Being who we are, even if FOO is different and doesn't like it

[Copabanana]

I am only back to tell you that Stella is fine. Unfortunately, she will require another two teeth out, at $450 more. She does not want to go zipping either.

 

[New Leaf]

Poor kitty Stella.....

 

[New Leaf]

I have not been zip lining but I have done this.....

This was a very unusual year for crossing the Kaiwi Channel from Molokai to Oahu. A "freak" north swell caused huge waves at the harbor entrance.
I was not in the starting crew, so I did not have to paddle through the waves. I was on the escort boat, hanging on for dear life to the start line. My crew made it out of the harbor through the waves during a lull, unscathed.
We are "ten women" teams, the canoe has six seats, so we rotate in and out, between the canoe and the escort boat. 41 miles from Molokai to Oahu, on average a 7 hour journey.

This crossing I did was amazing. One vivid memory I have from my vantage point on the escort boat is of huge rolling ocean swells, the canoe in between mountainous waves, below and above. Dolphins swam in a ray of light inside the wave above the canoe. It looked like the dolphins were flying above the canoe.

I have seen flying fish, whales, sharks, turtles while out on the ocean in a canoe.
I have tested myself to the ultimate degree. I absolutely love it.

I guess this is appropriate for this thread,
my sister wanted to have the upper hand with me,
but she would never, ever in a million years, try this.

Towanda!
ROAR!
leafy

 

[Copabanana]

She had come to believe, without doubt, that I believed as she did, a belief system made up of whole cloth, that the man who wanted to marry my mother was dangerous, manipulative, abusive.

My sister has the belief that her thinking is correct, the only correct way to think and that others who choose to have the correct view will believe as does she. It is the royal We, Cedar: The priest is dangerous, manipulative, abusive, because we think it.

If I deigned to dispute a strongly held belief of my sister's she would become enraged.

your courage and assertion and presence shamed the sister into a chance of awakening to who she is and she has refused it.

I believe that my sister felt this: How dare she come and take care of my mother. It is my place, and only my own to decide my mother's care and who does it.

I don't have no stinkin badges, is the attitude that comes to mind (Sierra Madre, I think.)

Once I came back to care for my mother my sister could not be any other thing but enraged. Because she thought it was her place to own and to control. I was by definition a usurper of what was hers.

I will always be a beggar to my sister. I could only converse with her from the margins. My life for almost 60 years I have felt marginal. I am only seeing now that it was my sister who named me such. It was not my mother. It was my sister.

the way she seems to require witnesses she has already poisoned against you to agree with her.

She uses her husband as if he is a butler who goes to the door and takes calling cards.

She has told everybody, including my old mother, that we were toxic to her, poisonous. And that is why she has to stay away from us. Because of her health. Before she got breast cancer it was her emotional health that we threatened. Now it is her life itself.

your courage and assertion and presence shamed the sister into a chance of awakening to who she is and she has refused it.

We are talking about killing malignancy here. That is how my sister defined us to herself and to others. That is why she would not talk to me or my mother as she died...and how she justified it to others...because we would kill her.

If she defines me as this as killing...would she ever see it as an opportunity to be present? To her I am garbage. Or worse, a malignancy.

the expectation that it is within the sisters' power to shame and to shun and to destroy loyal and honest connection.

Yes.

The sisters believe this is their right.

Yes.

I believe your sister knew exactly what she was doing to you, Feeling. And I believe it was intentional. You are held beneath a transparent film that keeps you imprisoned beneath the unassailable truth that your sister could not help what she did; that she did not know and was not responsible.

Which makes you responsible.

Like me, and like each of us here Feeling, you carry the guilt and shame of the other's choices.

Yes. When my sister unilaterally confined my mother who was perfectly fine to a rehabilitation hospital...without the legal right to do so, and without my mother's knowledge and consent...she just did it. Despite the fact that there was a legal process in place which she ignored. (As an attorney she knew what she was doing and the consequences.)

When I mentioned I had spoken to a social worker at the hospital she became enraged. Only she had that unilateral right. (It was like that time I sat on the beehive.)

I never ever had allowed myself really to know what I was dealing with, even though I knew it all along. I am so grateful I can know now. It is a horrible thing to fully recognize that your sister believes that you do not have rights as a daughter, or even when it relates to her, as a person.

She knew what she was doing every minute. She knew it was wrong and illegal and unethical. Yet I was the guilty and responsible party. That is how it works. There must be the belief, there is no other way to think, that with respect to her, I must be value-less and power-less.

Even though I am held as very high value in my family. That is the reality against which this whole theater is played out. So what I have had to hold in my mind nearly my whole life is that I am highly valued and not at all.

But see the gift you have received in M's sister, Copa, and in all of us.

I sure did, Cedar.

Decency prevailed, Copa.

Because you are brave.

Thank you, Cedar.

Except I am dreading, the word is dread which I have for thanksgiving. My son had wanted to come to see us a couple of weeks ago, and I said, how about Thanksgiving, and he said, you mean, instead?

I am becoming ill thinking about thanksgiving. M's sister decided to make dinner. I do not think M wants me to invite my son to go. He did not volunteer it as a possibility.

When I told M I was really feeling nervous about my son coming home, he said, there are alternatives, why not go to the big city and have dinner with him there?

