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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 657154" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Groomed, yes. Twisted and hurt and shamed into absorbing and accepting as valid invalid reflections of negative grandiosity: Yes. For me, that is true.</p><p></p><p>Why did you have to distance yourself from your abuser.... Because you had courage; because you were confused about what was real, and about what your role in whatever that was could possibly be. Because you were honest, and because you have integrity and because you refused to willingly interact with someone you love as much as you love her, your mother, in a way that was not real.</p><p></p><p>As usual, I know everything this morning again. Please excuse me.</p><p></p><p>"I cannot say normal...."</p><p></p><p>But can you say "courageous"? Can you imagine what it was to be us, to be what it is to be a young female on her own and without advice or compassion for herself or support in the societies we have created, where mysogyny is every woman's unspoken name? </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I did that. For sure, I did that all of my life from the time I was little and could not protect my (younger) sibs. Or myself, although I think that, unless we see our abusers abusing others that we are very certain do not deserve what is happening to them ~ unless we are given that small mercy of knowing the abuser is wrong, is evil, even ~ then I think we will have a harder time coming back from it. </p><p></p><p>Whose guilt was I carrying, and how did I happen to pick that up? I was protecting my mother (who could so easily do away with me altogether) from my (imagined) vengeance and rage and hatred for her, for who she was, for what she was intentionally doing to those I was supposed to protect, and to me. If I had taken after her ~ say I had attacked her with my teeth or something, back when I was a little girl of say, fifty pounds ~ then my mother could very well have taken me down ~ maybe forever. And if that had happened, then I would have known, for sure, that even the vengeance I believed in and harbored, and that was all I had to protect me from the unending chaos and hurt and fear ~ I would have had to face then, that this thing I had imagined was real, and was strong enough to make her stop, that thing, that lust of vengeance that was so awful a thing that I needed to protect her from it ~ I would have had to face it and to know, every time the monster was loose, that I had no protection. </p><p></p><p>Then, I would have had to acknowledge that I lived through all that in a truly defenseless position. That would have been too much vulnerability for a little girl or a little boy or even, as it turns out, for a sixty three year old grown up person to face without an adequate support system to hold me up when I was ugly or ashamed or guilty or cowardly or any of the other thousand obscenities that happen in situations like ours.</p><p></p><p>I needed something like us.</p><p></p><p>And here we are. And we are doing it ~ finding true compassion for ourselves, for those brave, terrified little children we were when the monster was loose.</p><p></p><p>Thank you.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>That's okay, Copa. It is what it is and we are done trying to patch everything up and make it look normal. What I can tell you that may be of some help is that I think we go too far in the opposite direction from what was done to us with our children. So, we loved them, not too much, but without a sense of discipline and expectation. It took me a very long time to be angry with my children about what they were doing to themselves.</p><p></p><p>It took a very long time more before I could even begin to see that I have <em>a right and an obligation</em> to be openly angry with them over what they have done, over how they are interacting with and responding to, me.</p><p></p><p>It was SWOT's post about abusive adult children. That is when, typical of me and maybe, of all people with savagely abusive pasts, I leaped first into the standing up part and then, figured out the why of it later.</p><p></p><p>I did this, the leaping into the standing up part, for both my son and myself. He needs a mother he can respect.</p><p></p><p>I needed to be that mother. And because I wasn't there yet, I stood up and came and posted here immediately.</p><p></p><p>And we got me through it, because here I am, today.</p><p></p><p>None of this is easy, Copa. You are (and this is a quote I got from somewhere, but I don't want to go look for it, now). You are fighting for your spirit, for your sanity, for your soul.</p><p></p><p>This matters.</p><p></p><p>For you and for your son too, it matters that you do this.</p><p></p><p>We are all doing this.</p><p></p><p>Hold on.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>True.</p><p></p><p>Copa's son may just be practicing his addiction. Or my son may have been tormenting me on purpose, too. (That is okay, baby. I am strong enough to do this and that means you are, too. Same bloodline.)</p><p></p><p>I see that I still feel quite protective where my son is concerned.</p><p></p><p>Good.</p><p></p><p>I like that about me.</p><p></p><p>I just don't want to enable. Since he will not ask for money regarding these issues he knows nothing about, I am probably okay to feel this way. </p><p></p><p>As long as I keep it secret from him.</p><p></p><p>He believes I am like, a biatch, now.</p><p></p><p>Good.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Copa?</p><p></p><p>Same bloodline.</p><p></p><p>Your son will be fine.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Why doesn't matter.</p><p></p><p>Whether she was sorry doesn't matter. That we be able to view our mothers with compassion. That matters. <em>For me. For my sake not hers. For me, for how I will put all this away, for how I will declare my name going forward, that I come to view my mother with compassion matters. </em>Because <em>she is my mother and for no other reason.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p>It's complicated. My mother / myself complicated.</p><p></p><p>I was thinking compassion for the male who beat my daughter, or for my sister, who stalked and hurt my child when she was already so broken. I do not have to find compassion for them.<em> That would be the job of my daughter, as she is the one who sustained the injury.</em></p><p></p><p>That is all I know, about that.