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Did I give birth to an unicorn? Or three easy steps to become a guru
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 664732" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>This is so tough. So, so tough.</p><p></p><p>These are the only parents we ever had or ever will have. As much or more, the only selves we know are the ones created in our interactions with the parents we had. Limited as they might have been.</p><p></p><p>To confront this feels if the cost is both the loss of the parent, and the loss of one's own self.</p><p></p><p>Of course the gain is to know and feel one's own life as it really was, without the horrible distortions that we took on as children to avoid a fate we feared even more.</p><p>The question here is this: do you love yourself in the way you need, now as an adult? Are you present in your life fully as a person, mother, and wife? What might be the filters or blinders or modifications, that a young Suzir adopted in order to placate or pacify her parents...in order to survive, as best she could?</p><p>How many other times did he ditch you, Suzir, without a care in the world? Or compromise you? Or overlook you? Or not care at all when your spirit was crushed or compromised?</p><p></p><p>Because my mother has died I am playing a deadly game. Almost Russian Roulette. There are no more chances for me to make corrections or to try again, to make it better. The story has played out for eternity, of my mother and me.</p><p></p><p>The thing is, I am not recovering myself, since her death.</p><p></p><p>I try to sacrifice myself in order that she live. I try to sacrifice myself so that my memory of her as a good mother, live.</p><p></p><p>That my memory live of my mother as a good mother, I must over and over again kill myself off. I make myself the bad child. So that she may live as a good mother. Any sense of competency. Strength. Purpose. Adequacy. Promise. I kill off in myself.</p><p></p><p>To let my mother go to eternity, I must let her die. Let her go. But I do not want to because I need more chances. I want a do over. To do what? To sacrifice more in relationship to her? To have given her more chances to either hurt me or to see myself as lacking or not good enough?</p><p></p><p>My relationship with my mother was what they call a zero sum game. There was only so much. My mother got as much as she needed and wanted. I got what was left. Not much. Or nothing at all. While she lived, I did not accept these terms.</p><p></p><p>Now that she has died, I do. Because I want her back. I am willing to accept nothing at all. No life. No self. No future. No past. In order to get my mother back.</p><p></p><p>The problem with this is that I am forced to see, finally, in an emotional sense what it was like to be the child of my mother. By my stance now, I have to see what the terms were that she demanded of her baby girl.</p><p></p><p>Even still. I am willing to accept them, to keep my mother with me. The illusion that she loved me enough, as limited as that was.</p><p></p><p>The thing is I love her so much that I want with all my heart to now play the game by her rules. Even to lose. Over and over again. Because to me, that is what love is. To lose over and over again. And I still want to. Especially now.</p><p></p><p>I keep trying. I keep losing and losing. Again and again, because I want my Mama back. I want my Mama. I need her and I want her. I will pay anything. Do anything to get her back. On her terms now. Terms I had rejected my whole adult life.</p><p></p><p>But it is not working. Because she is gone. And no matter how much and how many times I am willing to throw myself under the bus in order to get her back, so that she will love me, it is not working.</p><p></p><p>Because she is gone. Sometimes I want to die too.</p><p></p><p>My life has turned into Ground Hog Day. Where I keep playing and re-playing the same tape. Of self-sacrifice so that she will come back and then I will be able to live.</p><p></p><p>I wonder how many times and for how long I will have to keep repeating this to understand and accept that this was the latent relationship I had within myself with my mother. I had to kill off a part of myself in order to live.</p><p></p><p>I am trying to see my mother for who she was. The creator and ringmaster of a family that required her daughter bind and wound herself; of a Hobbesian world for her two little girls, an atmosphere so conflictual, impoverished and desperate that we learned to see each other as enemies to be under cut and destroyed.</p><p></p><p>I am trying to find empathy for myself and for my sister. I am trying to learn to see us as little girls who deserved care and understanding and consideration and protection. I am trying to no longer in my own psyche to absolve my mother, to pardon or excuse her. At the expense of myself.</p><p></p><p>It is slow going. My default is to keep doing this. To sacrifice myself so that my mother will win. And my sister, too.</p><p></p><p>I can see from an adult's eyes the costs to me now and before of this perspective in life and in my self. One of subordination and self-sacrifice so that one's intense and deepest needs for connection and for belonging and acceptance have the possibility of being met. And are not.</p><p></p><p>Had I had a choice, I would have let all of this pain remain submerged. I did not have a choice.</p><p></p><p>While I can easily accept that I felt abused by my mother's hand I still recoil at the idea that my beloved mother was my abuser.</p><p></p><p>I needed more from my mother. As a child I cut myself off at the knees to survive in the atmosphere my mother created. My relationship with her throughout my life was defined and limited by the reality that I interacted with her as a handicapped person. Even when she wanted more...I could not do it...because internally I had cut off part of myself in relation to her.</p><p></p><p>With my mother or anybody else I could not all of a sudden regenerate the capacities I had abandoned as a small girl.</p><p></p><p>I am working hard now to try to accept on a deep level that my life was the way it was. I always knew what it was. It is I did not feel the effects as I am feeling them now. I think I warded off the suffering that is incumbent in being that person who was sacrificed. The gain would be that I might be a person now; that I might live without tying a limb behind my back, for the rest of my life that remains.</p><p></p><p>My frustration is still that I do not want to lose my mother. I still want her. I keep trying to seduce her to stay with me...at whatever the cost to myself. I still want to sacrifice myself to keep my mother with me.