I said: I told him he could come home on thanksgiving, as a way to put him off from coming a couple of weeks ago. (Isn't this terrible? To write this way about my son who I love.)

M said: He does not have to get a hundred percent of what he wants. You can go and meet him. (He did not say, we.) If I have to go to the Big City alone, that will be almost worse than having my son come here. At least here I will not be alone.

I am thinking about all of the times my son called the cops on us. I am thinking about how he gave M the black eye. I am thinking about how he takes over the house and I have to hide out in my room. I hate it when he is here. I absolutely hate it.

He is my son. I have to think of something. I think I will ask M's sister point blank if my son is invited. I will establish whether or not M will go with me or not to the Big City.

What do you think?

COPA

 

[New Leaf]

If I deigned to dispute a strongly held belief of my sister's she would become enraged.

Do we have the same sisters?

I believe that my sister felt this: How dare she come and take care of my mother. Taking advantage of my recent absence. It was always her place. She would allow me in, but it was always hers.

Sister was the fox watching the henhouse.

Once I came back to care for my mother my sister could not be any other thing but enraged. Because she thought it was her place to own and to control. I was by definition a usurper of what was hers.

Huh, I wonder what will become of us, Copa, when the time comes.

I will always be a beggar to my sister. I could only converse with her from the margins. My life for almost 60 years I have felt marginal. I am only seeing now that it was my sister who named me such. It was not my mother. It was my sister.

How on Gods green earth did they get this way?
My sister is already spinning tales to my mom that I will be coming for T-day or Christmas. My lil sis let me know this.
I have explained to Attilla over and over that I cannot afford this. That I am available when the time comes, to help care for my Mom. Does she think I am rich, that I can just take off of work to fly thousands of miles to spend quality time? We were just there.
I need to have a Dr. sign off to qualify for family leave. I do not think a Dr. will sign off for companionship. I have my family here, the hubs, my son.
It feels like sabotage, Copa, like she is setting me up to disappoint my Mom.
"Sorry Mom I cant come. Attilla was mistaken." How could my Mom feel about this? , How could she do this to the both of us?
UGH.

She has told everybody, including my old mother, that we were toxic to her, poisonous. And that is why she has to stay away from us. Because of her health. Before she got breast cancer it was her emotional health that we threatened. Now it is her life itself.

UGH. I am sorry this is so Copa.

We are talking about killing malignancy here. That is how my sister defined us to herself and to others. That is why she would not talk to me or my mother as she died...in her own mind...and how she justified it to others...because we would kill her.
If she defines me as this...would she ever see it as an opportunity to be present?

I do not know Copa, people can change, but I do not know.

She became enraged at me, when I said I spoke to the social worker at the hospital. (It was like that time I sat on the beehive.) I never ever had allowed myself really to know what I was dealing with, even though I knew it all along.

She knew what she was doing. She knew it was wrong and illegal and unethical. Yet I was the guilty and responsible party. That is how it works.

Projecting blame, it is classic. Yes it is so with Attilla.

I am becoming ill thinking about thanksgiving. M's sister decided to make dinner. I do not think M wants me to invite my son to go. He did not volunteer it as a possibility.

When I told M I was really feeling nervous about my son coming home, he said, there are alternatives, why not go to the big city and have dinner with him there?

M is a smart, smart man.

M said: He does not have to get a hundred percent of what he wants. You can go and meet him. (He did not say, we.) If I have to go to the Big City alone, that will be almost worse than having my son come here. At least here I will not be alone.

Copa, you are thinking so hard on this.

I am thinking about all of the times my son called the cops on us. I am thinking about how he gave M the black eye. I am thinking about how he takes over the house and I have to hide out in my room. I hate it when he is here. I absolutely hate it.

Oh Copa, this is hard. The holidays are hard in this situation with our d cs, they do not make anything less real for us, these holidays, with their Norman Rockwell fantasy paintings of the big family dinners where all is well and everybody is happy.

He is my son. I have to think of something. I think I will ask M's sister point blank if my son is invited. I will establish whether or not M will go with me or not to the Big City.

What do you think?

This is just my opinion, Copa.
I think you have a little time to reflect on your expressions here of how you feel when your son is present.
Not that it is a "horrible thing for a mother to feel this way about her son".
Cut that part out, that is guilt talking.
Think on the real truth of it, minus the Norman Rockwell painting.
Holidays, with all of the trimmings and stuff, compel us to want to be one big giant happy family. This does not always happen. Especially for us.

I think M is wise in encouraging you to go to him. On your terms.

How you feel about being around your son, holidays or not, is a consequence of his actions, nothing more, nothing less.
This has nothing to do with your mothering and everything to do with his choices.

Holidays on your terms Copa, is not a bad thing.
I do not know how M's sister would feel about having son for Thanksgiving, or M, or you. It seems to me, that you hate what happens when he is in your territory, your home. You have to take to your room.
What will you do if this happens at M's sisters? What will everyone else do?

Would it be different there? Would he act differently, and you react differently?

So much to think about.

The one thing that rings in my ears, is holidays on your terms.

I hope I have not offended you

leafy

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

This is painful. After I adopted my son and I began to see my Mother and sister again, I refused to call my mother, Mommy or Mama. It took years because I did not want to give her what I felt was that honor, because I felt she had failed me, and I could not let my mouth form the word.

