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What's happening to me in detachment...
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<blockquote data-quote="Childofmine" data-source="post: 622059" data-attributes="member: 17542"><p>Both a nap and a trip have been my top two go-to self-care treatments for several years. </p><p></p><p>Working out of my home, I can get pretty stir-crazy and way too much inside my own head some days. I used to feel like a sitting duck for my son when he was in town. I was here, and he knew how to get here, and he would just show up. I felt so exposed and so vulnerable because before I laid down my boundaries like I did a few weeks ago, I couldn't protect myself emotionally from him. </p><p></p><p>I am grateful that he is respecting my boundaries....or is it, RE, that I'm not giving him what he wants so he has no need of me now? Who knows what his motives are? I don't really need to know or spend any time on that. </p><p></p><p>Just getting away---whether it's for a nap for an hour---or for a day, like you do, RE, is like a strong tonic. It <strong>does</strong> make things bearable. There are so many "little" and big things we can do for our own self-care. Once we are tired of crying and sitting and staring and hiding under the covers---completely spent from the assault of this---we can being to think about self-care and just starting on that road pays such dividends that we want to do it more and more. We CAN survive this, RE. I don't know how we are doing it sometimes, but we ARE. By the grace of God, I believe. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes. Isn't it amazing how much we have changed? We, who in the past, would have huddled in the house, waiting, then driving the streets, calling friends, sitting by the phone, pacing, crying, raging with our pain and our fear and our deep grief? We can now go to a street fair. There are many who won't and can't understand that. Because they have not lived under constant assault for such a long time, like we on this board have. The way I see it---we have two choices---we can continue and we will crumple under the weight and the pain and the pressure. We will be so shell-shocked. We will be like the walking dead as we enable and enable and enable, hoping and praying and giving, believing that our deep, profound love for our adult children will conquer all...because doesn't love conquer all? </p><p></p><p>I think we all know that love is never enough. Many of us have learned that in our primary spousal relationships. We have been shown that it takes more than just love---although love is essential and perhaps the most important ingredient---but it also takes trust, respect, compromise, kindness and so many other qualities. </p><p></p><p>If love was enough, it would have already happened, this miracle we are all still hoping for. Because we have surely loved enough.</p><p></p><p>Or...we can look for a new way, RE. We can decide that while we <strong>almost</strong> cannot bear the pain of what is happening with our precious adult children, we can. This pain, that never seems to stop, takes us to the very edge of life itself. As many have posted on this board, they didn't want to live, for a time. If our children cannot have a life, then we don't want one either. </p><p></p><p>Years ago, when my sister was dying, I did that. I was 28 years old, and had been married for five years. We hadn't had children yet. We both were working professionals and lived in the same city as my sister and my parents and my adult siblings. All of a sudden (it seemed), I could barely function. I would go to work and then come home and lie on the bed and cry and cry and cry. I was despondent. </p><p></p><p>I thought it was my marriage and so we went for counseling. After an hour, the counselor said he wanted to see us separately for a while, me first. At our first session, he told me I was experiencing anticipatory grief. I guess it was crystal clear to him what was going on, but it sure wasn't to me. I had never even heard of anticipatory grief. I didn't know what he was talking about. </p><p></p><p>But I kept going to the appointments with him. Much of the time, I would just sit there and cry for the hour, as I remember it now. I remember telling him that I didn't want to live in a world without her. I couldn't imagine losing her. </p><p></p><p>Finally, one day something he said broke through to me. He said, Are there other people in your life that you love and care about like you do Susan? I said, of course. He said, well, what about living for them? For some reason, I heard that. It was like a thunderbolt. And that was a turning point for me. </p><p></p><p>He also cautioned me that when she did die, I might actually recover from my grief faster than others and not to be surprised by that. And he was right. Of course, I was distraught when she died. </p><p></p><p>As the oldest of four, I helped take care of her a lot. While I am sure my feelings for her were very different from my parents', there were very strong connections. In fact, I hadn't even felt a desire or need for my own children, because I believe much of my nurturing and caretaking instincts and needs were being satisfied in my relationship with her. </p><p></p><p>Thinking back now, that experience...so fundamental for me...has helped me with my son. It helps me see one of the reasons I knew how to caretake so well. I did it all my life. I knew how to do that. But I couldn't save my sister with my profound love. I had to ultimately let her go and live my own life. </p><p></p><p>I did survive my sister's death and I have had a good and very happy life. I am very grateful for all of the blessings I have been given. </p><p></p><p>But I still didn't stop the caretaking. I knew how to do that.</p><p></p><p>But now, RE, today, I am learning how to be something more than a caretaker. When people grow up, like my son has, he has to stand on his own. It's not right for him not to do that, no matter what that looks like or how different it is from what i imagined for him. </p><p></p><p>It goes against the natural order, like the stories of the cat and her kittens, and the bird and the baby birds. It is not what God intended, and as long as we do that, we are completely out of sync in our own lives and also crippling those we love so much, a profound crippling. </p><p></p><p>Thanks so much for your words and your wisdom, RE. You and Cedar and BITS and Echo and MWM and so many others on this site help me so much. You are all leading me to new places that I need to go, gently and bluntly and metaphorically, in so many ways so I can see it from so many different viewpoints and side. It's like a prism that I have to keep looking at, seeing new things as I go. </p><p></p><p>Blessings to you today! Have a great day.