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Now he is really gone.
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 679411" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Not good, Albatross. Thank you for asking, but not good at all.</p><p></p><p>You may remember, that I am coming off a very long mourning of my mother's death and questioning my whole life, after my mother died. Since I joined CD I am better, every month or so, I am better. </p><p></p><p>There is so much that has been left undone in the over 3 years since I left work to take care of my mother, and that I did not do, when everything fell apart. And I did so much self-destructive stuff just to survive. I survived in bed those years buying stupid junk, I think to feel the endorphin spike by winning an auction or buying junk, only to have to deal with a houseful of junk that really I did not want or need.</p><p></p><p>It was the only way I did not feel never-ending despair. I think there was an element of self-destructiveness involved as well, that I undue and security or life-preserving or sustaining capacity I had. </p><p></p><p>In these last months sometimes I felt near-joy. </p><p></p><p>When my son comes back into the equation, I sink back into a morass. I eat badly. My mind and body feels like sludge, like I am polluted. I feel self-disgust. I am without hope <em>for myself. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p>Still I cannot separate myself from him, when he is in my town. If he is living a degraded and undisciplined life, I seem to have to live it vicariously with him, and feel it is as if I am the degraded, undisciplined one, who is falling, and falling.</p><p>And that is what I seem <em>unwilling</em>, not unable, to do.</p><p></p><p>It is like I am somebody who deserves to be wearing a hair shirt. I deserve to humiliate myself and suffer at my own hand.</p><p>Except I act like and feel like I am the one who has transgressed social mores.</p><p>But how? If I feel like I am the guilty and undeserving party here?</p><p></p><p>My son treats us so badly. He comes here, even for a few minutes, he does not flush the toilet. He lies. He blames us. Everything is our fault. He always expects us to give. If we do not give he takes. He leaves crxp at the sink, and his pan dirty at the stove. There seems to be no boundary that he will not transgress. And he leaves me feeling violated.</p><p></p><p>I feel like a victim of a crime, victimized by my own child.</p><p></p><p>And I know the prototype of this is what I felt by my own father. I felt transgressed, violated, sullied, degraded by my own father.</p><p></p><p>And now I feel the same way at the hands of my son. </p><p></p><p>I know it is my fault. It must be. If it were not, it would not have happened again. To me. </p><p></p><p>This is the aspect of all of this with my son that has been so horrible. If I did not deserve it, it would not be happening again. It must be me. </p><p></p><p>I must be the dirty, the undisciplined, the corrupt, the degraded one. </p><p></p><p>So I make myself such. I as if say<em> to myself: Look at me. I am the one who is bad. The bad one. It is my fault. All of it.</em></p><p>I do not want to self-destruct. I want to soar. </p><p></p><p>And here I am in bed again. Guilty.</p><p>While it is truly a tragedy that your beloved son before your eyes lost control over his prior self to the hallucinations, you have in your own memory the awareness of who he really is or was. </p><p></p><p>My son was a different kind of child, but as an adult he has manifested more and more a personality that is neither self-respecting or really, worthy of respect. While I pay lip-service to the fact that he has averted the worse outcomes that could have become reality, like jail, or hard drug addiction, he has not become a man like I would have wished he were. A mensch. My son is not a mensch.</p><p></p><p>He looks for the easy way. He takes advantage whenever he can. He sets low, very low standards for himself.</p><p>I agree. And I agree that as long as I take responsibility for the misdeeds, by punishing myself, disrespecting myself and sacrificing myself, I am feeling the reality for him. </p><p></p><p>I debase myself and remain housebound, brewing over with anger and hostility. How can this not confuse the situation? What am I modeling here? But I seem unable to help it. At least, as yet.</p><p>Of course you are right. </p><p></p><p>First, to demand self-respect. To demand self-care. To feel compassion for who I am. And not one of these I feel capable of. Today I feel like a sewer and a cesspool. While I can guess at the why's I seem unable to stop it.</p><p></p><p>I am so grateful to each of you for your care and your wisdom.</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 679411, member: 18958"] Not good, Albatross. Thank you for asking, but not good at all. You may remember, that I am coming off a very long mourning of my mother's death and questioning my whole life, after my mother died. Since I joined CD I am better, every month or so, I am better. There is so much that has been left undone in the over 3 years since I left work to take care of my mother, and that I did not do, when everything fell apart. And I did so much self-destructive stuff just to survive. I survived in bed those years buying stupid junk, I think to feel the endorphin spike by winning an auction or buying junk, only to have to deal with a houseful of junk that really I did not want or need. It was the only way I did not feel never-ending despair. I think there was an element of self-destructiveness involved as well, that I undue and security or life-preserving or sustaining capacity I had. In these last months sometimes I felt near-joy. When my son comes back into the equation, I sink back into a morass. I eat badly. My mind and body feels like sludge, like I am polluted. I feel self-disgust. I am without hope [I]for myself. [/I] Still I cannot separate myself from him, when he is in my town. If he is living a degraded and undisciplined life, I seem to have to live it vicariously with him, and feel it is as if I am the degraded, undisciplined one, who is falling, and falling. And that is what I seem [I]unwilling[/I], not unable, to do. It is like I am somebody who deserves to be wearing a hair shirt. I deserve to humiliate myself and suffer at my own hand. Except I act like and feel like I am the one who has transgressed social mores. But how? If I feel like I am the guilty and undeserving party here? My son treats us so badly. He comes here, even for a few minutes, he does not flush the toilet. He lies. He blames us. Everything is our fault. He always expects us to give. If we do not give he takes. He leaves crxp at the sink, and his pan dirty at the stove. There seems to be no boundary that he will not transgress. And he leaves me feeling violated. I feel like a victim of a crime, victimized by my own child. And I know the prototype of this is what I felt by my own father. I felt transgressed, violated, sullied, degraded by my own father. And now I feel the same way at the hands of my son. I know it is my fault. It must be. If it were not, it would not have happened again. To me. This is the aspect of all of this with my son that has been so horrible. If I did not deserve it, it would not be happening again. It must be me. I must be the dirty, the undisciplined, the corrupt, the degraded one. So I make myself such. I as if say[I] to myself: Look at me. I am the one who is bad. The bad one. It is my fault. All of it.[/I] I do not want to self-destruct. I want to soar. And here I am in bed again. Guilty. While it is truly a tragedy that your beloved son before your eyes lost control over his prior self to the hallucinations, you have in your own memory the awareness of who he really is or was. My son was a different kind of child, but as an adult he has manifested more and more a personality that is neither self-respecting or really, worthy of respect. While I pay lip-service to the fact that he has averted the worse outcomes that could have become reality, like jail, or hard drug addiction, he has not become a man like I would have wished he were. A mensch. My son is not a mensch. He looks for the easy way. He takes advantage whenever he can. He sets low, very low standards for himself. I agree. And I agree that as long as I take responsibility for the misdeeds, by punishing myself, disrespecting myself and sacrificing myself, I am feeling the reality for him. I debase myself and remain housebound, brewing over with anger and hostility. How can this not confuse the situation? What am I modeling here? But I seem unable to help it. At least, as yet. Of course you are right. First, to demand self-respect. To demand self-care. To feel compassion for who I am. And not one of these I feel capable of. Today I feel like a sewer and a cesspool. While I can guess at the why's I seem unable to stop it. I am so grateful to each of you for your care and your wisdom. COPA [/QUOTE]
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