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Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 705351" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Feeling. This is the saddest post you have written.</p><p></p><p>If I could turn off the way I feel right now I would. And I am only reading this post, not living it.</p><p></p><p>I die inside hearing about the darling potting shed where your children played. And your error, to ask "why?" To once ask why, and to one time step outside of your asylum and act, to save your son, yourself and to give your ill son a chance?</p><p></p><p>There is an element of cruelty here. The assumption that your role as martyr is so determined and circumscribed and set in stone, because you wanted to be a mother, because you for once would not tolerate your body being killed off, let alone your spirit.</p><p></p><p>The idea that you were supposed to be perfect. Perfectly supportive when your world was falling apart. Your son was falling to pieces, Feeling, what in the world were you supposed to do? Play some fake movie self? Your middle son it appears is almost as cruel to himself. Almost. I am sorry, Feeling. But tolerating this will not make it better.</p><p></p><p>I do not know what you are going to do. Your middle son is mistreating himself and you.</p><p></p><p>I envision you one of these days deciding to get angry. No longer at yourself but just howling. Getting howling mad. There was that movie years ago, where the main character, a newscaster rose up one day in front of the camera screaming: "I'm not going to take it anymore." And with that you will say, no more abuse. From myself or from anybody else.</p><p></p><p>This is going to take a decision, Feeling. A decision by you. Nobody is going to nor is capable of giving you permission, and nobody will.</p><p></p><p>I think you are getting close, Feeling.</p><p></p><p>Repeat after me: Chinese Crested.</p><p></p><p>On a happier note your elegantly served lunch in the classroom sounded like a blast. Thank G-d you have your work in which to demonstrate your true worth and be appreciated for it.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 705351, member: 18958"] Feeling. This is the saddest post you have written. If I could turn off the way I feel right now I would. And I am only reading this post, not living it. I die inside hearing about the darling potting shed where your children played. And your error, to ask "why?" To once ask why, and to one time step outside of your asylum and act, to save your son, yourself and to give your ill son a chance? There is an element of cruelty here. The assumption that your role as martyr is so determined and circumscribed and set in stone, because you wanted to be a mother, because you for once would not tolerate your body being killed off, let alone your spirit. The idea that you were supposed to be perfect. Perfectly supportive when your world was falling apart. Your son was falling to pieces, Feeling, what in the world were you supposed to do? Play some fake movie self? Your middle son it appears is almost as cruel to himself. Almost. I am sorry, Feeling. But tolerating this will not make it better. I do not know what you are going to do. Your middle son is mistreating himself and you. I envision you one of these days deciding to get angry. No longer at yourself but just howling. Getting howling mad. There was that movie years ago, where the main character, a newscaster rose up one day in front of the camera screaming: "I'm not going to take it anymore." And with that you will say, no more abuse. From myself or from anybody else. This is going to take a decision, Feeling. A decision by you. Nobody is going to nor is capable of giving you permission, and nobody will. I think you are getting close, Feeling. Repeat after me: Chinese Crested. On a happier note your elegantly served lunch in the classroom sounded like a blast. Thank G-d you have your work in which to demonstrate your true worth and be appreciated for it. [/QUOTE]
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