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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 759537" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Dear Mouse</p><p></p><p>Many of us are in similar straits; terrified for our children who lack the capacity or will to keep themselves safe or to choose to live in ways that would help them be stable let alone protected. We have tried and tried to prop them up, set them straight, and guide them in the right direction. Doing this we have become distraught, spent, weary, desperate, and depressed. And still, our kids keep on keeping on. They go where their illnesses drive them which is typically to escape through drugs into a vagabond, exposed lifestyle.</p><p></p><p>We try with inconsistent results to keep ourselves safe, our attention diverted and our doors bolted. We alternate between grief and fear, and a sense of respite. We feel safe when we make distance from our beloved children. We feel peace when we are not preoccupied with endless worry. </p><p></p><p>At some point, we begin to accept. The raging boil of dread and fear becomes a low boil, and then in time a simmer. We can have longer and longer periods where we feel centered in our own lives and only briefly throughout the day, remember that our beloved children are out there. When I think of my son now it is involuntary with little pleasure, largely pain. The involuntary clutch of fear like when one hears a sound outside in the night; a quick falling within me, of alarm. Yet very quickly now I return to my center and try to put the thoughts and feelings back in their place.</p><p></p><p>All of the love is still there. Somewhere, too is hope. But the reality is pain, worry, and grief. And this I have to marginalize. </p><p></p><p>I have found acceptance. The hardest thing for me is how to think about my own life when 30 years of love and hope for my son has been its center. Quickly I put away thoughts like this because they are not helpful. I return to my own center, reminding myself that I am able to understand very little of the universe, and nothing about why things happen. I am here for only a very short time, and I am here to do my best and to find joy. That is all I know. I haven't found a better way to do this.</p><p></p><p>Welcome. I am glad you found us. I hope that you stay.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 759537, member: 18958"] Dear Mouse Many of us are in similar straits; terrified for our children who lack the capacity or will to keep themselves safe or to choose to live in ways that would help them be stable let alone protected. We have tried and tried to prop them up, set them straight, and guide them in the right direction. Doing this we have become distraught, spent, weary, desperate, and depressed. And still, our kids keep on keeping on. They go where their illnesses drive them which is typically to escape through drugs into a vagabond, exposed lifestyle. We try with inconsistent results to keep ourselves safe, our attention diverted and our doors bolted. We alternate between grief and fear, and a sense of respite. We feel safe when we make distance from our beloved children. We feel peace when we are not preoccupied with endless worry. At some point, we begin to accept. The raging boil of dread and fear becomes a low boil, and then in time a simmer. We can have longer and longer periods where we feel centered in our own lives and only briefly throughout the day, remember that our beloved children are out there. When I think of my son now it is involuntary with little pleasure, largely pain. The involuntary clutch of fear like when one hears a sound outside in the night; a quick falling within me, of alarm. Yet very quickly now I return to my center and try to put the thoughts and feelings back in their place. All of the love is still there. Somewhere, too is hope. But the reality is pain, worry, and grief. And this I have to marginalize. I have found acceptance. The hardest thing for me is how to think about my own life when 30 years of love and hope for my son has been its center. Quickly I put away thoughts like this because they are not helpful. I return to my own center, reminding myself that I am able to understand very little of the universe, and nothing about why things happen. I am here for only a very short time, and I am here to do my best and to find joy. That is all I know. I haven't found a better way to do this. Welcome. I am glad you found us. I hope that you stay. [/QUOTE]
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