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Family of Origin
Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 658261" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I do not anticipate not posting to this board. But of course it will happen that each of us will move on. Sometime.</p><p></p><p>You have touched on the fear, the vulnerability that comes from virtual friendships.</p><p></p><p>I have not before done anything like this.</p><p></p><p>I was desperate, so I tried. This last thing.</p><p></p><p>I see it as not unlike therapy where we put forth everything, a hundred percent of our hopes, our fears...and the therapist is present, but not as she is in real life.</p><p></p><p>We exist and do not exist for each other, and that is the power and risk, of this thing we do.</p><p></p><p>It cannot take the place of a real life. For me, I really need to get out of bed, that is true. And I will.</p><p></p><p>What you have given me Cedar, if it were to stop now, with no new posts, would be enough.</p><p></p><p>I would want more, but it would have been enough. I am sad now with the thought of losing you, the part of yourself that you have shared.</p><p></p><p>What you share with us, many of us have not had. I do not recall having had.</p><p></p><p>I will have ME, pieces of me, that you have touched, woken up. Which was asleep.</p><p></p><p>I remember in an early posting, about Mother stuff, I posted something vague and flowery about love and regret.</p><p></p><p>You as much as slapped me in the face, Cedar. You knew the stakes. And you said them:</p><p></p><p>Your child is at stake. Was your rebuke. And it smarted, but I dug down. And found some of me there. The part of me I had tried to kill off after my Mother died.</p><p></p><p>(Have not yet responded to that lovely post of yours about just why I went to bed, and am still there. Lucky me. I still have that gift of a post, from you.)</p><p></p><p>And because of your generosity, to me and others, I recovered more of me. And created new things, that may or may not have existed but if they did, I was not paying attention.</p><p></p><p>You know already that I am and will be healthy and strong.</p><p></p><p>Your kindness and gentle caring soothe us and calm us. While you require that we step up and take responsibility.</p><p></p><p>So, I am posting to tell you Cedar that I am whole and strong again. And I will remind you of this each time we post again, on this thread or another like it, if we do.</p><p></p><p>Every single time. As if it is the last time.</p><p></p><p>And I will remember this and you always. Somewhere. I just hope there are a few more posts.</p><p></p><p>PS If this sounds like a love letter. It is.</p><p></p><p>This thing we are doing I am finding so captivating...</p><p>I burnt the rice. Not in any normal way.</p><p></p><p>That is how I do it. I bring the rice to a full boil. Reduce the heat and cover.</p><p></p><p>Except this time. I left the room while the heat was on high. To respond to a post. I went to the other end of the house. To post.</p><p></p><p>I smelt something burning.</p><p></p><p>Oh. Something is burning. I wonder what M is doing. Feeling all self-satisfied and content. I wonder what he is doing or somebody else is doing that may be creating a danger. I thought.</p><p></p><p>Sometime later. Stronger smell of burning. Oh dear. What is somebody doing to make it smell like the house is burning down? Foolhardy people. What is M doing to cause this bad smell? Like the house is burning down.</p><p></p><p>Sometime Later, Still typing, I am.</p><p></p><p>Sometime later. We are talking here maybe 45 minutes after I have noticed the smell of burning. Never thinking, not remembering for one second that I put the rice on HIGH HEAT.</p><p></p><p>I go to the kitchen. M is there hunched over a burnt cast iron pot in the sink. Burnt rice. Stinky kitchen.</p><p></p><p>Why did you not tell me you needed me to watch the rice. You could have burnt yourself and the house down, had I not been here. In Spanish.</p><p></p><p>Oh.</p><p></p><p>No Cedar. This is exactly what happens. Happened to friends. Happened to my sister.</p><p></p><p>For my sister, I think this was a real turning point. When she began to realize that <u>all</u> of her hopes and dreams' fulfillment may be out of sight. Up until then it all had been possible.</p><p></p><p>Where did any of us get the idea that we could or should have it all?</p><p></p><p>The house (almost) on the beach in a fabled city. Almost a mansion.</p><p></p><p>One begins to want more...in her case I think it was something to do with sexual love. Real love, I do not know. She had married a man for babies and for wealth and for security and support. And it came to be not enough.</p><p></p><p>And I think when she at last had seen that she could not have it all; although she sure, by anybody else's standards had a lot; she became bitter.</p><p></p><p>And began to justify ANYTHING at all she had to do to get what she wanted. Because after all in her dreams it was already hers.</p><p></p><p>It was then that the thwarted sense of entitlement became twisted to become: I can do whatever it is that I have to do...because I deserve it. Anything I want. To get what I deserve.</p><p></p><p>And because I have to do it...it is alright. To get what I deserve.</p><p></p><p>As I write this I wonder how it sounds, what we sound like to others. Like Desperate Housewives, or that Paris Hilton show, Rich girls in the country or something. Or some Reality Show where people think they are going for the gold in life and they have everything all wrong. Just all wrong.</p><p></p><p>I do not know how it turned out that little girls...with nobody and nothing...to help and protect them...ended up in this mess. Of feeling the need to have and be something special...in order to have any worth at all, to anybody. But that has been our story.</p><p></p><p>But that is how it was for my poor sister and I. We felt like nothing and nobody, unless we achieved titles, or stuff. That is the real story.</p><p></p><p>It is like really, the only way to feel that we were anything at all was to WRITE BIG these identities we created. Because we really were nothing at all. Felt like just nothing.</p><p></p><p>So we become Not-us on some level. Trying to negate the need, the abandonment. The vulnerability. The defects. By becoming somebody. But never, ever could escape the truth.</p><p></p><p>So the one true thing became the defect. For me.