</p><p></p><p>So, I keep working and working at it. That one day I will see that I am worth it and worthy. That the relationship worth having is me with myself. That I might step up one day, and say, I am all you need. I am enough.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 664732, member: 18958"] This is so tough. So, so tough. These are the only parents we ever had or ever will have. As much or more, the only selves we know are the ones created in our interactions with the parents we had. Limited as they might have been. To confront this feels if the cost is both the loss of the parent, and the loss of one's own self. Of course the gain is to know and feel one's own life as it really was, without the horrible distortions that we took on as children to avoid a fate we feared even more. The question here is this: do you love yourself in the way you need, now as an adult? Are you present in your life fully as a person, mother, and wife? What might be the filters or blinders or modifications, that a young Suzir adopted in order to placate or pacify her parents...in order to survive, as best she could? How many other times did he ditch you, Suzir, without a care in the world? Or compromise you? Or overlook you? Or not care at all when your spirit was crushed or compromised? Because my mother has died I am playing a deadly game. Almost Russian Roulette. There are no more chances for me to make corrections or to try again, to make it better. The story has played out for eternity, of my mother and me. The thing is, I am not recovering myself, since her death. I try to sacrifice myself in order that she live. I try to sacrifice myself so that my memory of her as a good mother, live. That my memory live of my mother as a good mother, I must over and over again kill myself off. I make myself the bad child. So that she may live as a good mother. Any sense of competency. Strength. Purpose. Adequacy. Promise. I kill off in myself. To let my mother go to eternity, I must let her die. Let her go. But I do not want to because I need more chances. I want a do over. To do what? To sacrifice more in relationship to her? To have given her more chances to either hurt me or to see myself as lacking or not good enough? My relationship with my mother was what they call a zero sum game. There was only so much. My mother got as much as she needed and wanted. I got what was left. Not much. Or nothing at all. While she lived, I did not accept these terms. Now that she has died, I do. Because I want her back. I am willing to accept nothing at all. No life. No self. No future. No past. In order to get my mother back. The problem with this is that I am forced to see, finally, in an emotional sense what it was like to be the child of my mother. By my stance now, I have to see what the terms were that she demanded of her baby girl. Even still. I am willing to accept them, to keep my mother with me. The illusion that she loved me enough, as limited as that was. The thing is I love her so much that I want with all my heart to now play the game by her rules. Even to lose. Over and over again. Because to me, that is what love is. To lose over and over again. And I still want to. Especially now. I keep trying. I keep losing and losing. Again and again, because I want my Mama back. I want my Mama. I need her and I want her. I will pay anything. Do anything to get her back. On her terms now. Terms I had rejected my whole adult life. But it is not working. Because she is gone. And no matter how much and how many times I am willing to throw myself under the bus in order to get her back, so that she will love me, it is not working. Because she is gone. Sometimes I want to die too. My life has turned into Ground Hog Day. Where I keep playing and re-playing the same tape. Of self-sacrifice so that she will come back and then I will be able to live. I wonder how many times and for how long I will have to keep repeating this to understand and accept that this was the latent relationship I had within myself with my mother. I had to kill off a part of myself in order to live. I am trying to see my mother for who she was. The creator and ringmaster of a family that required her daughter bind and wound herself; of a Hobbesian world for her two little girls, an atmosphere so conflictual, impoverished and desperate that we learned to see each other as enemies to be under cut and destroyed. I am trying to find empathy for myself and for my sister. I am trying to learn to see us as little girls who deserved care and understanding and consideration and protection. I am trying to no longer in my own psyche to absolve my mother, to pardon or excuse her. At the expense of myself. It is slow going. My default is to keep doing this. To sacrifice myself so that my mother will win. And my sister, too. I can see from an adult's eyes the costs to me now and before of this perspective in life and in my self. One of subordination and self-sacrifice so that one's intense and deepest needs for connection and for belonging and acceptance have the possibility of being met. And are not. Had I had a choice, I would have let all of this pain remain submerged. I did not have a choice. While I can easily accept that I felt abused by my mother's hand I still recoil at the idea that my beloved mother was my abuser. I needed more from my mother. As a child I cut myself off at the knees to survive in the atmosphere my mother created. My relationship with her throughout my life was defined and limited by the reality that I interacted with her as a handicapped person. Even when she wanted more...I could not do it...because internally I had cut off part of myself in relation to her. With my mother or anybody else I could not all of a sudden regenerate the capacities I had abandoned as a small girl. I am working hard now to try to accept on a deep level that my life was the way it was. I always knew what it was. It is I did not feel the effects as I am feeling them now. I think I warded off the suffering that is incumbent in being that person who was sacrificed. The gain would be that I might be a person now; that I might live without tying a limb behind my back, for the rest of my life that remains. My frustration is still that I do not want to lose my mother. I still want her. I keep trying to seduce her to stay with me...at whatever the cost to myself. I still want to sacrifice myself to keep my mother with me. So, I keep working and working at it. That one day I will see that I am worth it and worthy. That the relationship worth having is me with myself. That I might step up one day, and say, I am all you need. I am enough. [/QUOTE]
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