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How to recover ourselves after difficult child-induced trauma?
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<blockquote data-quote="scent of cedar" data-source="post: 596750" data-attributes="member: 1721"><p>This imagery has me, today. There is something here about shame. About the things we teach ourselves about who and how we are in the world because </p><p>our children are in trouble. About the things we allow ourselves to believe we deserve. Health? Peace? Truly enjoying the beauty of a sunset or the feel of sand between our toes?</p><p></p><p>husband and I were on vacation one time. There was a caricaturist on the beach. Even in that caricature, I look sad, look bewildered. </p><p></p><p>Something about the eyes.</p><p></p><p>Photographs, same thing.</p><p></p><p>But here is the thing. difficult child challenges did not do that, to me. I am GREAT in a challenge. Like that little battery-run bunny in those commercials. </p><p></p><p>Seriously.</p><p></p><p>I must be picking around the edges of unraveling standing for myself, after all these years of guilt and shame and desperation and disbelief.</p><p></p><p>And of defending. </p><p></p><p>Years of defending the image of my children, of their futures, from the nasty, sneering pity, from the silent, unstated questions about how all this really happened, about what was wrong, about what must have really been going on, under that so-perfect façade of their childhoods, that my children were damaged.</p><p></p><p>But here's the thing. Those are actually MY questions. I must be projecting. (No. Other parents DO assume I am responsible. Just as they assume they are responsible for the performances of their so-wonderful children.) </p><p></p><p>And of course, I AM responsible. </p><p></p><p>When we brought difficult child to that first dual-diagnostic facility, all those years ago when this first started, this is what my mother said when I told her. The words "Mom, difficult child is in blah, blah, blah." were met, quick as a wink, with: (Insert sneer.) "Well, I guess you weren't such a good mother after all, were you."</p><p></p><p>And it wasn't a question.</p><p></p><p>Could that be the source of the conflict, here? The source of the drive to put things right? </p><p></p><p>Whatever.</p><p></p><p>I should have been able to walk right through that one.</p><p></p><p>But I still hear those words, that tone of voice, so clearly, today.</p><p></p><p>(She said, thanking God that this site is anonymous and wondering whether she could ever be traced by her first name.)</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Something is going on, here. I think I might be circling around the idea of letting go of making reparations for what has happened through ~ well, through wearing a hair shirt.</p><p></p><p>I never really got that imagery before, Recovering.</p><p></p><p>There can be all different kinds of hair shirts. I don't imagine any of them, however we fashion them for ourselves, is actually a solution.</p><p></p><p>It's more a way of proving we are sorry, of proving we did not intend this to happen.</p><p></p><p>But it makes us weak; leaves us vulnerable, encourages us to believe in our guilt, in our, however unintended, complicity.</p><p></p><p>Lately, I have begun to think that the best thing I can do for my children (and for myself) is to be healthy, and strong.</p><p></p><p>To make right and healthy choices, so that is their role model, their memory of their mother's truth, their understanding of who I was, of who I am.</p><p></p><p>Small steps.</p><p></p><p>Barbara</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="scent of cedar, post: 596750, member: 1721"] This imagery has me, today. There is something here about shame. About the things we teach ourselves about who and how we are in the world because our children are in trouble. About the things we allow ourselves to believe we deserve. Health? Peace? Truly enjoying the beauty of a sunset or the feel of sand between our toes? husband and I were on vacation one time. There was a caricaturist on the beach. Even in that caricature, I look sad, look bewildered. Something about the eyes. Photographs, same thing. But here is the thing. difficult child challenges did not do that, to me. I am GREAT in a challenge. Like that little battery-run bunny in those commercials. Seriously. I must be picking around the edges of unraveling standing for myself, after all these years of guilt and shame and desperation and disbelief. And of defending. Years of defending the image of my children, of their futures, from the nasty, sneering pity, from the silent, unstated questions about how all this really happened, about what was wrong, about what must have really been going on, under that so-perfect façade of their childhoods, that my children were damaged. But here's the thing. Those are actually MY questions. I must be projecting. (No. Other parents DO assume I am responsible. Just as they assume they are responsible for the performances of their so-wonderful children.) And of course, I AM responsible. When we brought difficult child to that first dual-diagnostic facility, all those years ago when this first started, this is what my mother said when I told her. The words "Mom, difficult child is in blah, blah, blah." were met, quick as a wink, with: (Insert sneer.) "Well, I guess you weren't such a good mother after all, were you." And it wasn't a question. Could that be the source of the conflict, here? The source of the drive to put things right? Whatever. I should have been able to walk right through that one. But I still hear those words, that tone of voice, so clearly, today. (She said, thanking God that this site is anonymous and wondering whether she could ever be traced by her first name.) :O) Something is going on, here. I think I might be circling around the idea of letting go of making reparations for what has happened through ~ well, through wearing a hair shirt. I never really got that imagery before, Recovering. There can be all different kinds of hair shirts. I don't imagine any of them, however we fashion them for ourselves, is actually a solution. It's more a way of proving we are sorry, of proving we did not intend this to happen. But it makes us weak; leaves us vulnerable, encourages us to believe in our guilt, in our, however unintended, complicity. Lately, I have begun to think that the best thing I can do for my children (and for myself) is to be healthy, and strong. To make right and healthy choices, so that is their role model, their memory of their mother's truth, their understanding of who I was, of who I am. Small steps. Barbara [/QUOTE]
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