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Relationship Patterns / Dysfunctional FOO Issues
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 671154" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Over 6 years, a few times. The first time was momentous. He used to drink. He had stopped drinking for 19 years, and when he was in this country, he started drinking beer again. When we got together he pretty much stopped. </p><p></p><p>He is very vulnerable to his children. Something happened. A phone call. He drank a few beers. Alcohol is very toxic to him. </p><p></p><p>He was supposed to pick me up at a prison about 45 minutes from us. He knew he should not drive so he went to get a friend to drive with him. The "friend" had had some beer, too. When I got into the car I did not immediately know anything was wrong. </p><p></p><p>The road is in the mountains and is curvy. When I realized M had been drinking, I reacted. I do not know how I felt or why, I knew that it was wrong what had happened. To me, it was wrong. He had a responsibility to pick me up. He had entered prison grounds mildly intoxicated. He had allowed somebody who had been drinking to drive me. That was not what I expected from him.</p><p></p><p>I began to demand to be let out of the car on the highway. M refused. I began to scream louder. Demanding to be let out. On the highway. I began to denounce both of them calling them every word I could think of. I began to open the car doors. M slapped my face. He was trying to subdue me and to respond to the insults and what he perceived as my hysteria. I was not hysterical. I was furious. I continued. Worse. (This is very hard to write.)</p><p></p><p>He slapped my face again. I told him that if he did not let me out of the car it was kidnapping. </p><p></p><p>He did. I crossed the highway on a curve. It was very, very dangerous. I could care less. He followed me. The car was left at the side of the road. Remember, this was a mountain road. There was not much there. Cars and trucks whizzed by. I walked along the side of the highway to a gas station that I knew was there. I did not know what to do. Incredibly, an acquaintance drove by. He had seen my car in the road and knew something was off. He drove me home. </p><p></p><p>Eventually, M came home. I do not remember when. He was completely abject. Profoundly apologetic. He said nothing like that had ever happened to him before in his life. He never drank again. That was about 5 years ago.</p><p></p><p>As I write this I am thinking about my Mother. When she was at the board and care place, she was desperately unhappy (she was also, dying, but I did not know that.) We had found an adult activities program. While at my house we had visited together, and all loved it. They adored her. She was all decked out in her Uggs, a gorgeous denim jacket I had bought her with rhinestones all over it and the cutest empire waist tee shirt dress. She had gotten so tiny I was able to buy size 14 in girls. (That greatly expanded the fashion potential.) I did her makeup. My mother was a beautiful woman. How she loved the attention.</p><p></p><p>She had already begun falling apart. Screaming. When the van to take her to the program came for her the first morning, sh began to scream that they were kidnapping her and that she would call Adult Protective Services. My mother was very feisty and in command as a person.</p><p></p><p>They had to turn back and bring her back to the board and care home. I was so disappointed and sad. </p><p></p><p>She had protected herself in her own mind...and denied herself this wonderful opportunity. </p><p></p><p>I do not know how this story relates to my own.</p><p></p><p>There is something in my mother and I--a bottom line. Now, it must be said that my mother never, ever defended me--with her children she did not have a bottom line. She never felt the call to defend her daughter. Even when she was responsible to do so.</p><p></p><p>But there is something in me. And there was something in her, that refuses to go quietly, to succumb control over self, to another. </p><p></p><p>This and a million other things makes me sure that if ever confronted with true evil, I will not go quietly. </p><p></p><p>The thing is it is not always clear how to distinguish. In the case of my mother in the van, that quality did not serve her.</p><p></p><p>You ask if he has done something like this before.</p><p></p><p>A few months ago M followed me in the hall. I felt he put his hand on my head in anger. He says he was protecting me from falling. This very much affected me because my stepfather when I was about 15 had hit me in the head from behind in a hallway banging my head against the wall. There is no way he was protecting me. </p><p></p><p>It is very hard to write this.</p><p>New Leaf, he does not see me making strides. He sees the cup half empty. He sees all the way I am stuck. He sees me wasting my time doing destructive things. He sees the computer as an enemy. He sees my buying not as trying to flesh out in a material way who I am, but as completely self-destructive. </p><p></p><p>He must see my desire for autonomy as something completely unfathomable.</p><p>I do not think he thinks I am changing. Although I am.</p><p>But the new me has not been manifest. </p><p></p><p>He sees me as having been previously strong and capable and having lost my mojo. Remember, he has seen me go to work in the fiercest of prisons throughout my state. He has seen me fly off alone to Rio several times, alone. He saw me handle my sister and the illness of my mother. He saw me handle the legal ramifications and best my law professor sister.</p><p></p><p>I do not think he sees my fledgling steps as success or change or capacity of any sort.</p><p></p><p>I agree with your interpretation, I just do not see that he sees me improving or emancipating.</p><p></p><p>Again, I think this is true, in theory. But in reality, he sees me still stagnating.</p><p></p><p>I agree, Cedar. But it is complex.</p><p></p><p>M is an enigma in many ways. He had a passive but strong mother and an abusive father. To survive in his work he developed a somewhat passive and accommodating attitude. <em>That is what I knew first.