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Detachment is not that you should own nothing; it's that nothing should own you.
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 639599" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>True.</p><p></p><p>So foolishly after all these years though, I wish it was different than it is. </p><p></p><p>We wish for honor. We wish for those we love truly to see us, and to be able to reflect that finer self back into our own questioning hearts. That is what a good marriage (or a cherished, long term friendship) is, when you think about it. It is that someone who truly knows us loves us more, and believes in us more, than we do, ourselves. More than we can do, because each of us knows the personal, private things we struggle with, in our secret hearts, to be better people than we sometimes are.</p><p></p><p>But for one of our own children to be so spiteful and hateful is like holding up an ugly, spoiled thing to reflection. And if we let our children in, if we open any internal doors to them...those are the reflections that hit at the heart.</p><p></p><p>It quite sucks.</p><p></p><p>And I am getting a little angry about it, actually.</p><p></p><p>It's like a really mean trick, in a way. Like when you reach to shake someone's hand and they have one of those little hand buzzers in there.</p><p></p><p>Ouch.</p><p></p><p>And oh, for Heaven's sake and forever...but, I thought you loved me....</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>There is only that little piece that wonders whether, this time, he would make it; or whether, this time, I (we) owe him this other chance because now he has children and we aren't even going to go to that house again for months.</p><p></p><p>But...who pays the utilities, right?</p><p></p><p>Who pays for food and clothes and gas if difficult child son does not pick up?</p><p></p><p>I mean, this could get to be a real nightmare <em>because</em> there are children involved.</p><p></p><p>The other side of that is: what kind of parent (really and sincerely) does not believe in her own child enough to fight for him or her?</p><p></p><p>So, that is the tight little circle ruining my sleep, lately. In a way I am glad. Once I am through this, I will be less (way less) vulnerable to any of this. In fact, I am not so vulnerable to it while I am awake. </p><p></p><p>Ha! I sound so foolish, even to myself.</p><p></p><p>It's a pretty lonely thing though, to stand on the hard won ground of common sense and of detachment and of the choice to self protect instead of risking for and supporting someone you still harbor dreams for.</p><p></p><p>And I do still want difficult child son to succeed, to be okay, to be a good father, and to be happy.</p><p></p><p>It is a strangeness that, as is their pattern from forever, difficult child daughter will crash and burn and then, BOOM...difficult child son.</p><p></p><p>Drug use complicating an already chaotic situation for difficult child daughter, and drug use creating a chaotic situation for difficult child son. </p><p></p><p>It's unbelievable.</p><p></p><p>How can this be my life, right?!? Deep in that secret place in the heart I was posting about earlier? That place where we keep the secret things we don't want to know?</p><p></p><p>I wonder whether I even really care anymore, at all. Do you suppose we ever just stop? Just stop believing? Then we would have to look right at what is.</p><p></p><p>Ew.</p><p></p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>difficult child son is definitely not adverse to using his children to hurt me. Poor difficult child son, though. He has used them to hurt me so much that I don't really know his children, other than through phone calls and one or two visits, at all.</p><p></p><p>And ultimately...my role in their lives can be very much from the outside looking in. My job as their grandmother is simple. Believe in and love them. I can handle that without ever seeing them in person, again. Last summer, I did not even get to send cards, remember? When difficult child son refused to give me the address?</p><p></p><p>And I think I felt worse about it than the grandchildren did. They were happy to get their Halloween cards and chatty as all get out about how they've been. And I get it that difficult child son hopes to reconnect me?</p><p></p><p>But I was never disconnected, so I am going to handle whatever he comes up with next just fine.</p><p></p><p>Which makes the kids not exactly a weapon difficult child son can use with impunity, anymore.</p><p></p><p>What is the matter with me, that I need everyone to think I am nice?!? Who cares whether I am, was, or ever will be, a good mother or even, a nice mother?!?</p><p></p><p>Or a bad grandma.</p><p></p><p>Grr....</p><p></p><p>Remember that movie, Bad Santa?</p><p></p><p>That is going to be me, in the grandma department.</p><p></p><p>Cedar spits a plug of tobacco into the dust. (I have been reading a Western just lately.)</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 639599, member: 17461"] True. So foolishly after all these years though, I wish it was different than it is. We wish for honor. We wish for those we love truly to see us, and to be able to reflect that finer self back into our own questioning hearts. That is what a good marriage (or a cherished, long term friendship) is, when you think about it. It is that someone who truly knows us loves us more, and believes in us more, than we do, ourselves. More than we can do, because each of us knows the personal, private things we struggle with, in our secret hearts, to be better people than we sometimes are. But for one of our own children to be so spiteful and hateful is like holding up an ugly, spoiled thing to reflection. And if we let our children in, if we open any internal doors to them...those are the reflections that hit at the heart. It quite sucks. And I am getting a little angry about it, actually. It's like a really mean trick, in a way. Like when you reach to shake someone's hand and they have one of those little hand buzzers in there. Ouch. And oh, for Heaven's sake and forever...but, I thought you loved me.... *** There is only that little piece that wonders whether, this time, he would make it; or whether, this time, I (we) owe him this other chance because now he has children and we aren't even going to go to that house again for months. But...who pays the utilities, right? Who pays for food and clothes and gas if difficult child son does not pick up? I mean, this could get to be a real nightmare [I]because[/I] there are children involved. The other side of that is: what kind of parent (really and sincerely) does not believe in her own child enough to fight for him or her? So, that is the tight little circle ruining my sleep, lately. In a way I am glad. Once I am through this, I will be less (way less) vulnerable to any of this. In fact, I am not so vulnerable to it while I am awake. Ha! I sound so foolish, even to myself. It's a pretty lonely thing though, to stand on the hard won ground of common sense and of detachment and of the choice to self protect instead of risking for and supporting someone you still harbor dreams for. And I do still want difficult child son to succeed, to be okay, to be a good father, and to be happy. It is a strangeness that, as is their pattern from forever, difficult child daughter will crash and burn and then, BOOM...difficult child son. Drug use complicating an already chaotic situation for difficult child daughter, and drug use creating a chaotic situation for difficult child son. It's unbelievable. How can this be my life, right?!? Deep in that secret place in the heart I was posting about earlier? That place where we keep the secret things we don't want to know? I wonder whether I even really care anymore, at all. Do you suppose we ever just stop? Just stop believing? Then we would have to look right at what is. Ew. *** difficult child son is definitely not adverse to using his children to hurt me. Poor difficult child son, though. He has used them to hurt me so much that I don't really know his children, other than through phone calls and one or two visits, at all. And ultimately...my role in their lives can be very much from the outside looking in. My job as their grandmother is simple. Believe in and love them. I can handle that without ever seeing them in person, again. Last summer, I did not even get to send cards, remember? When difficult child son refused to give me the address? And I think I felt worse about it than the grandchildren did. They were happy to get their Halloween cards and chatty as all get out about how they've been. And I get it that difficult child son hopes to reconnect me? But I was never disconnected, so I am going to handle whatever he comes up with next just fine. Which makes the kids not exactly a weapon difficult child son can use with impunity, anymore. What is the matter with me, that I need everyone to think I am nice?!? Who cares whether I am, was, or ever will be, a good mother or even, a nice mother?!? Or a bad grandma. Grr.... Remember that movie, Bad Santa? That is going to be me, in the grandma department. Cedar spits a plug of tobacco into the dust. (I have been reading a Western just lately.) :O) Cedar [/QUOTE]
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