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Family of Origin
Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 657793" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Yes, they do that. But how could it possibly be that she felt she merited your compassion when she had given you none of her own?</p><p></p><p>Did our mothers never once put us first in their eyes and in their hearts? Could they only, always and forever, see what it was they needed?!?</p><p></p><p>Another observation: Given everything we all have gone through with our children...how is it we are not whining, not demanding that they see through our eyes and extend compassion to <em>us.</em> </p><p></p><p>Because we are not our mothers and our mothers were very wrong in what they did.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Me, too. It was an accident, every time she hurt me, every time she bled me, every time she shamed or counted coup. I am not so kind as you, Copa. My mother hurt me the way she did because she could. Because there was no one to protect any of us and she could. In that sense, my own brokenness was an impersonal series of meticulously planned incidents, almost of incidents planned with a kind of chilling, anonymous precision. But that is giving my abuser ~ any of them, any one in the long chain of hyenas come running at the scent of vulnerability, at the scent of blood in the water and a spirit in distress ~ too much credit. The ongoing complexity, the twisting intricacy of what happened to me when I was just a little girl, when I was a beautiful young woman, when I was a new mother ~ that was only possible for my abuser to accomplish because she had broken me, personally. It required no skill, no talent, to hurt a child into an adult who could not defend herself. Not from you, and not from anyone else.</p><p></p><p>Eye to eye; right up close. A polluted obscenity of the intimacy that is mother love.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>It was an obscenity, Copa. <em>No one has that right. Decency forbids it.</em> Everything that matters about how everything works, comes together, flowers and changes and grows ever more beautiful forbids it, Copa.</p><p></p><p>That is why we can heal it now.</p><p></p><p>They were wrong to do what they did. Wrong from the thing's inception.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>No. Not to have left scars at this level. Malicious intent.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>No, Copa. </p><p></p><p>Not yet.</p><p></p><p>Go back for them once you are through it.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I don't know Copa? But for my mother that was not so. I learned that in the WalMart / birthday party / sister dancing in the kitchen story. Obscene, the thing shining from her then, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Rotted, and slyly, coyly, clever.</p><p></p><p>And she thrives on it, and that is right where she wants to be; and it was never just me. It is everyone with whom she interacts. If you broaden your net, Copa...what were your mother's other relationships like? Loyal friend? Loyal over time, I mean? Loving wife, cherishing and respecting and being real with and to her mate?</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Her life did afford other options.</p><p></p><p>She chose this one.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>"Take the cannoli. Leave the gun."</p><p></p><p>That man was going home to his family. Business was business. That is the difference, the strange conundrum, of that lifestyle and those movies.</p><p></p><p>Right here with you, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 657793, member: 17461"] Yes, they do that. But how could it possibly be that she felt she merited your compassion when she had given you none of her own? Did our mothers never once put us first in their eyes and in their hearts? Could they only, always and forever, see what it was they needed?!? Another observation: Given everything we all have gone through with our children...how is it we are not whining, not demanding that they see through our eyes and extend compassion to [I]us.[/I] Because we are not our mothers and our mothers were very wrong in what they did. Me, too. It was an accident, every time she hurt me, every time she bled me, every time she shamed or counted coup. I am not so kind as you, Copa. My mother hurt me the way she did because she could. Because there was no one to protect any of us and she could. In that sense, my own brokenness was an impersonal series of meticulously planned incidents, almost of incidents planned with a kind of chilling, anonymous precision. But that is giving my abuser ~ any of them, any one in the long chain of hyenas come running at the scent of vulnerability, at the scent of blood in the water and a spirit in distress ~ too much credit. The ongoing complexity, the twisting intricacy of what happened to me when I was just a little girl, when I was a beautiful young woman, when I was a new mother ~ that was only possible for my abuser to accomplish because she had broken me, personally. It required no skill, no talent, to hurt a child into an adult who could not defend herself. Not from you, and not from anyone else. Eye to eye; right up close. A polluted obscenity of the intimacy that is mother love. It was an obscenity, Copa. [I]No one has that right. Decency forbids it.[/I] Everything that matters about how everything works, comes together, flowers and changes and grows ever more beautiful forbids it, Copa. That is why we can heal it now. They were wrong to do what they did. Wrong from the thing's inception. No. Not to have left scars at this level. Malicious intent. No, Copa. Not yet. Go back for them once you are through it. I don't know Copa? But for my mother that was not so. I learned that in the WalMart / birthday party / sister dancing in the kitchen story. Obscene, the thing shining from her then, Copa. Rotted, and slyly, coyly, clever. And she thrives on it, and that is right where she wants to be; and it was never just me. It is everyone with whom she interacts. If you broaden your net, Copa...what were your mother's other relationships like? Loyal friend? Loyal over time, I mean? Loving wife, cherishing and respecting and being real with and to her mate? Her life did afford other options. She chose this one. "Take the cannoli. Leave the gun." That man was going home to his family. Business was business. That is the difference, the strange conundrum, of that lifestyle and those movies. Right here with you, Copa. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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