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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 741351" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Last night I realized something painful and true. </p><p></p><p>Part of my agony with my son is thinking about the inevitability of his distress as an adult, and how I denied it. My son was both drug exposed and taken from his birth mom to be put in an orphanage at 2 weeks old, where he stayed until I found him there when he was 22 months. </p><p></p><p>I believed throughout his childhood that my love, our love could cure. Because I was in as much need of redemption or more. And it did. Together we were whole. Until we were not. </p><p></p><p>A psychiatrist told me 4 years ago something I felt to be brutal: <em>Recognize It, </em>he said. <em>This will never get better. (J.) He will never get better. What is served by your denying reality, he asked?</em> I reminded him he had never met my son and his knowledge of him was filtered through me, a distraught mother. He would not hear me.</p><p></p><p>Well. What I am facing is that it has been my m.o. in life to deny reality. That is why I could not face that my cat was ill until she was 5 lbs. </p><p></p><p>That is why I could not face my own internal landscape which is bereft and alone. I maintained the illusion my whole life that I could make my life something it was not: whole. As I believed that my love could make my son whole. </p><p></p><p>The pain of this is the need to confront myself and my lies. I blame myself because had I faced my sons limits I could have had different expectations about what he could do for himself.</p><p></p><p>I am thinking about Elsi's two, particularly the older son who is homeless. This young man has wounds. But he has strengths. What could Elsi have done? With the kind of strengths he has, could she have really insisted he go to some kind of protected situation? </p><p></p><p>My son has had two traumatic brain injuries</p><p>as a young adult. The first one happened in my house or outside of it. The second one in a homeless shelter when he was hit in the head because he was carrying thousands of dollars in his pocket he had inherited from my mother. And was talking about it.</p><p></p><p>What I am struggling with here is my role in protecting him from life. What could I have done? What I should do? </p><p></p><p>I am struggling here with the concept of safety and healing. I am facing that the danger that was never acknowledged and the brokenness that was never faced was my own. Finally in my life I have the proper lens on the proper problem. I am the problem. My own feelings and thinking. </p><p></p><p>And I am hearing you, that the acceptance and healing need to start with me.</p><p></p><p>Thank you.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 741351, member: 18958"] Last night I realized something painful and true. Part of my agony with my son is thinking about the inevitability of his distress as an adult, and how I denied it. My son was both drug exposed and taken from his birth mom to be put in an orphanage at 2 weeks old, where he stayed until I found him there when he was 22 months. I believed throughout his childhood that my love, our love could cure. Because I was in as much need of redemption or more. And it did. Together we were whole. Until we were not. A psychiatrist told me 4 years ago something I felt to be brutal: [I]Recognize It, [/I]he said. [I]This will never get better. (J.) He will never get better. What is served by your denying reality, he asked?[/I] I reminded him he had never met my son and his knowledge of him was filtered through me, a distraught mother. He would not hear me. Well. What I am facing is that it has been my m.o. in life to deny reality. That is why I could not face that my cat was ill until she was 5 lbs. That is why I could not face my own internal landscape which is bereft and alone. I maintained the illusion my whole life that I could make my life something it was not: whole. As I believed that my love could make my son whole. The pain of this is the need to confront myself and my lies. I blame myself because had I faced my sons limits I could have had different expectations about what he could do for himself. I am thinking about Elsi's two, particularly the older son who is homeless. This young man has wounds. But he has strengths. What could Elsi have done? With the kind of strengths he has, could she have really insisted he go to some kind of protected situation? My son has had two traumatic brain injuries as a young adult. The first one happened in my house or outside of it. The second one in a homeless shelter when he was hit in the head because he was carrying thousands of dollars in his pocket he had inherited from my mother. And was talking about it. What I am struggling with here is my role in protecting him from life. What could I have done? What I should do? I am struggling here with the concept of safety and healing. I am facing that the danger that was never acknowledged and the brokenness that was never faced was my own. Finally in my life I have the proper lens on the proper problem. I am the problem. My own feelings and thinking. And I am hearing you, that the acceptance and healing need to start with me. Thank you. [/QUOTE]
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