That is where son has been for years and years regarding both D H and myself.

He calls us by our first names, because he says we deserve nothing more.

This is when we were still sending money or paying fines or taking him in.

And now too, of course.

There is and has been a feeling of hatred and contempt and that has gone on, has been the flavor of our relationship, for years. He is forty, now. He will inherit whatever we have, along with his sister. If I am to begin taking my son at his word, there is nothing more than that, from his side. I did not know that, Copa. I never took him seriously; I did not honor my son in believing he chose his words intentionally, and that he meant what he said.

A choice on my part.

Just like I believed in that family dinner instead of admitting my situation as regards my family of origin. D H and I were talking about that last night. I think it was too painful to acknowledge any of it so I leaped into denial and denial is a very complex and beautifully constructed thing. It is most horrific, when we begin to dismantle it.

But I think we cannot be free unless we do.

How shaming, to be seen like that by one's own son, and to have allowed it. Or to have been seen in the ways my daughter has seen me, and to have allowed it.

D H says it is not shaming. That it just is what it is.

And that it has nothing to do with us, really.

And that it changes nothing.

***

But for me, it does.

Like in Tapestry. The frog reaches for something golden hanging from the Tree. And her hands come up empty.

It is what it is.

Except I am dreading, the word is dread which I have for thanksgiving. My son had wanted to come to see us a couple of weeks ago, and I said, how about Thanksgiving, and he said, you mean, instead?

He is coming to grips with the damage that has been done not to the underlying love but to the relationship by his actions. Of which he has been made aware by my detaching.

And I am no longer so ready to submit myself to more suffering, where I get sick and have to hide in my room to survive my son's visits. The thing is when I even think of my son visiting I feel ill. My stomach hurts.

Your stomach hurts and I can't breathe. What a pair we make, Copa!

:O)

You were correct in these actions, and this thinking, Copa. You would have been remiss (as I have been too, I see that now), in condoning the behaviors your son was indulging in, before.

We are their mothers, Copa.

We must set the standard, if they will not, or if the standards they set are the standards of rabid animals. We are not and never were required to see ourselves as less than; were never required and should never have allowed, ourselves to be seen and treated and used as funnels for money, or for safe harbor to practice an addiction.

How corrupt.

They were not raised to behave as they are behaving, now.

Your son is still young. Mine is forty. That is a very great many holidays to have missed. A very great many terrible memories to have lived.

Snip.

Not "snip" the ties to my son, but to my illusions about just what this is. That I love him is just a fact, nothing more. It has nothing to do with him.

Or my daughter, or my regrets.

I watched something yesterday about the life of Jaqueline Kennedy. What the challenges were, how different that life lived was from the way it looked; how it was that she lived it and came through it.

***

Very strong mothers would not have tolerated what we have tolerated from our sons and so their sons would not have done what our sons did. Neither you nor I would have allowed such behaviors from our sons as toddlers or little boys or adolescents. As they grew into their manhoods, our sons took themselves in other directions, learned other moral codes.

That we accept moral codes other than those we raised them with is a wrongness against our sons.

For me, for this morning, this is true.

I was not in the starting crew, so I did not have to paddle through the waves. I was on the escort boat, hanging on for dear life to the start line. My crew made it out of the harbor through the waves during a lull, unscathed.
We are "ten women" teams, the canoe has six seats, so we rotate in and out, between the canoe and the escort boat. 41 miles from Molokai to Oahu, on average a 7 hour journey.

This crossing I did was amazing. One vivid memory I have from my vantage point on the escort boat is of huge rolling ocean swells, the canoe in between mountainous waves, below and above. Dolphins swam in a ray of light inside the wave above the canoe. It looked like the dolphins were flying above the canoe.


I have tested myself to the ultimate degree. I absolutely love it.

I am blown away.

I have been in boats on the ocean when the water was rough, and in boats on Lake Superior when the water was (to me) rough, but I have never seen anything like this.

Oh, wow.

Thank you.

Here is the magic of this site. I was just now feeling all lost and forlorn about who cares what. I watched that video.

Oh, wow.

There are things happening in the world that I should be part of. What happened with my kids is just what happened. I can hardly believe you lived through it, Leafy. Did everyone live through it? Was is cold or warm?

Oh, wow.

You must have incredible muscular strength.

Exhilarating.

Ten-women teams. I like that very much.

Were you very afraid?

Cedar

He is my son. I have to think of something. I think I will ask M's sister point blank if my son is invited. I will establish whether or not M will go with me or not to the Big City.

What do you think?

Do not invite him. Tell him now that your plans have changed, and that your thinking has changed. There will be nothing pleasant about that conversation Copa, but is it true that you fear your son will not leave your home once he is back in?

He cannot come for Thanksgiving, Copa.

You are not required to explain or justify. He knows what he did, and he knows it was wrong. In the end, if we stay moral ourselves, it is possible our sons will change course.

Or not, in the case of my son.

I feel bright and brittle with anger this morning.

I apologize.

 

[New Leaf]

Good morning sister warriors

There is and has been a feeling of hatred and contempt and that has gone on, has been the flavor of our relationship, for years. He is forty, now. He will inherit whatever we have, along with his sister. If I am to begin taking my son at his word, there is nothing more than that, from his side. I did not know that, Copa. I never took him seriously; I did not honor my son in believing he chose his words intentionally, and that he meant what he said.