</em> With a strength of character. </p><p></p><p>I think what I responded to first in him <em>was as a loving and strong parent.</em> *OK, now I am getting to where you want me to go, Cedar.</p><p>I am completely in agreement, Cedar.</p><p>Thank you, Cedar. You cannot imagine how helpful this is. </p><p></p><p>I woke up bereft. To be able to hold faith with myself, makes all the difference. I do not have to abandon myself. I can be OK. You cannot imagine the actual solace this gives me.</p><p>I am really liking being Germany. I am stunned by that. I am turning into Andrea Merkel. Who knew? I like it.</p><p></p><p>So, I just stay cool. Not go anywhere. (I mean, in myself.) Stay present. Do not write a story. Just stay open.</p><p></p><p> You know, I do not think that M's sister is necessarily supportive of our relationship. She likes me. But I do not necessarily think that she supports his staying with me. M does not listen to her. He tells her. He has told her that he is committed to me. She told me that. <em>But I do not think if she could write his story he would stay with me. </em>I think his mother have M stay with me, though.</p><p></p><p>Last night and this morning I was ready to think about life without him. And how I would do it and what I would do. I think this is important to envision. </p><p></p><p>Cedar, at what point in your lives did this happen? Like how many years ago? At what point were you with your children? With your family?</p><p>I think this is true to this extent: We have been planning to go east <em>for about a year and a half</em>. What has held us up is <em>me</em>. I think he feels that his life is on hold. Because of me. And this is true to a large extent.</p><p></p><p>There is also the dynamics of the other house. He is working hard. He is in pain from crooking his neck to repair the old ceiling plaster. He feels put upon. He owns no interest in that house, but he will benefit from it. Our interactions are very difficult around issues of finance and the differential in control. For each of us and for both of us together. He is in a conflict. He knows it is the right thing to do the work. But he resents that I am not with him doing it too. And at the same time he knows there are things I must do for myself. And that I will not be all that much help to him. </p><p></p><p>And the printer was connected to the computer. And he sees the computer as the root of all evil in my life. Buying stuff. Clicking.</p><p></p><p>I think this is true. I think he has tried to be patient with my various incapacities. And fails, sometimes.</p><p></p><p>This is true.</p><p></p><p>I am feeling sad, Feeling Sad. </p><p></p><p>I think that there is no solution, right now. The ball is in his court. </p><p></p><p>I am not so sure that he won't decide to leave me. But this is something I have to face. I could not and would not accept what happened. I had to stop it. </p><p></p><p>I will have to just get through it. </p><p></p><p>I did not fall in love with M. There was no sense ever of losing control. Of fear. That had always been present before. What I felt was drawn to him. I felt safety. I felt protected. I felt somebody at my side, on my side. </p><p></p><p>I had never felt this really with anybody before. Even with my parents.</p><p></p><p>Thank you very much. I am so grateful to not be alone.</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 671154, member: 18958"] Over 6 years, a few times. The first time was momentous. He used to drink. He had stopped drinking for 19 years, and when he was in this country, he started drinking beer again. When we got together he pretty much stopped. He is very vulnerable to his children. Something happened. A phone call. He drank a few beers. Alcohol is very toxic to him. He was supposed to pick me up at a prison about 45 minutes from us. He knew he should not drive so he went to get a friend to drive with him. The "friend" had had some beer, too. When I got into the car I did not immediately know anything was wrong. The road is in the mountains and is curvy. When I realized M had been drinking, I reacted. I do not know how I felt or why, I knew that it was wrong what had happened. To me, it was wrong. He had a responsibility to pick me up. He had entered prison grounds mildly intoxicated. He had allowed somebody who had been drinking to drive me. That was not what I expected from him. I began to demand to be let out of the car on the highway. M refused. I began to scream louder. Demanding to be let out. On the highway. I began to denounce both of them calling them every word I could think of. I began to open the car doors. M slapped my face. He was trying to subdue me and to respond to the insults and what he perceived as my hysteria. I was not hysterical. I was furious. I continued. Worse. (This is very hard to write.) He slapped my face again. I told him that if he did not let me out of the car it was kidnapping. He did. I crossed the highway on a curve. It was very, very dangerous. I could care less. He followed me. The car was left at the side of the road. Remember, this was a mountain road. There was not much there. Cars and trucks whizzed by. I walked along the side of the highway to a gas station that I knew was there. I did not know what to do. Incredibly, an acquaintance drove by. He had seen my car in the road and knew something was off. He drove me home. Eventually, M came home. I do not remember when. He was completely abject. Profoundly apologetic. He said nothing like that had ever happened to him before in his life. He never drank again. That was about 5 years ago. As I write this I am thinking about my Mother. When she was at the board and care place, she was desperately unhappy (she was also, dying, but I did not know that.) We had found an adult activities program. While at my house we had visited together, and all loved it. They adored her. She was all decked out in her Uggs, a gorgeous denim jacket I had bought her with rhinestones all over it and the cutest empire waist tee shirt dress. She had gotten so tiny I was