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First new thread in a while....hoping for support.
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<blockquote data-quote="Feeling Sad" data-source="post: 703413" data-attributes="member: 19245"><p>Greetings, dear sister, Leafy! It is so nice to hear from you. I agree with both, you and Copa, completely.</p><p></p><p>I hate this expression...but I will use it anyway. 'As one get older' you find that things you used to tolerate you find, not so much intolerable, but rather, that you do not HAVE TO tolerate.</p><p></p><p>I do not know if it was my brother's death, or seeing myself and FEELING myself getting older. Yes, I can cling onto my guilt and anger. To what expense? I feel that my health has been negatively impacted for years...and years...and, sadly, years... Can I get this time back? Have I enjoyed feeling all of this pain and turmoil?</p><p></p><p>Leafy, I stayed strong, like you, for my youngest son. When I didn't seem to care about my own safety, my son's safety stood as a beacon to remind me to make the safest decision. I had disassociated, or blocked out my fear since childhood, but as a mother, you can clearly see the fear in their eyes.</p><p></p><p>This is possibly the worst Thanksgiving ever, but here I am. My brother, ill sister, and parents are gone. I drove up the coast and met my son, who is going to school up north, in an idyllic beach town...Morro Bay. He is still struggling with his depression and casually threatens suicide. It breaks my heart, but I am helpless.</p><p></p><p>For 3 days he would get mad and say that he hated me and that he was leaving. I would sadly shuffle off someplace in town, blinking back my tears, like a sad robot trying to blend into the throes of happy holiday shoppers WITH their families. Sunglasses aided me in this pitiful ruse. He would then text me, "Would you like to meet for lunch?" It has become the sad and disfunctional 'dance' we dance. After our last parting, he always texts me that he should never treat me that way and that he is sorry. I then texts me that he loves me.</p><p></p><p>I cannot tell you how draining this experience is to me. It is as if I was dog-paddling to stay alive. With my ordeals and sorrow, I am able to just keep part of my face above water. But, then, I grab my son, emotionally, into the folds of my struggling arms, and continue to try to stay above water.</p><p></p><p>The analogy is not about death, but rather emotional death. We are all trying to have reasonably sane, safe, and somewhat happy lives. When do WE become important...and worth saving?</p><p></p><p>He tells me not to come up to meet. He tells me that he is not feeling well. But, he is my son, so again it is 'the moth to the flame'. After all, isn't it the holidays?</p><p></p><p>Each year is going by faster. I feel that I notice this fact even more because of the holiday crafts, or rather, seasonal crafts that we make in class...winter crafts as opposed to Christmas crafts.</p><p></p><p>I am tired. I am now alone in my house. I do not have the luxury of having my homeless schizophrenic son back now that my youngest son in living in his own house in town. I do not know where he is. I filed a restraining order. My heart literally constantly aches for him.</p><p></p><p>If I did have that choice, sadly, it would very well be the moth to the flame...literally because I could be killed by him in a psychotic rage.</p><p></p><p>So, I sit here alone. Boundaries. Yes, boundaries are healthy, both emotionally and physically. Their familial ties do not give them the privilege to take these rights away. One day, we will be gone. Then what will they do?</p><p></p><p>I would be considered a lousy teacher if I did not daily train for independence in my students. I am arming them with useful strategies and intelligence to meet the world head on. Why should we do less for our own precious children?</p><p></p><p>We are compelled to set up boundaries and keep reasonable expectations of them while they are near us or living someplace that we own. No less should be tolerated.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Feeling Sad, post: 703413, member: 19245"] Greetings, dear sister, Leafy! It is so nice to hear from you. I agree with both, you and Copa, completely. I hate this expression...but I will use it anyway. 'As one get older' you find that things you used to tolerate you find, not so much intolerable, but rather, that you do not HAVE TO tolerate. I do not know if it was my brother's death, or seeing myself and FEELING myself getting older. Yes, I can cling onto my guilt and anger. To what expense? I feel that my health has been negatively impacted for years...and years...and, sadly, years... Can I get this time back? Have I enjoyed feeling all of this pain and turmoil? Leafy, I stayed strong, like you, for my youngest son. When I didn't seem to care about my own safety, my son's safety stood as a beacon to remind me to make the safest decision. I had disassociated, or blocked out my fear since childhood, but as a mother, you can clearly see the fear in their eyes. This is possibly the worst Thanksgiving ever, but here I am. My brother, ill sister, and parents are gone. I drove up the coast and met my son, who is going to school up north, in an idyllic beach town...Morro Bay. He is still struggling with his depression and casually threatens suicide. It breaks my heart, but I am helpless. For 3 days he would get mad and say that he hated me and that he was leaving. I would sadly shuffle off someplace in town, blinking back my tears, like a sad robot trying to blend into the throes of happy holiday shoppers WITH their families. Sunglasses aided me in this pitiful ruse. He would then text me, "Would you like to meet for lunch?" It has become the sad and disfunctional 'dance' we dance. After our last parting, he always texts me that he should never treat me that way and that he is sorry. I then texts me that he loves me. I cannot tell you how draining this experience is to me. It is as if I was dog-paddling to stay alive. With my ordeals and sorrow, I am able to just keep part of my face above water. But, then, I grab my son, emotionally, into the folds of my struggling arms, and continue to try to stay above water. The analogy is not about death, but rather emotional death. We are all trying to have reasonably sane, safe, and somewhat happy lives. When do WE become important...and worth saving? He tells me not to come up to meet. He tells me that he is not feeling well. But, he is my son, so again it is 'the moth to the flame'. After all, isn't it the holidays? Each year is going by faster. I feel that I notice this fact even more because of the holiday crafts, or rather, seasonal crafts that we make in class...winter crafts as opposed to Christmas crafts. I am tired. I am now alone in my house. I do not have the luxury of having my homeless schizophrenic son back now that my youngest son in living in his own house in town. I do not know where he is. I filed a restraining order. My heart literally constantly aches for him. If I did have that choice, sadly, it would very well be the moth to the flame...literally because I could be killed by him in a psychotic rage. So, I sit here alone. Boundaries. Yes, boundaries are healthy, both emotionally and physically. Their familial ties do not give them the privilege to take these rights away. One day, we will be gone. Then what will they do? I would be considered a lousy teacher if I did not daily train for independence in my students. I am arming them with useful strategies and intelligence to meet the world head on. Why should we do less for our own precious children? We are compelled to set up boundaries and keep reasonable expectations of them while they are near us or living someplace that we own. No less should be tolerated. [/QUOTE]
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