My eldest daughter is 36.The last time I saw her, she could not even meet my eyes with hers. Reading this, I think the last time she looked at me with loving eyes was .....16, that was 20 long years ago. That I let her in my house, feeling as she did, acting as she did over and over again, is a testament to my weakness. Because I was weak in this, her contempt for me only grew. I understand this now.

How shaming, to be seen like that by one's own son, and to have allowed it. Or to have been seen in the ways my daughter has seen me, and to have allowed it.

D H says it is not shaming. That it just is what it is.

And that it has nothing to do with us, really.

And that it changes nothing.

It does change nothing Cedar, it is what it is. As a mother, I looked at my children with memories of them as children. These memories led me to keep trying. What I had failed to realize, was that they had crossed the threshold into their own. In this capturing them as babes in my mind and heart, we both became trapped in the wrongness of it.
I, loving and enabling in spite of it all, she, despising me ever more for allowing it.
It is what it is. What's done is done. I cannot change what has happened, but I can change how I respond now.

Like in Tapestry. The frog reaches for something golden hanging from the Tree. And her hands come up empty.

It is what it is.

I did not think of this frog reaching for something golden as this. It truly is a vivid imagery of what is, and what was. Thank you Cedar. I shall think of that song differently now.

We must set the standard, if they will not, or if the standards they set are the standards of rabid animals. We are not and never were required to see ourselves as less than; were never required and should never have allowed, ourselves to be seen and treated and used as funnels for money, or for safe harbor to practice an addiction.

This is true Cedar. Just as we were not meant to see ourselves through the eyes of our abusers. We were not meant to see ourselves through the eyes of our d cs. Oh, how they try to keep us captured in that, so that we will remain guilt ridden and in the state of remembering them as children. But they are not children, they are adults, responsible in every way for their choices.

Not "snip" the ties to my son, but to my illusions about just what this is. That I love him is just a fact, nothing more. It has nothing to do with him.

Or my daughter, or my regrets.

So true.

Very strong mothers would not have tolerated what we have tolerated from our sons and so their sons would not have done what our sons did. Neither you nor I would have allowed such behaviors from our sons as toddlers or little boys or adolescents. As they grew into their manhoods, our sons took themselves in other directions, learned other moral codes.

That we accept moral codes other than those we raised them with is a wrongness against our sons.

And against ourselves. When I was in the difficulties of marriage with the hubs, I was desperate. I reached out to Attilla, who tried to convince my mother and I that I must pack up and come home. When speaking with my Mom on this, she very calmly said "You must be self sufficient, Leafy. There are shelters, there is help for you there, we love you." Then she hung up the phone. The words spun in my head. I did not get it then, but she was right to be strong like that for me in every bit of it. I am grateful now, that my Mom was strong enough to say this. She gave me my responsibility. How would my half Hawaiian-Chinese children fared, if I ripped them from their home and dragged them over the ocean and across the country? It would not have been fair to them, to myself, but most of all, to my parents. I did not see it then, but I see it now. I wish I had kept this lesson in my struggles with my d cs, but I forgot it. I forgot how strong I had to become to figure things out, to find my own solutions as an adult.

There are things happening in the world that I should be part of. What happened with my kids is just what happened. I can hardly believe you lived through it, Leafy. Did everyone live through it? Was is cold or warm?

Yes Cedar, it is just what happened, and to me, and Feeling, and Copa. We cannot change our responses then, but we can now. With our newfound thinking from all of this hard work here, we can change our patterning.

The waves you see crashing at the harbor front are just that. Outside of the surf line, the ocean in its brilliant lapis lazuli blue, is very, very deep. There was much movement in the water out there, due to the swell, but it was big rolling waves, not whitewater. The whitewater is the turmoil. Yes the Kaiwi Channel can be as treacherous as the harbor front waves, but not the tubing break of shallow water. It can be big monstrous waves, boiling seas with heavy whitecaps. In 2012, the deep channel was strong current with big rollers. Big rolling waves are like a dream state. The canoe glides up, up, up, then down, down down. From the escort boat, the canoe appears and disappears, in and out of the trough. We follow along on this boat, cheering on our crew members, refueling our bodies with water and protein bars. We do 20 minute pieces in the canoe, 10 minute breaks in the escort boat. Then the coach calls for the change. Yelling out the seats that will make the switch. "Two, four, five." My heart pounds, for now, I shall have to move fast on the escort boat as it speeds ahead of the canoe to drop us in the sparkling waters. "Go, Go, Go!" The coach commands, as the boat rocks perilously to and fro, and I nimbly climb up the side of the heaving vessel and jump into the swirling waters below me, time slows with the magic of it. It is as if I am in slow motion, then the chill of the water wakes me from my awe. I take in a deep breath and swim to my sister paddlers, in formation of our seat order, we wave the canoe towards us. I am pushing myself to keep positive, for this is the hardest part of this test for me, hefting myself into a canoe barreling towards me. I must only take seconds to do this. The women in the canoe unzip the canvas, it appears and disappears. My heart is pounding, "I can do this" I say over and over in my mind. The canoe approaches, seats two, four, five, jump out as the canoe nears us. I place my hands upon the gunwale, find my seat, and let the momentum of the canoe hoist my body from the water and struggle in, zip the canvas, grab the paddle and paddle with all my might for the next 20 minutes. This happens over and over, until we reach the finish line.
The water was warm and cold Cedar, but we hardly have time to feel it.
We are set to the task, determined to be the strong link in the crew.