able to buy size 14 in girls. (That greatly expanded the fashion potential.) I did her makeup. My mother was a beautiful woman. How she loved the attention. She had already begun falling apart. Screaming. When the van to take her to the program came for her the first morning, sh began to scream that they were kidnapping her and that she would call Adult Protective Services. My mother was very feisty and in command as a person. They had to turn back and bring her back to the board and care home. I was so disappointed and sad. She had protected herself in her own mind...and denied herself this wonderful opportunity. I do not know how this story relates to my own. There is something in my mother and I--a bottom line. Now, it must be said that my mother never, ever defended me--with her children she did not have a bottom line. She never felt the call to defend her daughter. Even when she was responsible to do so. But there is something in me. And there was something in her, that refuses to go quietly, to succumb control over self, to another. This and a million other things makes me sure that if ever confronted with true evil, I will not go quietly. The thing is it is not always clear how to distinguish. In the case of my mother in the van, that quality did not serve her. You ask if he has done something like this before. A few months ago M followed me in the hall. I felt he put his hand on my head in anger. He says he was protecting me from falling. This very much affected me because my stepfather when I was about 15 had hit me in the head from behind in a hallway banging my head against the wall. There is no way he was protecting me. It is very hard to write this. New Leaf, he does not see me making strides. He sees the cup half empty. He sees all the way I am stuck. He sees me wasting my time doing destructive things. He sees the computer as an enemy. He sees my buying not as trying to flesh out in a material way who I am, but as completely self-destructive. He must see my desire for autonomy as something completely unfathomable. I do not think he thinks I am changing. Although I am. But the new me has not been manifest. He sees me as having been previously strong and capable and having lost my mojo. Remember, he has seen me go to work in the fiercest of prisons throughout my state. He has seen me fly off alone to Rio several times, alone. He saw me handle my sister and the illness of my mother. He saw me handle the legal ramifications and best my law professor sister. I do not think he sees my fledgling steps as success or change or capacity of any sort. I agree with your interpretation, I just do not see that he sees me improving or emancipating. Again, I think this is true, in theory. But in reality, he sees me still stagnating. I agree, Cedar. But it is complex. M is an enigma in many ways. He had a passive but strong mother and an abusive father. To survive in his work he developed a somewhat passive and accommodating attitude. [I]That is what I knew first.[/I] With a strength of character. I think what I responded to first in him [I]was as a loving and strong parent.[/I] *OK, now I am getting to where you want me to go, Cedar. I am completely in agreement, Cedar. Thank you, Cedar. You cannot imagine how helpful this is. I woke up bereft. To be able to hold faith with myself, makes all the difference. I do not have to abandon myself. I can be OK. You cannot imagine the actual solace this gives me. I am really liking being Germany. I am stunned by that. I am turning into Andrea Merkel. Who knew? I like it. So, I just stay cool. Not go anywhere. (I mean, in myself.) Stay present. Do not write a story. Just stay open. You know, I do not think that M's sister is necessarily supportive of our relationship. She likes me. But I do not necessarily think that she supports his staying with me. M does not listen to her. He tells her. He has told her that he is committed to me. She told me that. [I]But I do not think if she could write his story he would stay with me. [/I]I think his mother have M stay with me, though. Last night and this morning I was ready to think about life without him. And how I would do it and what I would do. I think this is important to envision. Cedar, at what point in your lives did this happen? Like how many years ago? At what point were you with your children? With your family? I think this is true to this extent: We have been planning to go east [I]for about a year and a half[/I]. What has held us up is [I]me[/I]. I think he feels that his life is on hold. Because of me. And this is true to a large extent. There is also the dynamics of the other house. He is working hard. He is in pain from crooking his neck to repair the old ceiling plaster. He feels put upon. He owns no interest in that house, but he will benefit from it. Our interactions are very difficult around issues of finance and the differential in control. For each of us and for both of us together. He is in a conflict. He knows it is the right thing to do the work. But he resents that I am not with him doing it too. And at the same time he knows there are things I must do for myself. And that I will not be all that much help to him. And the printer was connected to the computer. And he sees the computer as the root of all evil in my life. Buying stuff. Clicking. I think this is true. I think he has tried to be patient with my various incapacities. And fails, sometimes. This is true. I am feeling sad, Feeling Sad. I think that there is no solution, right now. The ball is in his court. I am not so sure that he won't decide to leave me. But this is something I have to face. I could not and would not accept what happened. I had to stop it. I will have to just get through it. I did not fall in love with M. There was no sense ever of losing control. Of fear. That had always been present before. What I felt was drawn to him. I felt safety. I felt protected. I felt somebody at my side, on my side. I had never felt this really with anybody before. Even with my parents. Thank you very much. I am so grateful to not be alone. COPA [/QUOTE]
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