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Parent Emeritus
Now he is really gone.
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 679413" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>What is the determinant of whether this giving up becomes habitual becomes the course of the life in its dominant direction and aspect, and not a short and provisional detour?</p><p></p><p>What is the difference between us and the mother who took her own life? How does one person have the strength to survive and thrive and the other not?</p><p></p><p>My father died in squalor. His own mess of a life. I must be like him. In some way. Why did I fight so hard to survive, to make something of myself, if not because I knew somewhere I was like him?</p><p></p><p>And now with my own son living and being as he is, this deep fear and dread, has become manifest. And now, even though each month I was doing better and better and more certain I would live, I am down again. This time in squalor with my father, not in grief and despair over my mother.</p><p></p><p>There comes a time when we can no longer fight against what is. Maybe my destiny is in the gutter of despair, too. While yesterday I would have written about choice, today I feel pulled down by currents that I have not the energy or will to fight.</p><p>Yes.</p><p></p><p>What is it that gave you the belief in yourself that you deserved to live?</p><p>Or, by this I am wondering if there was never a belief that you either could or deserved to go on, to live. At first it was only the commitment to try. Is that morality or is it hope? Or is it defiance?</p><p></p><p>Thank you for your post. It is beautiful</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 679413, member: 18958"] What is the determinant of whether this giving up becomes habitual becomes the course of the life in its dominant direction and aspect, and not a short and provisional detour? What is the difference between us and the mother who took her own life? How does one person have the strength to survive and thrive and the other not? My father died in squalor. His own mess of a life. I must be like him. In some way. Why did I fight so hard to survive, to make something of myself, if not because I knew somewhere I was like him? And now with my own son living and being as he is, this deep fear and dread, has become manifest. And now, even though each month I was doing better and better and more certain I would live, I am down again. This time in squalor with my father, not in grief and despair over my mother. There comes a time when we can no longer fight against what is. Maybe my destiny is in the gutter of despair, too. While yesterday I would have written about choice, today I feel pulled down by currents that I have not the energy or will to fight. Yes. What is it that gave you the belief in yourself that you deserved to live? Or, by this I am wondering if there was never a belief that you either could or deserved to go on, to live. At first it was only the commitment to try. Is that morality or is it hope? Or is it defiance? Thank you for your post. It is beautiful COPA [/QUOTE]
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