You must have incredible muscular strength.

Exhilarating.

Ten-women teams. I like that very much.

Were you very afraid?

I have very big shoulders. In season, muscular, off ouch. It takes a lot of work and time to be of the right fitness to do this.
Yes Cedar, I was afraid. The dusty road to Hale O Lono harbor starts at the top of a hill and winds down to the sea. We rode in the back of a pick up truck, and as we turned to see the ocean, saw the huge waves crashing at the harbor front. A kind of hush fell over us. As a surfer, I know there is a timing to waves, that there are lulls where if one scrambles fast enough, one can get through. But this was different, we were not on surfboards.
The organizers of the race decided to hold it, knowing of the ocean. Trusting in the training and knowledge of coaches and crew. The announcement was that there was seven minutes between sets of waves, but what they forgot, was the unpredictability of the ocean, coupled with the rising tide. Some clubs were wise, and went to the start line completely around the waves. The harbor entrance is the typical ingress, so crews launched their canoes and paddled slowly out towards the breakers. I held my breath and watched from the shore. This was trouble. Locals from the island, on their vantage point from the jetty, shouted to the women that there was a lull ''Go, Go, Go!" So the women paddled forward. The observers had not seen, the waves becoming erratic in timing, as the women paddled, onlookers began shouting "NO!NO!NO!", but it was too late. My crew was up and over and through. The other crew we were with hulied (Hoo leed) turned over, and were busy trying to collect themselves and right their canoe.
I hurried to the escort boat, heart pounding. The remaining three women and I as well as our coach, were quiet as we headed towards the entrance. We chugged through the choppy protected harbor waters to the entrance and plowed through the waves, I held on as the escort boat went nearly vertical, my heart skips as I type this. Was I scared? Hell yah! But, we have to take that fear and turn it into courage. Because it is not all about self, it is about crew. We have to take that fear and turn it into courage.......

Do not invite him. Tell him now that your plans have changed, and that your thinking has changed. There will be nothing pleasant about that conversation Copa, but is it true that you fear your son will not leave your home once he is back in?

He cannot come for Thanksgiving, Copa.

Cedar, you have courage in putting it this way. In that, you are a true friend. Yes Copa, I believe Cedar is correct in this.

You are not required to explain or justify. He knows what he did, and he knows it was wrong. In the end, if we stay moral ourselves, it is possible our sons will change course.

Or not, in the case of my son.

Yes my sister warriors, we have to take our fears and turn them into courage, for ourselves, and our d cs. We need to show them through our courage, that we do not, will not accept ill treatment. That there are consequences for their actions.
Have courage Copa. He cannot come to Thanksgiving.

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

Yes, my sister has "urinated" on many of my parents possessions. She is incensed when Mom has given things to brother and little sis. Huh.

Your response had to do with the yellow ice envisionment, Leafy. I think where I got to with it was that though initially the yellow ice was seen as something insulting...perhaps that is the mark of the alpha female.

And perhaps...we put it there, ourselves, sealing the memory beneath it to keep ourselves in denial.

Lest we grow cold.

Signposts and markers for us now, to healing.

How else can we explain that we never once saw the insult in the things the sisters did routinely?

It is important for us to remember the sisters are damaged, too.

There is no villain here, no victor.

There is us, coming whole.

Who knew yellow snow could be part of that.

I have a doctor's appointment this morning and then, shopping and trying to get D H to take me to lunch.

:O)

Cedar

 

[New Leaf]

Thank you Cedar, it is true.
No villain, no victor, only understanding.
The sisters are damaged, as we all are
bearing the mark of imperfect humans.
No judging,
only good judgement.
We are coming to enlightenment on this journey.
The seeing of this.
Finding the meaning of the yellowed snow.
Lest we grow cold.

Have a wonderful day Cedar.
The roosters are crowing, birds in song greet the morning.
The sun rises slowly and surely.

Life is good.

leafy

 

[BusynMember]

I came to see myself as the powerful one. She receded in power and importance in my inner life, as she had in my actual one.

Good for you!

 

[Copabanana]

If I am to begin taking my son at his word, there is nothing more than that, from his side.

But Cedar, look at how I loved my Mother, and the feeling of it almost killed me, after she died.

Words are cheap, especially the way we delude ourselves with them. That he can say whatever in the world he wants to himself and to you means nothing at all except the hurt of it and the self-delusion, and you have control over the former, how much it hurts you. By facing it. And you are.

You or I cannot control how our children live their lives except with respect to how we permit their hurting us.

I did not honor my son in believing he chose his words intentionally, and that he meant what he said.

I hope for him he does not live by his idiocy for the rest of your lives.

But what can you do? Except live well yourselves. And you are.

D H says it is not shaming. That it just is what it is.

I agree with D H. To be shamed by it is a bit like being shamed by how my sister treats me and M.

My mother was not shamed. But she at times was mad and sad.

And that it has nothing to do with us, really.

Except in its effects.

Your son is a tough case. Let him be.

It would be a brave, brave thing to decide to tell my son I have changed my mind about Thanksgiving. But a true thing. It would be telling him the truth about our relationship right now for me.