</p><p></p><p>But I do know this about those two: <em>I see you. I will never believe in you, again.</em> That's a pretty big deal, for me to say that. To say someone is who they are and cannot change.</p><p></p><p>So maybe we are dealing with that vengeance place again.</p><p></p><p>For now, I am okay with that.</p><p></p><p>For now.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes!</p><p></p><p>At last.</p><p></p><p>Free of it.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 657154, member: 17461"] Groomed, yes. Twisted and hurt and shamed into absorbing and accepting as valid invalid reflections of negative grandiosity: Yes. For me, that is true. Why did you have to distance yourself from your abuser.... Because you had courage; because you were confused about what was real, and about what your role in whatever that was could possibly be. Because you were honest, and because you have integrity and because you refused to willingly interact with someone you love as much as you love her, your mother, in a way that was not real. As usual, I know everything this morning again. Please excuse me. "I cannot say normal...." But can you say "courageous"? Can you imagine what it was to be us, to be what it is to be a young female on her own and without advice or compassion for herself or support in the societies we have created, where mysogyny is every woman's unspoken name? I did that. For sure, I did that all of my life from the time I was little and could not protect my (younger) sibs. Or myself, although I think that, unless we see our abusers abusing others that we are very certain do not deserve what is happening to them ~ unless we are given that small mercy of knowing the abuser is wrong, is evil, even ~ then I think we will have a harder time coming back from it. Whose guilt was I carrying, and how did I happen to pick that up? I was protecting my mother (who could so easily do away with me altogether) from my (imagined) vengeance and rage and hatred for her, for who she was, for what she was intentionally doing to those I was supposed to protect, and to me. If I had taken after her ~ say I had attacked her with my teeth or something, back when I was a little girl of say, fifty pounds ~ then my mother could very well have taken me down ~ maybe forever. And if that had happened, then I would have known, for sure, that even the vengeance I believed in and harbored, and that was all I had to protect me from the unending chaos and hurt and fear ~ I would have had to face then, that this thing I had imagined was real, and was strong enough to make her stop, that thing, that lust of vengeance that was so awful a thing that I needed to protect her from it ~ I would have had to face it and to know, every time the monster was loose, that I had no protection. Then, I would have had to acknowledge that I lived through all that in a truly defenseless position. That would have been too much vulnerability for a little girl or a little boy or even, as it turns out, for a sixty three year old grown up person to face without an adequate support system to hold me up when I was ugly or ashamed or guilty or cowardly or any of the other thousand obscenities that happen in situations like ours. I needed something like us. And here we are. And we are doing it ~ finding true compassion for ourselves, for those brave, terrified little children we were when the monster was loose. Thank you. That's okay, Copa. It is what it is and we are done trying to patch everything up and make it look normal. What I can tell you that may be of some help is that I think we go too far in the opposite direction from what was done to us with our children. So, we loved them, not too much, but without a sense of discipline and expectation. It took me a very long time to be angry with my children about what they were doing to themselves. It took a very long time more before I could even begin to see that I have [I]a right and an obligation[/I] to be openly angry with them over what they have done, over how they are interacting with and responding to, me. It was SWOT's post about abusive adult children. That is when, typical of me and maybe, of all people with savagely abusive pasts, I leaped first into the standing up part and then, figured out the why of it later. I did this, the leaping into the standing up part, for both my son and myself. He needs a mother he can respect. I needed to be that mother. And because I wasn't there yet, I stood up and came and posted here immediately. And we got me through it, because here I am, today. None of this is easy, Copa. You are (and this is a quote I got from somewhere, but I don't want to go look for it, now). You are fighting for your spirit, for your sanity, for your soul. This matters. For you and for your son too, it matters that you do this. We are all doing this. Hold on. True. Copa's son may just be practicing his addiction. Or my son may have been tormenting me on purpose, too. (That is okay, baby. I am strong enough to do this and that means you are, too. Same bloodline.) I see that I still feel quite protective where my son is concerned. Good. I like that about me. I just don't want to enable. Since he will not ask for money regarding these issues he knows nothing about, I am probably okay to feel this way. As long as I keep it secret from him. He believes I am like, a biatch, now. Good. Copa? Same bloodline. Your son will be fine. Why doesn't matter. Whether she was sorry doesn't matter. That we be able to view our mothers with compassion. That matters. [I]For me. For my sake not hers. For me, for how I will put all this away, for how I will declare my name going forward, that I come to view my mother with compassion matters. [/I]Because [I]she is my mother and for no other reason. [/I] It's complicated. My mother / myself complicated. [I][/I] I was thinking compassion for the male who beat my daughter, or for my sister, who stalked and hurt my child when she was already so broken. I do not have to find compassion for them.[I] That would be the job of my daughter, as she is the one who sustained the injury.[/I] That is all I know, about that. But I do know this about those two: [I]I see you. I will never believe in you, again.[/I] That's a pretty big deal, for me to say that. To say someone is who they are and cannot change. So maybe we are dealing with that vengeance place again. For now, I am okay with that. For now. Yes! At last. Free of it. :O) Cedar [/QUOTE]
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