muzzle. I will learn to anticipate who will come at 4 in the afternoon, to be happy at 3. I can do that.

I will learn to love and protect the little flower. As my own.

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

"Until I didn't love her anymore." (SWOT)

"Until I stopped cheating." (SWOT)

SWOT, you are right. I think I trick myself into imagining that either my mom or my sister care about and miss me, too. If that were true though, these things would never have happened. Of course they are doing what they did the last time this happened, and five years slid by: uniting against a common enemy.

I forgot that I hate them.

:O)

I don't get to cheat, either.

It is what it is. Just another ugly story, and there are so many. This story relative to my FOO is both ugly and stupid. There is no win in any of it that I can see.

And I say that all the time, don't I. That I don't get the win. I have never been getting the win, and they have never not been so strangely...superior.

That is the word I am looking for: superior.

I was thinking today about my sister and her husband, who have always been invited for our 4th of July celebration, along with D H family ~ which is huge. And two years ago, my sister had the nerve to say, quite loudly and about three times, that we were working oh, so hard to get the food out and etc.

And before they left, and for a few times after that, my sister said: they had recently done an outside event and had it catered.

Because it was too much work.

And I know I am probably being over sensitive here, but that was a really crummy thing to say when you add in the condo on Padre and ~ well, I can't think of anything else right now.

But I am sure there are things.

***

I don't know why I keep thinking I miss them. I think what I miss is who I had convinced myself they were, really. I was so certain we could do this. But when I look back on it, we were never anywhere close, not even while my father was still alive.

So, yeah. I hate them.

Pretending it could ever be okay when it has not been healed in all these long years is cheating.

I am like, so p*issed off about this.

Oh. Well, that's good in a way. That means I am only angry, and not that I hate. Always have to watch out for that hatred stuff.

Whew.

Cedar

 

[BusynMember]

don't know why I keep thinking I miss them. I think what I miss is who I had convinced myself they were, really. I was so certain we could do this. But when I look back on it, we were never anywhere close, not even while my father was still alive.

I can share what I used to do. I pretended (I guess cheated). I thought of the few and far between times my mother showed a little warmth. Everyone shows warmth at times. Now, in case they are reading this, I do not mean my brother did not get warmth from her. He did. My sister got it once she turned around 30 years old. But I didn't get it on a regular basis, but I clung to the few memories of her approval, like the day I sang "How Lovely to be a Woman" in Bye-Bye Birdie and the director stood up, clapping, and said, "That was REALLY professional!" to me. My mother beamed. She was so proud. Those were the types of things that make any mother proud so she was reacting normally this one time.

And I block out her mocking voice screeching, "Hockey players!!! I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare! But you don't g ive a dang (the real word) about anyone in this family. You're so selfish. You only think about yourself." (This, by the way, was stated because I loved hockey and baseball and got mocked plenty for that...she didn't think it was wrong that a girl liked sports. She just used anything I loved against me. And I did love sports. I still use sports as a major form of escapism and fun and bonding with hubby and Jumper. And Bart sometimes, although we like differing teams. Ok, off the rant.

I also forget "You adopted those kids for the MONEY. Yes, you did, don't give me that BS, you did, you did, you did! You want the money from the state!"

Yeah, you get a lot of money from the state when you adopt internationally. (This is a lie. It's only for foster care adoption in the U.S.)

With my sister I had a lot more fun. I used to use my creativity to be, we ll, very creative and wrote scripts to her at college called "How the Burnstein Family LIves." Pretend our last name was Bearnstein (it isn't). I used the name and twisted it a bit. I remember the first line of the first play I sent her.

I renamed the family members, making fun of them all, including myself. But this exchange was between my mother and father and never happened, but to this day it still makes me laugh because it is so true. My father only had to say a word and my mother would erupt with "divorce."

Ezra: Esther, da meat iz a leetle cold. Can you heat it up pleeze?

Esther: That does it!!! I want a divorce!!!!!

My sister told me that she used to crack up reading my scripts and her roommates would ask her what she was laughing at and she would say, "Oh, my sister's a writer and this is funny." She never showed anybody, but we understood.