Seeing it as a question of honor and respect, I see it must be done. Seeing it as an issue of choosing myself over him, is harder.

COPA

 

[Copabanana]

My sister is already spinning tales to my mom that I will be coming for T-day or Christmas. My lil sis let me know this.

I went to my mother when she was ill and stayed with her taking her to the doctor. I had quit work. Within a few weeks she was diagnosed with a recurrence of the TB she had had 25 years before. My sister flew cross country, and a day later her 2 kids joined her. *She was mad because I had not called her right away. Me and my mother were afraid.

My mother told my sister: Do not meddle with or insert yourself into my treatment. My sister ignored her and did anyway, and I saw her talking to the doctor and out loud in front of my mom and nieces, I said so.

My mother told my sister: You promised me you would not interfere. I ask you again. Do not take control of me or my medical care. COPA and I have a plan in place and I do not want you to change it.

My sister stormed out of the hospital room with her children.

Then a few weeks later when my Mother was in Rehab my sister sent a letter, with this big song and dance about how she had purchased an airline ticket for my mother and arranged a wheel chair etcetera for my Mother to come for Christmas, like they had discussed. At that time Christmas was in 3 weeks.

Except that they had never discussed it. My sister did it unilaterally. There was no way in the world that my mother would ever have done it or was ever fit to make such a trip.

Everything was created out of whole cloth in her mind which she then presented to my mother as a done deal.

Until now I had never realized it was pure theater. She was competing. With me. There was never a ticket. There was never a wheelchair.

I am hating her right now.

COPA

 

[Scent of Cedar *]

That I let her in my house, feeling as she did, acting as she did over and over again, is a testament to my weakness. Because I was weak in this, her contempt for me only grew. I understand this now.

I think we need not name this weakness Leafy so much as that we did not believe they meant it; we did not take them seriously. For me and my son, and maybe, for you and this daughter too Leafy, life has borne out that the kids seem to have meant those ugly words, and that ugly thinking behind them. I have a theory (based on nothing) that when we use illicit drugs routinely, the alteration in brain chemistry has to do with the chemicals responsible, first for empathy, and then, without empathy to guide us, for integrity. The high is not in the drug used, but in the chemicals it wrings out of the brain to create the high. So, it makes sense to me that with the good chemistry used up in one blast, our children are living from worlds that are very dark and maybe, without the capacity to love. That could be how this ongoing ugliness is happening to us, and to our addicted children. My son was nothing like this as a child or an adolescent.

We lost our son at 16 too, Leafy.

One day, he was working, doing great in school, running for Student Council president and the next, he wasn't. Like you too Leafy, we have never seen our same son, again. Serenity posted so honestly to all of us about verbally abusive adult children. And somehow, it seemed we had never considered that a child could verbally abuse a parent. But they can, and they were, and I recognized my son there, too.

And you could have blown me over with a feather.

But I had been here long enough by that time to have absorbed what I could of detachment theory and, with the undeniable truth of the verbal abuse happening between myself and my son, I was able to stand up to him. Boy, he hated that. It was awful. So, we all just kept learning and trying and reading and sharing and one day, we realized our kids were actually doing better once we'd said: NO MONEY. So, we worked a little longer, a little more specifically. We began to wonder how it might have gone differently had we been stronger people.

And a long time after that, FOO Chronicles was started.

So I got a little off track, here. The part that matters is that we (all the parents here) trusted our children to be the people we'd known as we raised them. We could no more believe the words or contempt or theft or lack of a moral compass in our children than we could have flown.

We did not take it seriously. Not because we were afraid or weak. Because we literally refused to believe that what our eyes were seeing and what our brains were reporting could be the things that mattered.

Sort of, "Call me what you like, think of my any way your want, just stop using. Don't do this to me, and don't do this, to you." We didn't matter to ourselves, Leafy. Only our children mattered. Just the way we were taught was the right way to do this when we were little girls.

This is not a healthy way to model health or strength for our kids.

Then, we sealed it all in denial and never faced it head on, again. Just like we have had to do, all of our lives, to survive our childhoods, and to function as adults in the world in spite of negative tapes that would stop another person dead in their tracks.

Slap a layer of denial on it and function beautifully. That is what we do, Leafy. That is what we did.

It may not have been the best thing for our kids.

***

I think the piece about empathy and then, integrity makes sense because Our Gift From God kids are spectacularly, astonishingly mean in the same ways.

Almost verbatim.

There is mom on P.E. whose son has said even more horrible things to she and her husband than my son has said, to me.

I mean, just awful things, the worst I have ever heard.

My son tells me things like he has been told he will come into his inheritance at 46.

Which would mean D H and I would both be dead.

But my son stressed that to me really hard. I laughed it off and smoothed it over and said all the things anyone might say. But...who talks to their mother like that? Someone blaming his mother for where he took his life, that's who.

What kind of man does that.

The kind of man whose mom lets him, that's who. And I did let him, Leafy. Because I believed I had failed him. But I did not fail him. He failed me. Had I been able to see it that way, might our son have changed the course of his life? I don't know. But I do know kindness and understanding and believing and guilt and depression and agony did not help him. We got so twisted into an enabling mindset in our family that daughter would go into crisis and like clockwork, son would go, next.

It was unbelievable.

