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<blockquote data-quote="Elsi" data-source="post: 740151" data-attributes="member: 23349"><p>Thank you, thank you, thank you all. I am reading and rereading your words this morning. I will be reading them many times again.</p><p></p><p>Copa, thank you for your raw honesty and vulnerability here. I think most of us here have been in similar places, where we have reacted by instinct rather than responded with logic. My children have witnessed me melt down from frustration or totally lose it. I don’t do that any more. But I don’t do that any more because I am in a safe place where I can retreat and recover and get ahold of myself. And if I give up that safe space, I won’t be able to be the strong calm one anymore.</p><p></p><p>And you’ve correctly identified that the roots of our pathological need to save our children comes from our own childhood and our own sense of self. I have been thinking a lot about these root causes lately. My father, who was probably also on the spectrum somewhere as well as bipolar, was the only person in my childhood who ‘got’ me, and he committed suicide when I was 12. I was the last person he talked to. He gave me his beloved guitar. I have questioned ever since why I didn’t see it coming and whether there was anything I could have done to stop it. It’s always in my head when I hear the despair in my children’s voices.</p><p></p><p>And then of course there is my pathological need to be the good girl, the responsible daughter/sister/wife/parter/mother who fulfills all expectations and never lets anyone down. I was a weird kid and didn’t know how not to be weird but I could be responsible. I could do chores and homework and follow rules and do what I was told and then maybe I would still be loved even if I was weird. How pathetic is that? I didn’t even realize this until I just wrote it down. I married the first man who asked me because marriage was expected in my community and I was made to feel strange and damaged and lucky that anyone asked at all. It turned out to be a highly abusive relationship in every possible sense but I stayed because the kids needed me and because that’s what good girls do. I stayed and I took it until it all fell apart and I realized I would end up as a photo on the front page of the local paper if I didn’t get out, and I could at least get my youngest to a safer place for her high school years even if I couldn’t save them all.</p><p></p><p>And now I am trapped in the role of the good mother, still. Sometimes I feel like it is a life sentence.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I am crying as I read this because no one ever said this to me before. And I never said it to myself.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes. To enter the chaos they live in, or allow it to enter my life, is re-exposing myself to trauma. Putting myself back into all those years of chaos and pain. Hoping that if I can just be good enough this time I can stop it all.</p><p></p><p>And I can’t. I don’t know if their issues are roooted in childhood trauma or brain chemicals or DNA or some toxic combination of all of the above but I can’t fix it. There are moments of heartbreaking clarity from them where I think maybe I can get through, maybe this time will be different. But then...we’re back on the same old merry-go-round.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Oh Leafy this is so exactly right. That is exactly how both S and C think. I’m a sucker for working so hard and living a conventional life. They don’t want to work for the man and be part of the establishment. Normal is boring. It lacks poetry, or passion, or coolness, or something. They idolize beat poets and angsty b-list rockers and others living life on the fringes because that’s real, man. That’s deep. </p><p></p><p>And yet they don’t mind taking money from us suckers earning it working for the man. Funny how that works.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes! They have the worst run of bad luck you ever heard of. And some of it really is bad luck. I know he didn’t ask to get hit by a car. But the way he lives leaves him vulnerable to bad things happening over and over again. Getting screwed over by sketchy roommates. Having stuff stolen. Getting in accidents. Yeah, bad stuff happens to all of us on occasion, but when you’re living a boring conventional life a lot of that is mitigated. Or you have the social and financial resources to deal with it. For them, it’s like they are living on the train tracks, and wondering why they keep getting hit by the train over and over again.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I love this. It’s not mine to wear!</p><p></p><p>Sometimes I do feel like I have to wear my children’s shortcomings like a scarlet letter. Because how can their choices and lifestyle not reflect on me as a mother? I look around at other people I know whose families and grown children look so perfect. I’m sure they have struggles too. But not like this. There is a shame that comes with saying, my child is an addict. My child is in jail. My child has violent rages. I am slowly learning to let go of that shame.