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I made him leave.
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 677919" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>When M went to the house where my son is staying my son mentioned the inadequate hot water. Mind you, he is paying nothing. According to him he has nowhere else to go. This is a brilliant question and if I could answer it I would be better off.</p><p></p><p>I think the issue for me is more the relationship between us, and not so much about him. I think I turned to the relationship with my son to fill holes in myself. And when he grew up those holes in myself became manifest, just as much as his difficulties became so. Much of it is about me, I fear.</p><p></p><p>Let me come at it backwards and sideways. I adopted my son. Really I had nobody else. I did not have my family. Any family. I had no life partner. I had set my sights on a career as meeting my needs, a way to get stronger and more secure. Not financially. I was seeking worth as a person. I felt I had none.</p><p></p><p>When I found out my father was dead I spun out into a bad depression. I had not seen him or spoken to him in the 5 years before he died. I was told he died 4 years after the fact.</p><p></p><p>I decided I needed more in my life, a child, another person, that I could not live with only me anymore, me and my ambition. It all felt hollow and meaningless.</p><p></p><p>I had been trying to solve the problem of "me" for all my adult life. I was very goal oriented. I always had friends. I went to college. I worked always. I got good jobs. I went into intensive psychotherapy. I paid for it myself. My issues: I was afraid of men. I had flings, dates, friends, lovers, and one great love. Just before I had learned my father had died this great love had left. I was devastated.</p><p></p><p>During that time I became convinced that I had had a history of sexual abuse. I say this because I want to convey what my son meant to me. Everything. Into this fractured life, I brought a child, himself with problems.</p><p></p><p>He had nobody, either. For a dozen years we were two peas in a pod. It was a great love story. And then it wasn't.</p><p></p><p>My son was always disorganized. Needed Special Education for ADHD type behaviors. But nothing ever touched us. Our love sustained us both.</p><p></p><p>We had great adventures. We traveled a lot and lived a lot in foreign countries. He became tri-lingual.</p><p></p><p>At first when he got oppositional, it was not that big of a deal. Maybe because I felt strong then. Strong and capable. I had a lot of success in my work. The traveling. I felt strong.</p><p></p><p>I will summarize here: By 18 or so he became depressed. Dramatic. Self-indulgent. I had to push him to do anything or everything. He would not look for jobs or study unless pushed. He could not keep jobs. </p><p></p><p>He would talk about me to my neighbors. Gossip. Who would criticize me and talk about me together. I did not push him out early enough.</p><p></p><p>He blames everybody else for his problems. He is a terrible slob. He is disloyal. He can be arrogant. More and more he looks like a homeless person. He has been homeless off and on. He gets SSI. He cannot sustain a living situation. He does not want to work. He is bossy. Torn clothing.</p><p></p><p>I was hopeful when he went to live and work with a friend and his father. He worked hard for the friend who has a landscape concrete business. I set limits on phone calls. I did not want to see him. And then it all fell apart.</p><p></p><p>In a way it is as if I fell apart. He keeps going.</p><p></p><p>He does not have the fight as a person that I had, but in many ways he is stronger than I.</p><p></p><p>When he is here in our home he leaves horrible messes. He does not want to help in any way. The seductive piece of it, is that I love him. When he is close to me there are moments I find the old feelings. The great love for him. And then something happens and it turns into rage.</p><p>When people meet my son initially they are impressed (OK. Not now with the ratty clothes.) His manners. He is very smart. Articulate. Confident. Handsome. But he does not want to take responsibility for himself. When he secures an opportunity he imposes his own rules, and the opportunity blows up. He does not seem to learn from his mistakes. His judgment is very poor.</p><p>For almost 2 years now we have been planning to go back East. It was never feasible because I could not get over my mother's death. Now there are responsibilities here. The boxer dog, Dolly, has a recurrence of her cancer. We are fixing up a property to rent.</p><p></p><p>Last night I got dreadfully ill, and I am still in bed today. I do not think my health or spirit can bear more. I am not sure if it is that I am an essentially weak and damaged person, if I am unable to accept my son as he is, or if he will not let me go.</p><p></p><p>But I cannot take it. I am so undermined. So completely undone. I have had some scary health diagnoses lately. But that does not mean <em>I</em> am dead yet.</p><p></p><p>But today I feel like I am almost dead. I feel more weak and dependent and bereft than I believe Serenity's Dad feels, with his lung cancer. All of the life and hope seems sucked out of me.</p><p></p><p>When my son is here in my town I cannot bear it. I feel like my life is over. I do not want to see or talk to him. I did this with my family, too. I think I am at heart a very weak and defective person. That is all I can say. I am very, very sad. And sick.