I am glad we (I) finally learned to say no. D H never had a minute's problem helping or, when he was done helping, with saying no. I did. D H would give money to calm me. So it got very ugly. That is how I know about triangulation. Because I did that to my D H. At one point, D H was so sick of all of it he no longer believed anything we did would make any difference. He said it was simpler to shell out the money and get them out of his space.

And I was appalled.

But D H was correct.

Because all that money, and all that time, never changed a thing. Saying NO MONEY changed very many things, it seems. I wonder what the change will be as I become healthier still, and begin requiring civility.

It was never that we were weak, Leafy.

We believed. We sacrificed our happiness, time, and attention as was required of us in our childhoods. We could not know that was a wrong way to go.

Now, we do.

Well, I'm getting there and you're almost there and Copa is right in the fire and will come through beautifully with M beside her. Feeling, if you are reading along, your heart is tender and bruised, now. But with all my heart Feeling, I believe you are following the correct course for your son.

***

I am sorry that your daughter is having problems too, Leafy. My daughter treats us both so much differently than our son does. Daughter can be manipulative too, but she doesn't seem to hate us. Daughter's issues are very different than son's.

And involve diagnoses so scary to me.

***

I am rambling on a little bit here, but it helps me when someone else shares honestly about the words her kids use, or the ways they think that are so shocking to us. Then, I can know it isn't something I've done to the child, and it wasn't that I was a rotten mom after all. Though I wish I had done so many things differently but you know what? Drug use is the crux of the issue with our son.

How awful for all of us. Such a terrible loss, for us and for our children and for the world, really.

But mostly, for us.

Cedar

Happy Hour here, everybody. Have a nice night, sleep well.

:O)

 

[Feeling Sad]

Thank you, Cedar. Saying that my heart is 'tender and bruised' is a perfect way to sum it up.

Yes, I finally feel that what happened was the best course for all concerned.

The difficult part was digesting that my son could be capable of killing me. It was surreal. I refused to accept this horrendous fact until that night I heard him arguing with his voices about not wanting to kill me...then my internal survival instincts kicked in. Even then, i had not fully accepted the reality. I ran from the house like a deer would instinctively run from hunters.

It wasn't until after 4 or 5 weeks therapy, that I even realized that the jagged bottle incident was a real attempt. My heart wanted to wholly believe and cling onto the notion that it was a 'joke' like my ill son had said. I went to the courthouse for advice the next day, but it still did not register. I shoved it down.

When their words or behavior are so foreign, our minds refuse to believe that our child, our past wonderful child, are capable of that abhorrent behavior. Yes, drugs and/or mental illness takes over and alters our children's minds.

As parents, we want to 'fix' it and blame ourselves. When my therapist told me, "Yes, you could have kept trying. But, you could also be dead", it stopped me in my tracks. It was a game changer. No more want if's...

"You could be dead" was the last nail in the coffin, pun intended.

 

[Copabanana]

I have a theory (based on nothing) that when we use illicit drugs routinely, the alteration in brain chemistry has to do with the chemicals responsible, first for empathy, and then, without empathy to guide us, for integrity.

Cedar, this theory of yours is a true thing. The drugs (meth is the worst) change the physiology of the brain and that is what makes it so hard to stop. Not just the cravings but a kind of psychosis which remains for a long time. And there are psychiatric diagnoses which are notable for an absence of empathy...bipolar is one.

I am in agreement with you about the empathy and the integrity. I am thinking about moral development. There are stages there too that correlate with the stages of cognitive development identified by Piaget.

If one begins drugs at 16, this would arrest moral development (while using and sometime after), I think, but I have never looked at the research. But I am writing about something I do not understand or know much about. I will try to look to see if there is research.

But it all boils down to one thing: our adult children's lives are their own. They are responsible, not us. In our culture in this day and age, they owe us nothing except respect.

That we only got the memo until many years we spent suffering, is a sadness. But now we know.

My son tells me things like he has been told he will come into his inheritance at 46.

Which would mean D H and I would both be dead.

I would almost be tempted to disinherit a son that spoke the words that inferred he wished me dead before it was my time, in favor of leaving his share in trust for his children.

For a while my Mother had her trust set up like this, that the grandchildren inherit and not her daughters. I remember my sister was all bothered about it, and I, thought about it not at all.

COPA

 

[Copabanana]

That I let her in my house, feeling as she did, acting as she did over and over again, is a testament to my weakness. Because I was weak in this, her contempt for me only grew. I understand this now.

Love is not weakness. You kept trying because you love her and did not want to face that your love could not work to help her. You hoped that she would respond. Belatedly we learned that it does not work.

I think we need not name this weakness Leafy so much as that we did not believe they meant it; we did not take them seriously.

I think that they mean it, but they know not how lost they are. Their thinking is disordered. But cannot be forgotten or forgiven. Not now and not yet.

I think we have to take seriously their words, not that our hearts break from it, but so that they learn that words count. That words hurt and they will be taken seriously. That everything they say or do to us will be taken seriously and responded too, seriously. (I am listening to myself here, too.)

In this way we show and demand respect for ourselves, not for them. They deserve to be treated civilly if they conduct themselves as such. No more.

The umbilical cord must be cut completely, not to our hearts, but to our responses. They are accountable for every single thing they say or do. That is what must change.