Our family was nuts and we could both make fun of it, including ourselves. In it, Naomi (not my real name) was big as a house because I had gained a ton of weight once and may hve still been big at the time. I don't remember. She ate everything in sight, food or the table. Rachel, my sister (not her real name) was so skinny nobody could see her and people would say, "Where's Rachel?" and she'd be there, but invisible. She had an eating disorder. But we laughed at ourselves and at our family. It was not malicious. I was not yet taking an honest look at the family. It was an outlet of rage underneath, I'm sure, (and I think it may have been for her too), but it was harmless. And she'd write back and we'd both laugh and we had fun.

As time went by, we were on again/off again, depending on her an d I would always remember the laughs we'd had, not just over th e scripts, but we have a similar and very silly sense of humor and she can catch onto what I mean. Not everybody can or appreciates my sense of humor, but hers is similar.

So I missed the laughter and the past that we shared. Until I got very heavy into therapy and realized that the laughs we had together did not make up for her feelings that I am "crazy" or that she never stuck up for me to my mother (which she did not HAVE to do, but which I would have done for her...and which I did not think was okay).She called the cops when I tried to find out why she was angry. She even called OUR small town cop shop once I moved to another state. The joke of it was our town only had three cops and the one she always got was the father of a good friend of Jumpers and totally believed that my sister was crazy when he talked to me about her calls, as he had to do. Calling the cops? REALLY? I also suffered after each cut off and that was not ok either. I stopped remembering the fun times, as there were less of them after her divorce and various escapades with men. Bad men. We disagreed on her lifestyle and choices and she was not ok that I disagreed.

Now when I think of both my brother and sister, and it becomes less and less, I remember the mean stuff. The cut offs. The cops. The names. The blame. The times they took my intentions and turned them black. They have both done this over and over again. The letter from my brother than I thankfully never read, but that I knew was meant to be mean. How my sister spent years and years cutting up my brother. She was so embarassed about him. And how my brother forgave her for all that ugliness, but wrote letters to ME.

When I don't look at only the good, which is the minority, and as we get older it gets worse and worse, I don't feel those warm fuzzy "I know they miss me" emotions anymore. I don't know if they do. I know my sister used to miss me A LOT. I hope she no longer does because that would be unfortunate for her. As for bro, well, as I've said often, he hasn't lived here for so long that I don't know him anymore and he sure as hello does not know me. He was mama's main protector.

Cedar, the key is oblivion. I swear by it. Now you can't do it if you can't do it. We all have to handle this our own way. But I find it much easier to do it t his way. THEY ARE TRIGGERS. They disrupt the normally peaceful life I live.

Now I understand something else too, which is a bit delicate and I hope this does not tread on any toes.

I have a good relationship with my four kids that are still around. Goneboy, no, but the other four, yes. And I think that makes it easier to get rid of the other family. So I understand why it is harder for you two to say good-bye. I anticipated this family tossing me in the mud and I wanted a family so I very deliberately made sure I had a large family of my own. I had five kids, but one took off...it's still four kids and now two grands. In many ways I had a lot of foresight when I was young, screwed up or not. I knew I wanted a family. I knew that the more kids I had, the more love I'd have and the more love I could give and I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. I had no fantasies of working or running a big corporation and did not really miss not having a full time job. I wanted to raise my kids, not have a babysitter do it. I worked part-time and only when my first husband could be home, like in the evening. No daycare. Not in my vocabulary. I did not work for many years when I married a second time and raised Jumper and Sonic. So I got to live my dream, pretty much.

In case you wonder how I feel about Goneboy, I love him. I don't ache with that love though. I know why he had to leave and I wish him no ill. He does not feel like my child a nymore because he has been gone for so long. I do not mourn the child he had that I never met. If I'd met them, that would have been different. I figure it happened because it had to come together for HIM and I did all I could.

Yes, the four other kids are a great consolation and make it ok that he made this decision. It did hurt a lot for two years, but I understand it more now and life is still good and I hope it is good for him too. I am not angry or bitter or sorry we brought him here. I am only sorry I had not checked with others about the success rate of older child adoption before we did it, but, of course, like everyone else who does it, I would have turned my cheek and thought, "It will be different for us. We will be so careful about which child we adopt and we will love him enough to heal him." So I don't blame us for adopting him either. My feelings about this are pretty much comfortably resolved.

I think I rambled enough this time. I hope this made some sort of sense. Had a busy work day and brain is a bit scrambled, kind of like an egg