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Family of Origin
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: 665111" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I think there is substance here. Because you know that <em>I lost my confidence driving at home after I had traveled the world alone</em>.</p><p></p><p>My mother would never in her life drive freeways. And that is the capacity I lost.</p><p>So, looked at it that way, getting up and returning to bed is a means to externalize concretely something that is happening inside me. A way to understand it, through the physical behavior I am re-enacting over and over again. Making visible a conflict.</p><p></p><p>Perhaps the same conflict as was played out through the driving. </p><p></p><p>The question I am having now, is this: Will this pattern of returning to bed, be chosen by me? Will, it finally be enough because I say so? Or is it dependent upon learning something, discerning something, accepting something, in a way I have not yet done?</p><p></p><p>If I could get out of bed <em>and drive</em>....again. That would be something. </p><p></p><p>Thank you very much, ladies.</p><p></p><p>Suzir, I wish I could find that book. I have been searching on Amazon and Goodreads. I must have the author's name wrong. I thought it was Gerald Woolf. </p><p></p><p>The author's father was a con-artist. Attractive to look at and be around. Without a moral compass that guides him to protect others, even those he loves. Or even himself. </p><p> </p><p>The book begins at the moment that the son receives a phone call that the father has died. With the son's guilt that his first feeling was relief that it had not been one of his children who had met danger or death. </p><p></p><p>I read the book with my own father in mind. I had to struggle with the deaths of both of my parents with the awareness that I had separated myself from them, to protect myself. I had guilt in the same way this man did.</p><p></p><p>I do not know what it would have been like to read these posts, from the perspective of having a living parent from whom I had not detached. There is so much here...of regret....I cannot even comment further. </p><p></p><p>I seem to have great regret that I had not had the strength to maintain a better, more complete relationship with my mother. </p><p></p><p>But I think as you describe it your father was more peripheral to your life and less central to your care and to your identity. Perhaps you have a range of choices that I did not have or greater strength, or both. </p><p></p><p>I will keep looking for the book.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 665111, member: 18958"] I think there is substance here. Because you know that [I]I lost my confidence driving at home after I had traveled the world alone[/I]. My mother would never in her life drive freeways. And that is the capacity I lost. So, looked at it that way, getting up and returning to bed is a means to externalize concretely something that is happening inside me. A way to understand it, through the physical behavior I am re-enacting over and over again. Making visible a conflict. Perhaps the same conflict as was played out through the driving. The question I am having now, is this: Will this pattern of returning to bed, be chosen by me? Will, it finally be enough because I say so? Or is it dependent upon learning something, discerning something, accepting something, in a way I have not yet done? If I could get out of bed [I]and drive[/I]....again. That would be something. Thank you very much, ladies. Suzir, I wish I could find that book. I have been searching on Amazon and Goodreads. I must have the author's name wrong. I thought it was Gerald Woolf. The author's father was a con-artist. Attractive to look at and be around. Without a moral compass that guides him to protect others, even those he loves. Or even himself. The book begins at the moment that the son receives a phone call that the father has died. With the son's guilt that his first feeling was relief that it had not been one of his children who had met danger or death. I read the book with my own father in mind. I had to struggle with the deaths of both of my parents with the awareness that I had separated myself from them, to protect myself. I had guilt in the same way this man did. I do not know what it would have been like to read these posts, from the perspective of having a living parent from whom I had not detached. There is so much here...of regret....I cannot even comment further. I seem to have great regret that I had not had the strength to maintain a better, more complete relationship with my mother. But I think as you describe it your father was more peripheral to your life and less central to your care and to your identity. Perhaps you have a range of choices that I did not have or greater strength, or both. I will keep looking for the book. [/QUOTE]
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Did I give birth to an unicorn? Or three easy steps to become a guru
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