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Independence Day thoughts about difficult child
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<blockquote data-quote="scent of cedar" data-source="post: 600461" data-attributes="member: 1721"><p>Skotti, going through this with my daughter has taken me so near the edge of ~ I don't know how to describe it. This last business with the kids...I felt a coldness for her I have never felt, before. As time has passed, as my daughter's children have found safe haven, as they seem to have come to terms with what happened, if not why ~ I don't know. I seem to be entering this boundaryless place where there is nothing, no thinnest membrane, separating my daughter from me. Part of this feeling is knowing that I may lose her. In that knowledge, all resentment, all petty misunderstanding, seems to have vanished. Oh, I am still angry/confused/enraged/hopeful/hopeless...but I don't feel guilty, anymore. I don't feel that drive to change her. I can even see where, knowing something was not right with her, knowing something was "wrong" with her brain (as she so often told us)...this move home could even have been a last, maybe courageous, attempt to get with family and be safe ~ to be a safe mother, to become that person we all believed she was.</p><p></p><p>It's so sad, Skotti.</p><p></p><p>I believe your father must have come to that kind of peace, too. When you really are facing the probable death of your child, all that petty stuff is burnt away. The only thing left then is that you love her. You remember her as an infant, as a young girl. There is a deep, resonant sadness, ~ but all in all, I am so glad I knew my daughter, so glad, so really, truly glad she WAS my daughter, so glad my own life included hers.</p><p></p><p>I hope there is comfort for you in those thoughts, Skotti. If something should happen to me before my daughter comes to a place of stability, I would want her to know that she was worth every smallest discomfort, every wallop to the gut, every tear and endless night. I would want her to know that she had been cherished, every second of her life, that I was so glad she came into the world. That I came to realize the pain and rage and shame and fear ~ all that stuff was because I wanted her never to feel a moment's pain. </p><p></p><p>Your father loved you. Never doubt it. He would be so happy to know you have come to terms with your challenges, that your life is a happy, fulfilled self-creation.</p><p></p><p>He would not want you to experience a moment's pain on his behalf, Skotti.</p><p></p><p>That you survived, that you turned things around, that you are happy, would be a celebration for him.</p><p></p><p>Celebrate that with him.</p><p></p><p>It would mean everything in the world to him, to have known that one day, you would be happy. That you would have children, and grandchildren. He would be so touched that you came to realize how much you loved him. </p><p></p><p>He would want you to forgive yourself.</p><p></p><p>He would want you to be happy.</p><p></p><p>Imagine how you would feel if you could know that one of the children you have loved agonized over the pain she caused you. You would do everything in your power to set that child free.</p><p></p><p>I am sure your father would want you to forgive yourself for everything that happened, Skotti.</p><p></p><p>That is what I would want, from my daughter.</p><p></p><p>Your father loved you so much, Skotti. Remember that, and forgive and cherish yourself, for his sake.</p><p></p><p>Barbara</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="scent of cedar, post: 600461, member: 1721"] Skotti, going through this with my daughter has taken me so near the edge of ~ I don't know how to describe it. This last business with the kids...I felt a coldness for her I have never felt, before. As time has passed, as my daughter's children have found safe haven, as they seem to have come to terms with what happened, if not why ~ I don't know. I seem to be entering this boundaryless place where there is nothing, no thinnest membrane, separating my daughter from me. Part of this feeling is knowing that I may lose her. In that knowledge, all resentment, all petty misunderstanding, seems to have vanished. Oh, I am still angry/confused/enraged/hopeful/hopeless...but I don't feel guilty, anymore. I don't feel that drive to change her. I can even see where, knowing something was not right with her, knowing something was "wrong" with her brain (as she so often told us)...this move home could even have been a last, maybe courageous, attempt to get with family and be safe ~ to be a safe mother, to become that person we all believed she was. It's so sad, Skotti. I believe your father must have come to that kind of peace, too. When you really are facing the probable death of your child, all that petty stuff is burnt away. The only thing left then is that you love her. You remember her as an infant, as a young girl. There is a deep, resonant sadness, ~ but all in all, I am so glad I knew my daughter, so glad, so really, truly glad she WAS my daughter, so glad my own life included hers. I hope there is comfort for you in those thoughts, Skotti. If something should happen to me before my daughter comes to a place of stability, I would want her to know that she was worth every smallest discomfort, every wallop to the gut, every tear and endless night. I would want her to know that she had been cherished, every second of her life, that I was so glad she came into the world. That I came to realize the pain and rage and shame and fear ~ all that stuff was because I wanted her never to feel a moment's pain. Your father loved you. Never doubt it. He would be so happy to know you have come to terms with your challenges, that your life is a happy, fulfilled self-creation. He would not want you to experience a moment's pain on his behalf, Skotti. That you survived, that you turned things around, that you are happy, would be a celebration for him. Celebrate that with him. It would mean everything in the world to him, to have known that one day, you would be happy. That you would have children, and grandchildren. He would be so touched that you came to realize how much you loved him. He would want you to forgive yourself. He would want you to be happy. Imagine how you would feel if you could know that one of the children you have loved agonized over the pain she caused you. You would do everything in your power to set that child free. I am sure your father would want you to forgive yourself for everything that happened, Skotti. That is what I would want, from my daughter. Your father loved you so much, Skotti. Remember that, and forgive and cherish yourself, for his sake. Barbara [/QUOTE]
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