I agree a lot with D H--who I think said, give them what they want so that they leave us and our space alone. I think he is saying here, we are no longer responsible, nor are we obligated to sacrifice one iota that they learn.

I am thinking about what you have said, Cedar, that we owe them the truth, to speak directly what is correct, what we know is the right way to live.

I am thinking about this. I am wondering anymore if I agree. Of course, they are our children and will always be. But if a relationship is destroyed, can we honestly act as if it is not? Does maintaining a parental stance make sense within a relationship of contempt?

I am thinking that at the age my son is, just 27, this may make sense still. But past a point, no. And we are close to that point.

Then it is one adult to another. I think to continue to parent an adult child leads to contempt. Perhaps it might be founded upon contempt.

Perhaps my son and I are at this point now, where I have run out of giving. He will have to do it himself.

I told M's sister how I felt about my son coming home. She was appalled. Not in a blaming way, but it was not within her to understand a mother who felt as I did. Who did not want to have her child at home or even to go and see him.

I told her: I understand the limit is in me. That I get sick at even the idea of my son here with me. And she agreed. Yes, it is something in you.

I am very sad right now thinking about my Mother. How she tried and tried to be what I needed. Even letting our dog stay. If you knew my Mother and her house you would not believe this. But she did. And it was never enough for me.

She tried. Am I not capable of the same?

I do not know what it is in me. A Mexican mother, and Italian mother, a Jewish mother (which I am) is not supposed to feel this way. But I do. I am depleted.

M says I need to call my son and find out what he wants. That only with this, can we decide.

My son will be welcome at M's sister's for Thanksgiving. There is also the possibility of going to a Hot Springs and to stay the night there with or without him. It will be very expensive. $400 just to stay.

I think M's sister very much wants us to be with her and her family. I think I need to honor that.

COPA

 

[Copabanana]

Rewiring Your Self to Break Addictions and Habits: Overcoming Problem Patterns
By Angela Browne Miller

In this book there is a chapter on Decision Making. She talks briefly about how adult moral development begins at age 16 and not until 25 is it consolidated in some but not all people.

She talks about how drug use and other trauma can arrest, in some cases permanently, cognitive function and with that moral development.

She discusses how good decisions are made and how to improve the decision making process.

My son has poor judgment, and I feel, makes poor decisions. But this is a chicken and egg problem. If you decide poorly and have poor judgment, it is this same limited capacity that evaluates the decision to work on one's decision-making and to view it as limited.

My son that I can remember right now has not chosen to deal with a problem beyond his illusion that he is balding.

COPA

 

[Feeling Sad]

Copa, it is NOT "something in you". She cannot judge you. She had not gone through what you have gone through.

You have made such progress! That growth needs to be protected and nutured.

Could he stay at a hotel or in your investment home?

If he did stay at your house, you need to have a clear date to leave and have very explicit guidelines for what is allowed or not allowed.

Yes, you have every right to feel that you have no more to give. You still love him, and you do not want to aggravate your stable relationship. You are burned out.

He has been seeing the doctors and is afraid...of logical things and illogical things. You need strict rules in place, even if he stays elsewhere. There should be certain topics off limits to encourage a relaxed setting for all.

Let your son know that you love him, but you are worried because of his past behavior. You have every right to not want to see him now. You are fragile. As Cedar put it, about me, "your heart is tender and bruised".

Do what is right for you! Do not worry about how M or M's sister views you.

You come first right now.

 

[Feeling Sad]

Or go to see him. It will not be on your turf and you can leave when you want to. You and M could stay in a hotel.

You do not need to explain to M or M's sister. Your son can see you and visit. You would also have alone time with M. You could shop, explore, and sight-see. You have a 'built-in' out.

Either way, YOU decide what is best for you!

 

[Copabanana]

If he did stay at your house, you need to have a clear date to leave and have very explicit guidelines for what is allowed or not allowed.

I do not know how this conversation would happen and be successful. There have been so many times when I have had rules. For a long time, he mocked them. Then came the time he would agree, but his understanding was completely different than my own. His perception is that "trying" is enough. What is trying?

Let your son know that you love him, but you are worried because of his past behavior. You have every right to not want to see him now. You are fragile.

This is the truth, Feeling.

I do not want to travel to him, that is the truth, too. I feel secure in my own home. I should want to go to the city of my birth, but I do not want to.

I do not trust him with rules. Rules are a set up for conflict. Because they are subject to subjective interpretation. It sets up an argument and a power struggle.

We talked about a motel or his staying at the property. M thinks he will want to be here. I agree. He will want to be with the animals. And food. I am sure he sees it as a non-stop feeding frenzy. The motel or the other house is another set up for conflict. When to go home. Who decides. He will feel put upon and morose. Another set up for conflict.

I am thinking that there are only two possible scenarios: no visit or he come for a set, short time.

Like arrive Wed and go home Friday, buying the departure ticket in advance. If he came Wed we could go to a nice restaurant 45 minutes away that he likes, which will eat up 3 hours. We go to bed, we go to M's sister Thursday afternoon, we go to bed. He leaves Friday mid-day. That seems like something I can handle. Two nights, one day.

One ground rule: conflict begins, he goes. And I define conflict. And he accepts this before he comes. If he does not accept it, he cannot come.

Thank you for your support, Feeling. How are you?

COPA