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>This is both true and heartbreaking. It is a hard place to come to.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>No, of course we would not. My partner did not sign up for this and it wouldn’t be fair to her. And it wouldn’t be fair to me either. We have worked so hard to build this sanctuary together. It truly is the first place i have ever felt fully at peace and at home in my entire life. And haven’t I served my time already? Don’t I deserve to have peace at this stage of my life?</p><p></p><p>My son is a sweet, vulnerable, smart, instrospective man. He is also an alcoholic prone to alcoholic rages. And a profoundly irresponsible man who can’t seem to think ahead for his future. He’ll give his last dollar to a friend or another homeless man, because he is kind. Then he’ll turn around and ask for money, because he puts no thought into what he will need for himself tomorrow.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yep. This is exactly right. If he is here, it will work as long as I let it work -but there will be no steps taken towards more self sufficiency tomorrow. It’s just another stop on the hobo circuit. I’d have to kick him out eventually and more likely than not he’ll be in the exact same place he is now. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I need to print this out in foot high letters and hang it on the wall. Seriously. I need to look at this every day. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Thank you. Yes. I am almost 50 years old and experiencing peace and contentment for the first time in my life. Finally being fully myself for the first time. In a happy peaceful supportive relationship for the first time. In a place where I’m not walking on eggshells 24/7 for the first time. And I do deserve this. It’s ok to enjoy it, and protect it. </p><p></p><p>They are adults and no longer entitled to the fruits of my labors. Short of profound developmental disabilities, we are not meant to support our children our whole lives. </p><p></p><p>And we have to conserve our resources for our own needs and our old age. Because lord knows these children aren’t going to be in a position to care for us if we don’t. </p><p></p><p>I have to remind myself that even the bad luck they keep having is a result of the choices they have made and are continuing to make. That they do have the ability to jump off the merry-go-round if they want to. </p><p></p><p>I am going to make some tea, feed all the animals, and try to get focused for the day. Working from home, I find it hard sometimes to stay on task with all this buzzing in the background. But I have to. I can’t let their train wrecks keep derailing me. So ...deep breath, and back to my own reality.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Elsi, post: 740151, member: 23349"] Thank you, thank you, thank you all. I am reading and rereading your words this morning. I will be reading them many times again. Copa, thank you for your raw honesty and vulnerability here. I think most of us here have been in similar places, where we have reacted by instinct rather than responded with logic. My children have witnessed me melt down from frustration or totally lose it. I don’t do that any more. But I don’t do that any more because I am in a safe place where I can retreat and recover and get ahold of myself. And if I give up that safe space, I won’t be able to be the strong calm one anymore. And you’ve correctly identified that the roots of our pathological need to save our children comes from our own childhood and our own sense of self. I have been thinking a lot about these root causes lately. My father, who was probably also on the spectrum somewhere as well as bipolar, was the only person in my childhood who ‘got’ me, and he committed suicide when I was 12. I was the last person he talked to. He gave me his beloved guitar. I have questioned ever since why I didn’t see it coming and whether there was anything I could have done to stop it. It’s always in my head when I hear the despair in my children’s voices. And then of course there is my pathological need to be the good girl, the responsible daughter/sister/wife/parter/mother who fulfills all expectations and never lets anyone down. I was a weird kid and didn’t know how not to be weird but I could be responsible. I could do chores and homework and follow rules and do what I was told and then maybe I would still be loved even if I was weird. How pathetic is that? I didn’t even realize this until I just wrote it down. I married the first man who asked me because marriage was expected in my community and I was made to feel strange and damaged and lucky that anyone asked at all. It turned out to be a highly abusive relationship in every possible sense but I stayed because the kids needed me and because that’s what good girls do. I stayed and I took it until it all fell apart and I realized I would end up as a photo on the front