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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 645638" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>That's snake mean.</p><p></p><p>Hateful and manipulative and designed to hurt you on so many levels. Have you been able to gain any kind of perspective, pasajes?</p><p></p><p>If your child believed any of this was true, he would be too ashamed to breathe a word of it out loud.</p><p></p><p>He did it to hurt you.</p><p></p><p>It's all so ugly.</p><p></p><p>I have been thinking lately that mine is an ugly, ugly story. It's been freeing. Strangely enough, putting an end to that neverending pretense that it was going to be okay took the vibrancy out of the shame, somehow. Or maybe, it is the guilt that doesn't cut as deeply anymore.</p><p></p><p>That started happening when I would find myself saying that mine had been an ugly story. Something in that phrase ("Mine has been an ugly story."), let me stop fighting the ugliness of the story. I was sad over many sharp things I remembered, but now I am no longer surprised by that sense of betrayal.</p><p></p><p>Mine is an ugly story.</p><p></p><p>But here I still am and somehow, in that admission that my story is ugly, I am free of it.</p><p></p><p>It just is what it is.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p></p><p>So how is it that any of us are still even functioning? We have been hurt so deeply, so unexpectedly and repeatedly, by our own children.</p><p></p><p>That's not supposed to happen.</p><p></p><p>That's like...people used to make really scary movies about children who were just bad. Remember, The Bad Seed? The whole horror turning point of that movie was that it was a child who was bad. Or those Stephen King movies about the children in the corn. Children are not supposed to turn on their parents, they are not supposed to do any of the things our children do.</p><p></p><p>We have lived that. We have lived the stuff they make horror movies out of.</p><p></p><p>Somehow, we go home, we go on with our lives, we go to work and make dinner and smile pleasantly at the therapists we know cannot help us.</p><p></p><p>Back when everything was starting to fall apart, one of our neighbors said he'd seen me driving and I hadn't even waved. The neighbor was teasing me about being stuck up. And all I could tell him was that I might have been crying, and hadn't seen him.</p><p></p><p>That was all I could think of to say.</p><p></p><p>I did my crying in the car, or in the bath tub. I could not risk thinking or talking about it in public, because once I started, I could not stop. I know now to call that feeling FOG. I did not know that, then.</p><p></p><p>There was such a disconnect between normal life where people laugh and tease one another and are happy to spot one another unexpectedly and what we were living with.</p><p></p><p>But nothing was funny to me for a very long time, when those things were happening to us.</p><p></p><p>I am sorry for the hurt of it, pasajes. You do not deserve to be talked to like that. No one deserves to be targeted and treated cruelly, but it is especially hurtful for mothers to be hurt the way so many of us have been hurt, by the children we carried and birthed and would literally give our lives for.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 645638, member: 17461"] That's snake mean. Hateful and manipulative and designed to hurt you on so many levels. Have you been able to gain any kind of perspective, pasajes? If your child believed any of this was true, he would be too ashamed to breathe a word of it out loud. He did it to hurt you. It's all so ugly. I have been thinking lately that mine is an ugly, ugly story. It's been freeing. Strangely enough, putting an end to that neverending pretense that it was going to be okay took the vibrancy out of the shame, somehow. Or maybe, it is the guilt that doesn't cut as deeply anymore. That started happening when I would find myself saying that mine had been an ugly story. Something in that phrase ("Mine has been an ugly story."), let me stop fighting the ugliness of the story. I was sad over many sharp things I remembered, but now I am no longer surprised by that sense of betrayal. Mine is an ugly story. But here I still am and somehow, in that admission that my story is ugly, I am free of it. It just is what it is. *** So how is it that any of us are still even functioning? We have been hurt so deeply, so unexpectedly and repeatedly, by our own children. That's not supposed to happen. That's like...people used to make really scary movies about children who were just bad. Remember, The Bad Seed? The whole horror turning point of that movie was that it was a child who was bad. Or those Stephen King movies about the children in the corn. Children are not supposed to turn on their parents, they are not supposed to do any of the things our children do. We have lived that. We have lived the stuff they make horror movies out of. Somehow, we go home, we go on with our lives, we go to work and make dinner and smile pleasantly at the therapists we know cannot help us. Back when everything was starting to fall apart, one of our neighbors said he'd seen me driving and I hadn't even waved. The neighbor was teasing me about being stuck up. And all I could tell him was that I might have been crying, and hadn't seen him. That was all I could think of to say. I did my crying in the car, or in the bath tub. I could not risk thinking or talking about it in public, because once I started, I could not stop. I know now to call that feeling FOG. I did not know that, then. There was such a disconnect between normal life where people laugh and tease one another and are happy to spot one another unexpectedly and what we were living with. But nothing was funny to me for a very long time, when those things were happening to us. I am sorry for the hurt of it, pasajes. You do not deserve to be talked to like that. No one deserves to be targeted and treated cruelly, but it is especially hurtful for mothers to be hurt the way so many of us have been hurt, by the children we carried and birthed and would literally give our lives for. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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