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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 660188" data-attributes="member: 17461">Ha! I will, Copa.  She is amazing.  She was a blond little girl and teen and then, her hair darkened.  When this all started but before we had any clue where it would go, she shaved her head after the school year and had chakra tattoos done. She has huge blue eyes.  Her nose has been broken so many times.  Her teeth are beautiful; she wore braces as a kid, and takes good care of them to this day.  (This is true for both my kids.)   She has dead bones in her feet Copa, that they have removed pieces of surgically, from being stomped on.  She has been beat, and has memory problems because of that.  She is generous and kind and funny ~ so funny, Copa and SWOT!  Here is a story about her illness:  She had been sought out by the school where she worked before this happened, once they found out through a friendship she has kept up with someone who still works there, that she was again in that state.  She agreed to do subbing, wondering how that was all going to work, given her memory problems, now.  She took a six week, full-time position for now, and signed a contract for a full time position for next year.  Which was a very courageous thing for her to do, I thought.  She has a full disability, and would not have to work at all, if she didn't want to.   Anyway, one day, she was working in her classroom after the kids were gone.  She kept writing assignments for the next day on the board until every board in the room was covered, top to bottom, with things having to do with the next day's lesson.  The kids came in the next morning, the day progressed.  At some point, she had, or someone had, taken a picture of one of the kids at the board.  It did not strike my daughter as a strange thing to have done until she saw the board behind the person in the picture.  That is when my daughter thought:  "Oh oh."  So we were talking about that yesterday, right?  And she said that she was so embarrassed and sort of weirded out by it.  But the kids actually read it and responded to those of the questions she had posed regarding that day's lesson.And it got to be quite the discussion forum, because no one had to raise their hand or perform in public or say anything at all unless they wanted to express an opinion about the controversial events my daughter had written onto the board.  So, she left it all up, and discussed what the kids had written, and felt happy about it and etc.It turned out that my daughter was complimented by the principal, and that this method of eliciting interest in disaffected, at risk high school students is going to be employed by other teachers in that school next year.She was an incredibly empathic teacher, when she taught before.Apparently, that hasn't changed.So, that's my daughter.Two grandsons are coming with; one granddaughter (not Baklava grand ~ she is happily back in Portland) will be coming on the 3rd.I cannot believe it sometimes, that our daughter was able to bring her family together again.We never thought this would happen.:O)A very hard time for all of us.You are his mom, Copa.Like me, and like SWOT too, we don't get to do that.Maybe they will never need us.  Maybe they will; maybe, we will mess up when they need us.We don't have to be perfect anymore, Copa.We are real, now.That is correct, Copa.I know the story of Masada.But their enemies were outside forces; our enemies, our destroyers,  live in our hearts.Snip.Out they go.Our FOO would never choose Masada.  They would blame us and name us and turn us in and go blithely (or bitterly) on without us.  True.That is how we do it, in my family of origin.  Find the victim, blame the victim, come away clean.  For heaven's sake they even blamed my father after he was dead.  (My mother did that.  Said things were going to be so different now because he was the reason things had been the way they always had been.  And then?  She went rabid and poisonous and radioactive.)So, now we know what we have always known, all along.She could no more take the fresh start than she had ever taken any fresh start.  She (my mom) chooses as she chooses, every time.Nothing personal to me, after all.It p*sses me off a little.  That I was not even important in her choice of destroying me.  Nothing personal.Ouch.All those beatings, all that terror, all that brokenness and shame; nothing personal.F you, mom.Where is my motorcycle.<img src="/community/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/2012/mcsmiley1.gif"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":mcsmiley1:" title="mcsmiley1    :mcsmiley1:" data-shortname=":mcsmiley1:" />roarNo need to agonize over that, Copa.  Maybe it is time to try something altogether new.That is such a painful thing, Copa.  I am sorry.  I think you did not hate him, at the beginning.He did bad things, Copa.I could be wrong here Copa, but I think not.  To me, it seems like the whole world is out to make everyone else the donkey.  We tumble into and out of things, dangerous things, mostly surprised.  We just don't get the win ~ that is a good way to say it, I think.But there are predators out there, alright.The part about having been accused of something we know we deserve the accusation for but not what the crime was, exactly?That is fraudulence, Copa.The criminal, newly wakenedwonder, at her crimeNot refute the crime, not deny the accusation.  Wonder what I'd done, wonder what exactly that might have been.  Full hit on the condemnation, Copa; but I never did know exactly what I'd done.Really, I still don't.But he (that first therapist) knew what he meant on some level, I am sure.  That he was unable to communicate it to me in an understandable way?  Leaves me wondering whether there was no way to explain what he meant because he did not know, himself.Snip.But there is a sadness there, still.Darn those first therapists, anyway.It is with him, through him, that I was first alive, that I felt the wonder of my own living breath for the first time.How can I hate him for that?  Whatever came after, how can I hate him, for that?It was worth it; all of it, for the taste of that first breath.  What happened next is just the rest of the story.  It was an ugly story.zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....:O)Cedar</blockquote>

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