page of the local paper if I didn’t get out, and I could at least get my youngest to a safer place for her high school years even if I couldn’t save them all. And now I am trapped in the role of the good mother, still. Sometimes I feel like it is a life sentence. I am crying as I read this because no one ever said this to me before. And I never said it to myself. Yes. To enter the chaos they live in, or allow it to enter my life, is re-exposing myself to trauma. Putting myself back into all those years of chaos and pain. Hoping that if I can just be good enough this time I can stop it all. And I can’t. I don’t know if their issues are roooted in childhood trauma or brain chemicals or DNA or some toxic combination of all of the above but I can’t fix it. There are moments of heartbreaking clarity from them where I think maybe I can get through, maybe this time will be different. But then...we’re back on the same old merry-go-round. Oh Leafy this is so exactly right. That is exactly how both S and C think. I’m a sucker for working so hard and living a conventional life. They don’t want to work for the man and be part of the establishment. Normal is boring. It lacks poetry, or passion, or coolness, or something. They idolize beat poets and angsty b-list rockers and others living life on the fringes because that’s real, man. That’s deep. And yet they don’t mind taking money from us suckers earning it working for the man. Funny how that works. Yes! They have the worst run of bad luck you ever heard of. And some of it really is bad luck. I know he didn’t ask to get hit by a car. But the way he lives leaves him vulnerable to bad things happening over and over again. Getting screwed over by sketchy roommates. Having stuff stolen. Getting in accidents. Yeah, bad stuff happens to all of us on occasion, but when you’re living a boring conventional life a lot of that is mitigated. Or you have the social and financial resources to deal with it. For them, it’s like they are living on the train tracks, and wondering why they keep getting hit by the train over and over again. I love this. It’s not mine to wear! Sometimes I do feel like I have to wear my children’s shortcomings like a scarlet letter. Because how can their choices and lifestyle not reflect on me as a mother? I look around at other people I know whose families and grown children look so perfect. I’m sure they have struggles too. But not like this. There is a shame that comes with saying, my child is an addict. My child is in jail. My child has violent rages. I am slowly learning to let go of that shame. This is both true and heartbreaking. It is a hard place to come to. No, of course we would not. My partner did not sign up for this and it wouldn’t be fair to her. And it wouldn’t be fair to me either. We have worked so hard to build this sanctuary together. It truly is the first place i have ever felt fully at peace and at home in my entire life. And haven’t I served my time already? Don’t I deserve to have peace at this stage of my life? My son is a sweet, vulnerable, smart, instrospective man. He is also an alcoholic prone to alcoholic rages. And a profoundly irresponsible man who can’t seem to think ahead for his future. He’ll give his last dollar to a friend or another homeless man, because he is kind. Then he’ll turn around and ask for money, because he puts no thought into what he will need for himself tomorrow. Yep. This is exactly right. If he is here, it will work as long as I let it work -but there will be no steps taken towards more self sufficiency tomorrow. It’s just another stop on the hobo circuit. I’d have to kick him out eventually and more likely than not he’ll be in the exact same place he is now. I need to print this out in foot high letters and hang it on the wall. Seriously. I need to look at this every day. Thank you. Yes. I am almost 50 years old and experiencing peace and contentment for the first time in my life. Finally being fully myself for the first time. In a happy peaceful supportive relationship for the first time. In a place where I’m not walking on eggshells 24/7 for the first time. And I do deserve this. It’s ok to enjoy it, and protect it. They are adults and no longer entitled to the fruits of my labors. Short of profound developmental disabilities, we are not meant to support our children our whole lives. And we have to conserve our resources for our own needs and our old age. Because lord knows these children aren’t going to be in a position to care for us if we don’t. I have to remind myself that even the bad luck they keep having is a result of the choices they have made and are continuing to make. That they do have the ability to jump off the merry-go-round if they want to. I am going to make some tea, feed all the animals, and try to get focused for the day. Working from home, I find it hard sometimes to stay on task with all this buzzing in the background. But I have to. I can’t let their train wrecks keep derailing me. So ...deep breath, and back to my own reality. [/QUOTE]
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