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Childofmine, post: 622059, member: 17542"] Both a nap and a trip have been my top two go-to self-care treatments for several years. Working out of my home, I can get pretty stir-crazy and way too much inside my own head some days. I used to feel like a sitting duck for my son when he was in town. I was here, and he knew how to get here, and he would just show up. I felt so exposed and so vulnerable because before I laid down my boundaries like I did a few weeks ago, I couldn't protect myself emotionally from him. I am grateful that he is respecting my boundaries....or is it, RE, that I'm not giving him what he wants so he has no need of me now? Who knows what his motives are? I don't really need to know or spend any time on that. Just getting away---whether it's for a nap for an hour---or for a day, like you do, RE, is like a strong tonic. It [B]does[/B] make things bearable. There are so many "little" and big things we can do for our own self-care. Once we are tired of crying and sitting and staring and hiding under the covers---completely spent from the assault of this---we can being to think about self-care and just starting on that road pays such dividends that we want to do it more and more. We CAN survive this, RE. I don't know how we are doing it sometimes, but we ARE. By the grace of God, I believe. Yes. Isn't it amazing how much we have changed? We, who in the past, would have huddled in the house, waiting, then driving the streets, calling friends, sitting by the phone, pacing, crying, raging with our pain and our fear and our deep grief? We can now go to a street fair. There are many who won't and can't understand that. Because they have not lived under constant assault for such a long time, like we on this board have. The way I see it---we have two choices---we can continue and we will crumple under the weight and the pain and the pressure. We will be so shell-shocked. We will be like the walking dead as we enable and enable and enable, hoping and praying and giving, believing that our deep, profound love for our adult children will conquer all...because doesn't love conquer all? I think we all know that love is never enough. Many of us have learned that in our primary spousal relationships. We have been shown that it takes more than just love---although love is essential and perhaps the most important ingredient---but it also takes trust, respect, compromise, kindness and so many other qualities. If love was enough, it would have already happened, this miracle we are all still hoping for. Because we have surely loved enough. Or...we can look for a new way, RE. We can decide that while we [B]almost[/B] cannot bear the pain of what is happening with our precious adult children, we can. This pain, that never seems to stop, takes us to the very edge of life itself. As many have posted on this board, they didn't want to live, for a time. If our children cannot have a life, then we don't want one either. Years ago, when my sister was dying, I did that. I was 28 years old, and had been married for five years. We hadn't had children yet. We both were working professionals and lived in the same city as my sister and my parents and my adult siblings. All of a sudden (it seemed), I could barely function. I would go to work and then come home and lie on the bed and cry and cry and cry. I was despondent. I thought it was my marriage and so we went for counseling. After an hour, the counselor said he wanted to see us separately for a while, me first. At our first session, he told me I was experiencing anticipatory grief. I guess it was crystal clear to him what was going on, but it sure wasn't to me. I had never even heard of anticipatory grief. I didn't know what he was talking about. But I kept going to the appointments with him. Much of the time, I would just sit there and cry for the hour, as I remember it now. I remember telling him that I didn't want to live in a world without her. I couldn't imagine losing her. Finally, one day something he said broke through to me. He said, Are there other people in your life that you love and care about like you do Susan? I said, of course. He said, well, what about living for them? For some reason, I heard that. It was like a thunderbolt. And that was a turning point for me. He also cautioned me that when she did die, I might actually recover from my grief faster than others and not to be surprised by that. And he was right. Of course, I was distraught when she died. As the oldest of four, I helped take care of her a lot. While I am sure my feelings for her were very different from my parents', there were very strong connections. In fact, I hadn't even felt a desire or need for my own children, because I believe much of my nurturing and caretaking instincts and needs were being satisfied in my relationship with her. Thinking back now, that experience...so fundamental for me...has helped me with my son. It helps me see one of the reasons I knew how to caretake so well. I did it all my life. I knew how to do that. But I couldn't save my sister with my profound love. I had to ultimately let her go and live my own life. I did survive my sister's death and I have had a good and very happy life. I am very grateful for all of the blessings I have been given. But I still didn't stop the caretaking. I knew how to do that. But now, RE, today, I am learning how to be something more than a caretaker. When people grow up, like my son has, he has to stand on his own. It's not right for him not to do that, no matter what that looks like or how different it is from what i imagined for him. It goes against the natural order, like the stories of the cat and her kittens, and the bird and the baby birds. It is not what God intended, and as long as we do that, we are completely out of sync in our own lives and also crippling those we love so much, a profound crippling. Thanks so much for your words and your wisdom, RE. You and Cedar and BITS and Echo and MWM and so many others on this site help me so much. You are all leading me to new places that I need to go, gently and bluntly and metaphorically, in so many ways so I can see it from so many different viewpoints and side. It's like a prism that I have to keep looking at, seeing new things as I go. Blessings to you today! Have a great day. [/QUOTE]
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