</p><p></p><p>Can I be alpha-female, after all?</p><p></p><p>For my sister, I do not know, what is her one true, real thing. </p><p></p><p>How this may fit in with my self as a mother I fear looking at, but will.</p><p></p><p>Thank you Cedar.</p><p></p><p>Copa,</p><p></p><p>Whole, healthy and strong.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 658261, member: 18958"] I do not anticipate not posting to this board. But of course it will happen that each of us will move on. Sometime. You have touched on the fear, the vulnerability that comes from virtual friendships. I have not before done anything like this. I was desperate, so I tried. This last thing. I see it as not unlike therapy where we put forth everything, a hundred percent of our hopes, our fears...and the therapist is present, but not as she is in real life. We exist and do not exist for each other, and that is the power and risk, of this thing we do. It cannot take the place of a real life. For me, I really need to get out of bed, that is true. And I will. What you have given me Cedar, if it were to stop now, with no new posts, would be enough. I would want more, but it would have been enough. I am sad now with the thought of losing you, the part of yourself that you have shared. What you share with us, many of us have not had. I do not recall having had. I will have ME, pieces of me, that you have touched, woken up. Which was asleep. I remember in an early posting, about Mother stuff, I posted something vague and flowery about love and regret. You as much as slapped me in the face, Cedar. You knew the stakes. And you said them: Your child is at stake. Was your rebuke. And it smarted, but I dug down. And found some of me there. The part of me I had tried to kill off after my Mother died. (Have not yet responded to that lovely post of yours about just why I went to bed, and am still there. Lucky me. I still have that gift of a post, from you.) And because of your generosity, to me and others, I recovered more of me. And created new things, that may or may not have existed but if they did, I was not paying attention. You know already that I am and will be healthy and strong. Your kindness and gentle caring soothe us and calm us. While you require that we step up and take responsibility. So, I am posting to tell you Cedar that I am whole and strong again. And I will remind you of this each time we post again, on this thread or another like it, if we do. Every single time. As if it is the last time. And I will remember this and you always. Somewhere. I just hope there are a few more posts. PS If this sounds like a love letter. It is. This thing we are doing I am finding so captivating... I burnt the rice. Not in any normal way. That is how I do it. I bring the rice to a full boil. Reduce the heat and cover. Except this time. I left the room while the heat was on high. To respond to a post. I went to the other end of the house. To post. I smelt something burning. Oh. Something is burning. I wonder what M is doing. Feeling all self-satisfied and content. I wonder what he is doing or somebody else is doing that may be creating a danger. I thought. Sometime later. Stronger smell of burning. Oh dear. What is somebody doing to make it smell like the house is burning down? Foolhardy people. What is M doing to cause this bad smell? Like the house is burning down. Sometime Later, Still typing, I am. Sometime later. We are talking here maybe 45 minutes after I have noticed the smell of burning. Never thinking, not remembering for one second that I put the rice on HIGH HEAT. I go to the kitchen. M is there hunched over a burnt cast iron pot in the sink. Burnt rice. Stinky kitchen. Why did you not tell me you needed me to watch the rice. You could have burnt yourself and the house down, had I not been here. In Spanish. Oh. No Cedar. This is exactly what happens. Happened to friends. Happened to my sister. For my sister, I think this was a real turning point. When she began to realize that [U]all[/U] of her hopes and dreams' fulfillment may be out of sight. Up until then it all had been possible. Where did any of us get the idea that we could or should have it all? The house (almost) on the beach in a fabled city. Almost a mansion. One begins to want more...in her case I think it was something to do with sexual love. Real love, I do not know. She had married a man for babies and for wealth and for security and support. And it came to be not enough. And I think when she at last had seen that she could not have it all; although she sure, by anybody else's standards had a lot; she became bitter. And began to justify ANYTHING at all she had to do to get what she wanted. Because after all in her dreams it was already hers. It was then that the thwarted sense of entitlement became twisted to become: I can do whatever it is that I have to do...because I deserve it. Anything I want. To get what I deserve. And because I have to do it...it is alright. To get what I deserve. As I write this I wonder how it sounds, what we sound like to others. Like Desperate Housewives, or that Paris Hilton show, Rich girls in the country or something. Or some Reality Show where people think they are going for the gold in life and they have everything all wrong. Just all wrong. I do not know how it turned out that little girls...with nobody and nothing...to help and protect them...ended up in this mess. Of feeling the need to have and be something special...in order to have any worth at all, to anybody. But that has been our story. But that is how it was for my poor sister and I. We felt like nothing and nobody, unless we achieved titles, or stuff. That is the real story. It is like really, the only way to feel that we were anything at all was to WRITE BIG these identities we created. Because we really were nothing at all. Felt like just nothing. So we become Not-us on some level. Trying to negate the need, the abandonment. The vulnerability. The defects. By becoming somebody. But never, ever could escape the truth. So the one true thing became the defect. For me. Can I be alpha-female, after all? For my sister, I do not know, what is her one true, real thing. How this may fit in with my self as a mother I fear looking at, but will. Thank you Cedar. Copa, Whole, healthy and strong. [/QUOTE]
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Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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