</p><p></p><p>I would still love to go back east. Just leave my house for a while.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 677919, member: 18958"] When M went to the house where my son is staying my son mentioned the inadequate hot water. Mind you, he is paying nothing. According to him he has nowhere else to go. This is a brilliant question and if I could answer it I would be better off. I think the issue for me is more the relationship between us, and not so much about him. I think I turned to the relationship with my son to fill holes in myself. And when he grew up those holes in myself became manifest, just as much as his difficulties became so. Much of it is about me, I fear. Let me come at it backwards and sideways. I adopted my son. Really I had nobody else. I did not have my family. Any family. I had no life partner. I had set my sights on a career as meeting my needs, a way to get stronger and more secure. Not financially. I was seeking worth as a person. I felt I had none. When I found out my father was dead I spun out into a bad depression. I had not seen him or spoken to him in the 5 years before he died. I was told he died 4 years after the fact. I decided I needed more in my life, a child, another person, that I could not live with only me anymore, me and my ambition. It all felt hollow and meaningless. I had been trying to solve the problem of "me" for all my adult life. I was very goal oriented. I always had friends. I went to college. I worked always. I got good jobs. I went into intensive psychotherapy. I paid for it myself. My issues: I was afraid of men. I had flings, dates, friends, lovers, and one great love. Just before I had learned my father had died this great love had left. I was devastated. During that time I became convinced that I had had a history of sexual abuse. I say this because I want to convey what my son meant to me. Everything. Into this fractured life, I brought a child, himself with problems. He had nobody, either. For a dozen years we were two peas in a pod. It was a great love story. And then it wasn't. My son was always disorganized. Needed Special Education for ADHD type behaviors. But nothing ever touched us. Our love sustained us both. We had great adventures. We traveled a lot and lived a lot in foreign countries. He became tri-lingual. At first when he got oppositional, it was not that big of a deal. Maybe because I felt strong then. Strong and capable. I had a lot of success in my work. The traveling. I felt strong. I will summarize here: By 18 or so he became depressed. Dramatic. Self-indulgent. I had to push him to do anything or everything. He would not look for jobs or study unless pushed. He could not keep jobs. He would talk about me to my neighbors. Gossip. Who would criticize me and talk about me together. I did not push him out early enough. He blames everybody else for his problems. He is a terrible slob. He is disloyal. He can be arrogant. More and more he looks like a homeless person. He has been homeless off and on. He gets SSI. He cannot sustain a living situation. He does not want to work. He is bossy. Torn clothing. I was hopeful when he went to live and work with a friend and his father. He worked hard for the friend who has a landscape concrete business. I set limits on phone calls. I did not want to see him. And then it all fell apart. In a way it is as if I fell apart. He keeps going. He does not have the fight as a person that I had, but in many ways he is stronger than I. When he is here in our home he leaves horrible messes. He does not want to help in any way. The seductive piece of it, is that I love him. When he is close to me there are moments I find the old feelings. The great love for him. And then something happens and it turns into rage. When people meet my son initially they are impressed (OK. Not now with the ratty clothes.) His manners. He is very smart. Articulate. Confident. Handsome. But he does not want to take responsibility for himself. When he secures an opportunity he imposes his own rules, and the opportunity blows up. He does not seem to learn from his mistakes. His judgment is very poor. For almost 2 years now we have been planning to go back East. It was never feasible because I could not get over my mother's death. Now there are responsibilities here. The boxer dog, Dolly, has a recurrence of her cancer. We are fixing up a property to rent. Last night I got dreadfully ill, and I am still in bed today. I do not think my health or spirit can bear more. I am not sure if it is that I am an essentially weak and damaged person, if I am unable to accept my son as he is, or if he will not let me go. But I cannot take it. I am so undermined. So completely undone. I have had some scary health diagnoses lately. But that does not mean [I]I[/I] am dead yet. But today I feel like I am almost dead. I feel more weak and dependent and bereft than I believe Serenity's Dad feels, with his lung cancer. All of the life and hope seems sucked out of me. When my son is here in my town I cannot bear it. I feel like my life is over. I do not want to see or talk to him. I did this with my family, too. I think I am at heart a very weak and defective person. That is all I can say. I am very, very sad. And sick. I would still love to go back east. Just leave my house for a while. [/QUOTE]
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