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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 659199" data-attributes="member: 17461">Especially our sensitive, creative, forever dreaming children need safety and stability and safe harbor and home, to help them know what is real.You would have thrived with a different type of mother.She probably scared the heck out of you.  Smart baby.Remember when I told the story of my mom screaming that I was a liar?  And it had nothing to do with the discussion we were having, but that my mo had just come from her sisters, where she was herself called a liar?Maybe this theme of selfishness your mom was so focused on was something like that, SWOT?My mom never really called us bad names, that I can remember.  That first therapist called me a bad name and I have never been able to quite put it behind me or figure out what it means or know what to do with it at all.That must be so hard for you, SWOT.I am sorry your mom did that to you.  Yes.  And what are the odds I wonder, that a baby poorly nurtured herself would grow up to provide intense, caring, constant nurturing for others?But you did.***My progress:This morning, the contempt I felt for myself, the dullness surrounding and permeating and dripping from all things, the day itself foggy and vision limited, the sun breaking through and catching the waves, the water teal colored...these things are clearing.  I am seeing my sister or my mom in my mind's eye, but I no longer hear them.  I do feel so badly for all I did not have, and do not have, and it is a sad thing that the dream of it is gone now, too.  That they will not care enough about me to cause a scene or create drama, that my own people will choose simply to go on without me; that I am choosing against them, too.  That they will feel entitled to claim the trappings of whatever position I held.That I will have nothing.The road is dusty; the sun is hot.  I am alone.  A desert time, a time when all there is, when all I know, is to come from where we are, and be who we are, and continue to see.The sea is beautifully clear, fresh water, vibrant and cold and moving and catching and reflecting the sun.I know it is there; I anticipate the scent of the water, wet and fresh and deliciously cold. So I am choosing desert now, in a way.It is very hot; very still.CedarSo I am still in a holding pattern regarding the toxicities learned and loosed.Moving water.Deep water, ahead.Still the sense of burden, of bearing something heavy, of moving.I am trying to learn to encompass this ennui, to acknowledge the suffering and the willingness to suffer and the knowing there is no triumph at the end but only alone.So, that is why we must keep going back then, to our so hurtful dysfunctional families.We love them, too.  At the same time they hurt us, we really do feel love for them; we really do wish for them.The feelings are less intense, today.  I know I am moving, and not stuck.Cedar</blockquote>

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