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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 653024" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>I am able to see and to feel the wrongness, the injustice, in the things that have happened to me through thinking about what happened, to you. You know that feeling, where you know that what passes for normal in your family is not normal, but you don't get how hurtful and stupidly rotten it was or is?</p><p></p><p>I am seeing the things, the rules and mores and belief systems that create and justify and even, celebrate, the toxicity in my dysfunctional family of origin.</p><p></p><p>The thing that has me on the ropes this morning is that the toxicity is a living, active, spoiled and stinking thing, even today.</p><p></p><p>(Little purple prose, there.)</p><p></p><p>We are both able to see and clear the woundings through the compassion we feel for one another's pain, I think. It's like I race out to protect you and find myself, vulnerable and alone and trapped in some old poison, in some so stupidly meaningless, poisonous thing, instead.</p><p></p><p>Thank you.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>That's the part I cannot get over. How much harm was done for such a stupidly cheap reward.</p><p></p><p>I cannot find compassion for her, for my mother. Not yet. To go back to the Wizard of Oz analogy. Why did the Wizard set up that curtained booth, create and pretend to a reality he knew was not real, in the first place? It wasn't that he couldn't help it. (It wasn't that my mother could not help the terrible things she did. Of course she knew better; of course it was not just that she was overwhelmed. Man, I cannot believe what this looks like, seen from this new perspective.)</p><p></p><p>My sister called again, yesterday. </p><p></p><p>I see her so differently. I am so angry with her, now.</p><p></p><p>Can it be true that they are doing what they seem to be doing? Could it possibly be true that they are <em>and that they know it?</em></p><p></p><p>I have posted here before about my mother's seeming joy in what she described as the jealousy (over her) between my sister and myself.</p><p></p><p>?</p><p></p><p>What kind of person thinks like I am thinking.</p><p></p><p>No wonder I have never really considered that these things could be true. What is true is that I do not think like them. </p><p></p><p>Well, halleluiah on that one.</p><p></p><p>But they must have the same capacity to take a look at what they are doing that I do.</p><p></p><p>Maybe they don't know what they are doing.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Suzir has an interesting thread going about a concept called Schadenfreude. This word describes those feelings surrounding our concepts of justice and vengeance and hope.</p><p></p><p>It's an interesting discussion.</p><p></p><p>Vengeance, thoughts of vengeance surprising in their vehemence, hit me right between the eyes when I uncover the truth about what happened to me, and about what it cost all of us, and about how wrong and paltry was the reason for which we were all hurt like that, twisted like that.</p><p></p><p>It's like I can't believe it happened, can't believe someone would knowingly choose to create that reality instead of something better. Then comes the concept, courtesy of Maya Angelou, that when we know better we do better.</p><p></p><p>My mom is not doing better.</p><p></p><p>She means it. She meant it when my father died. Coldly manipulative, even in her widowhood.</p><p></p><p>?</p><p></p><p>It wasn't that there were too many kids, or that the husband was any of the terrible things she would say the second his back was turned or right in front of him, once his hearing went.</p><p></p><p>There is so much more along those same lines. Things I see now without that ready-made veil of compassion, of "there must have been something so terrible in her past" or "she didn't mean it".</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p>I remember determining that I would do what needed to be done to bring us all back together. I wish I had never done that.</p><p></p><p>Maybe it really is true that some things cannot be healed or understood or forgiven.</p><p></p><p>Or maybe, forgiveness sometimes looks like: "I see you. I see me, come aware and letting go."</p><p></p><p>Good for me, and good for you.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 653024, member: 17461"] I am able to see and to feel the wrongness, the injustice, in the things that have happened to me through thinking about what happened, to you. You know that feeling, where you know that what passes for normal in your family is not normal, but you don't get how hurtful and stupidly rotten it was or is? I am seeing the things, the rules and mores and belief systems that create and justify and even, celebrate, the toxicity in my dysfunctional family of origin. The thing that has me on the ropes this morning is that the toxicity is a living, active, spoiled and stinking thing, even today. (Little purple prose, there.) We are both able to see and clear the woundings through the compassion we feel for one another's pain, I think. It's like I race out to protect you and find myself, vulnerable and alone and trapped in some old poison, in some so stupidly meaningless, poisonous thing, instead. Thank you. :O) That's the part I cannot get over. How much harm was done for such a stupidly cheap reward. I cannot find compassion for her, for my mother. Not yet. To go back to the Wizard of Oz analogy. Why did the Wizard set up that curtained booth, create and pretend to a reality he knew was not real, in the first place? It wasn't that he couldn't help it. (It wasn't that my mother could not help the terrible things she did. Of course she knew better; of course it was not just that she was overwhelmed. Man, I cannot believe what this looks like, seen from this new perspective.) My sister called again, yesterday. I see her so differently. I am so angry with her, now. Can it be true that they are doing what they seem to be doing? Could it possibly be true that they are [I]and that they know it?[/I] I have posted here before about my mother's seeming joy in what she described as the jealousy (over her) between my sister and myself. ? What kind of person thinks like I am thinking. No wonder I have never really considered that these things could be true. What is true is that I do not think like them. Well, halleluiah on that one. But they must have the same capacity to take a look at what they are doing that I do. Maybe they don't know what they are doing. Suzir has an interesting thread going about a concept called Schadenfreude. This word describes those feelings surrounding our concepts of justice and vengeance and hope. It's an interesting discussion. Vengeance, thoughts of vengeance surprising in their vehemence, hit me right between the eyes when I uncover the truth about what happened to me, and about what it cost all of us, and about how wrong and paltry was the reason for which we were all hurt like that, twisted like that. It's like I can't believe it happened, can't believe someone would knowingly choose to create that reality instead of something better. Then comes the concept, courtesy of Maya Angelou, that when we know better we do better. My mom is not doing better. She means it. She meant it when my father died. Coldly manipulative, even in her widowhood. ? It wasn't that there were too many kids, or that the husband was any of the terrible things she would say the second his back was turned or right in front of him, once his hearing went. There is so much more along those same lines. Things I see now without that ready-made veil of compassion, of "there must have been something so terrible in her past" or "she didn't mean it". Cedar I remember determining that I would do what needed to be done to bring us all back together. I wish I had never done that. Maybe it really is true that some things cannot be healed or understood or forgiven. Or maybe, forgiveness sometimes looks like: "I see you. I see me, come aware and letting go." Good for me, and good for you. [/QUOTE]
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