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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 619429" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>The thing that happens over time, the thing Dr Phil either doesn't understand or cannot say on the air because it would not make good television, is that the kids' repetitious dramas take over and use up our lives. It seems never to end. Nothing we try helps. We pull out all the stops to help the kids every time. </p><p></p><p>And it keeps happening, and the next crisis is even worse. </p><p></p><p>Everything we've worked for ~ peace, financial security, the joy of family ~ everything comes to be held hostage to the senseless chaos of our adult child's lifestyle and choices.</p><p></p><p>There comes a time, sooner for some, later for others, that we go looking for a better way. We find we have spent our lives in a state of anxious depression over the life choices of a grown child. One day, we get it. The child is an adult man, an adult woman.</p><p></p><p>My kids are nearing forty. </p><p></p><p>And here I am, still trying to figure things out.</p><p></p><p>We realize that maybe, if we had let them taste the consequences of their actions when they were younger and the consequences were smaller, they might not be where they are in their lives, today.</p><p></p><p>The things Dr. Phil is suggesting have not worked, for our kids. But there are those who have successfully detached and who find that, once they do reclaim the right to their own lives and time and joy?</p><p></p><p>The kids, at long last, pick up.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, it comes to matter less whether the kids pick up than it does that we come back to life, ourselves.</p><p></p><p>Suffering over a child seemingly determined to self destruct is an endlessly complex kind of horror. We love them, we feel somehow responsible, we see and learn about things never even imagined as we follow them down that rabbit hole.</p><p></p><p>One day, we declare our independence from those feelings. We get the connection between helping the kids and helping them to self destruct. We stop helping. Soon after, we refuse to be forced into taking any part in what they seem determined to do to themselves, anymore.</p><p></p><p>It is so sad.</p><p></p><p>There doesn't seem to be an alternative.</p><p></p><p>We all know of eighty year old parents taking care of (and often, being abused by) 60 year old "children."</p><p></p><p>It comes not to matter why this happened. </p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 619429, member: 17461"] The thing that happens over time, the thing Dr Phil either doesn't understand or cannot say on the air because it would not make good television, is that the kids' repetitious dramas take over and use up our lives. It seems never to end. Nothing we try helps. We pull out all the stops to help the kids every time. And it keeps happening, and the next crisis is even worse. Everything we've worked for ~ peace, financial security, the joy of family ~ everything comes to be held hostage to the senseless chaos of our adult child's lifestyle and choices. There comes a time, sooner for some, later for others, that we go looking for a better way. We find we have spent our lives in a state of anxious depression over the life choices of a grown child. One day, we get it. The child is an adult man, an adult woman. My kids are nearing forty. And here I am, still trying to figure things out. We realize that maybe, if we had let them taste the consequences of their actions when they were younger and the consequences were smaller, they might not be where they are in their lives, today. The things Dr. Phil is suggesting have not worked, for our kids. But there are those who have successfully detached and who find that, once they do reclaim the right to their own lives and time and joy? The kids, at long last, pick up. Eventually, it comes to matter less whether the kids pick up than it does that we come back to life, ourselves. Suffering over a child seemingly determined to self destruct is an endlessly complex kind of horror. We love them, we feel somehow responsible, we see and learn about things never even imagined as we follow them down that rabbit hole. One day, we declare our independence from those feelings. We get the connection between helping the kids and helping them to self destruct. We stop helping. Soon after, we refuse to be forced into taking any part in what they seem determined to do to themselves, anymore. It is so sad. There doesn't seem to be an alternative. We all know of eighty year old parents taking care of (and often, being abused by) 60 year old "children." It comes not to matter why this happened. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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