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Family of Origin
Hope and Meaning Viktor Frankl
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 668615" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Cedar, there are many favorites. But today, right now, it is this one:</p><p></p><p>I chose to adopt a child after another dark period in my life. I hesitate to say "similarly dark" because it was like a mole hill compared to Mt. Everest. Following learning from my mother that my father had died 4 or 5 years before, I suffered and withdrew, too. Instead of years, it was months. Out of it, came the realization I could no longer live for my own goals and ambitions only. I needed to love. And I found my son.</p><p></p><p>He was my purpose. He was my meaning. My love for him was redemptive.</p><p></p><p>I believe that "redemptive" is the apt word because it renewed us both. It satisfied a deep need in me to feel that my love could work in this way, a way that it had not worked with my parents. Especially my father. My father died almost a bum. To me he had been a prince. My kiss had not worked. Instead his presence had come to degrade me. You know the story.</p><p></p><p>So with the love of my child, and by loving him, I became worthy.</p><p></p><p>And again, now, 25 years later, I no longer work. I cannot find a way for my love of my child to help him or by extension, myself.</p><p></p><p>I look to M. Why can I not love him in such a way? I do not know.</p><p></p><p>Cedar, I have so many things in my life, or potential things, to give it meaning. I could live happily going to Art school, with my Tango. Through my work. I could find a way to make it highly meaningful for others and for myself. Cornwall. I could marry M and we could go back to Argentina.</p><p></p><p>As long as I feel that my son is me, represents me, and my potential. My hope. My future. I will be tied to this despair. That it is "I" who no longer works. It is "I" who has no hope. Because I can no longer redeem him. Only he can do that. And it is as it should be.</p><p></p><p>There is a basic corruption in my identity, whereby I am tied to others, in order to feel enough. No matter how strong or certain I am at my core.</p><p></p><p>I know I have not lost my son. I know he needs me. What is no longer working is "me." I love no longer work to effect him so that he will keep himself alive. I understand this is as it should be. He is another adult.</p><p></p><p>Bereft. There is something in me that feels bereft. Let me now go look up the precise meaning.</p><p></p><p>Bereft: Deprived or lacking something, especially a non-material asset. What am I deprived of? I may have things that could give me meaning, which I have listed.</p><p></p><p>Am I on strike? Am I purposely living in the space between "stimulus and response" to which Frankl refers in another quote? Have I been living in that breath, between the two, without acting. Is that to which M is referring and you, too? The willful holding of my breath, like that child's fit, on the floor? Hoping beyond hope that the decision to as if self-destruct, to give up everything, will work, when nothing else has, to effect some response, by others? Perhaps.</p><p></p><p>So going back to the chosen quote. There are other quotes that would have better addressed this sense I have described, gaining meaning through love.</p><p></p><p>But the chosen one deals with my inability thus far to find an answer to my life. And now I am closer to seeing it is a choice.</p><p></p><p>Thank you, Cedar.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 668615, member: 18958"] Cedar, there are many favorites. But today, right now, it is this one: I chose to adopt a child after another dark period in my life. I hesitate to say "similarly dark" because it was like a mole hill compared to Mt. Everest. Following learning from my mother that my father had died 4 or 5 years before, I suffered and withdrew, too. Instead of years, it was months. Out of it, came the realization I could no longer live for my own goals and ambitions only. I needed to love. And I found my son. He was my purpose. He was my meaning. My love for him was redemptive. I believe that "redemptive" is the apt word because it renewed us both. It satisfied a deep need in me to feel that my love could work in this way, a way that it had not worked with my parents. Especially my father. My father died almost a bum. To me he had been a prince. My kiss had not worked. Instead his presence had come to degrade me. You know the story. So with the love of my child, and by loving him, I became worthy. And again, now, 25 years later, I no longer work. I cannot find a way for my love of my child to help him or by extension, myself. I look to M. Why can I not love him in such a way? I do not know. Cedar, I have so many things in my life, or potential things, to give it meaning. I could live happily going to Art school, with my Tango. Through my work. I could find a way to make it highly meaningful for others and for myself. Cornwall. I could marry M and we could go back to Argentina. As long as I feel that my son is me, represents me, and my potential. My hope. My future. I will be tied to this despair. That it is "I" who no longer works. It is "I" who has no hope. Because I can no longer redeem him. Only he can do that. And it is as it should be. There is a basic corruption in my identity, whereby I am tied to others, in order to feel enough. No matter how strong or certain I am at my core. I know I have not lost my son. I know he needs me. What is no longer working is "me." I love no longer work to effect him so that he will keep himself alive. I understand this is as it should be. He is another adult. Bereft. There is something in me that feels bereft. Let me now go look up the precise meaning. Bereft: Deprived or lacking something, especially a non-material asset. What am I deprived of? I may have things that could give me meaning, which I have listed. Am I on strike? Am I purposely living in the space between "stimulus and response" to which Frankl refers in another quote? Have I been living in that breath, between the two, without acting. Is that to which M is referring and you, too? The willful holding of my breath, like that child's fit, on the floor? Hoping beyond hope that the decision to as if self-destruct, to give up everything, will work, when nothing else has, to effect some response, by others? Perhaps. So going back to the chosen quote. There are other quotes that would have better addressed this sense I have described, gaining meaning through love. But the chosen one deals with my inability thus far to find an answer to my life. And now I am closer to seeing it is a choice. Thank you, Cedar. [/QUOTE]
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