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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 752664" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'"><span style="color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">You did not fail.</span></span></p> <p style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'"><span style="color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">I don't know where this comes from. Is it guilt, still?</span></span></p> <p style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'"><span style="color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">This is true. I have never, ever questioned the necessity of your stepping away from Kay. Number one, it's not my right. Number two, I think you're doing everything right. At great cost to you. Still. </span></span></p><p>There is a deep pain in me. That I think some of us here share. I had a father who was dissolute, depraved, lost. In the last 5 or 6 years of his life, I would not see him or speak to him.</p><p></p><p>I was sickened by being around him: his self-indulgence; his cruelty. I could no longer tell myself lies that he was anything other than a fallen man. Shortly after I learned of his death, (he had died on skid row 4 years before I found out), I adopted my son, whose birth parents lived in some ways like my father. It does not take Freud to figure out that I was seeking some sort of redemption for myself or my life. At that point, all I knew was that I loved my son. I did not face that adopting him would bring me to have to face the other side of the equation: that my son would have to plumb depths and a lifestyle of his birth parents. And I with him.</p><p></p><p>I think all of this with my own father must be triggered. Because I was the one who turned away from him. I took a hard left. I didn't look back. It makes it impossibly hard with my son. Because all of this is triggered. That I keep trying with my son is not strength. It may be love, but it's not strength. It's trauma. I have trauma both ways. If my son is near. Or far.</p><p></p><p>And then to do the work, I did, in prisons, with men (less women) who others believed were close to irredeemable, this, too, I know must have been a deep belief that I am irredeemable by virtue of my father's fate. I must on some level believe I am lost, too. I must believe I am Kay, too. Or my father. There was that movie title, I think called, Dancing as fast as you can. I think that was me. And always afraid when the music stops.</p><p></p><p>Please do not think that there is anything clean or right about what I do.</p><p>In no way do I question (or have a right to) your decision with Kay. What you write about her behavior is chilling. You could not do more than you have done. But what you did, was not wrong, in my view.</p><p></p><p>We, none of us, are better or more capable parents. That's the trap that all of us are thrust into. We judge ourselves, and are judged by others. It's not about good or bad. Everything I write here is an attempt to help myself and others to not fall into the trap of (all)good or bad, about ourselves, each of our children, and life itself. And despite this, the trapdoor is always there.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 752664, member: 18958"] [LEFT][FONT=trebuchet ms][COLOR=rgb(20, 20, 20)]You did not fail. I don't know where this comes from. Is it guilt, still? This is true. I have never, ever questioned the necessity of your stepping away from Kay. Number one, it's not my right. Number two, I think you're doing everything right. At great cost to you. Still. [/COLOR][/FONT][/LEFT] There is a deep pain in me. That I think some of us here share. I had a father who was dissolute, depraved, lost. In the last 5 or 6 years of his life, I would not see him or speak to him. I was sickened by being around him: his self-indulgence; his cruelty. I could no longer tell myself lies that he was anything other than a fallen man. Shortly after I learned of his death, (he had died on skid row 4 years before I found out), I adopted my son, whose birth parents lived in some ways like my father. It does not take Freud to figure out that I was seeking some sort of redemption for myself or my life. At that point, all I knew was that I loved my son. I did not face that adopting him would bring me to have to face the other side of the equation: that my son would have to plumb depths and a lifestyle of his birth parents. And I with him. I think all of this with my own father must be triggered. Because I was the one who turned away from him. I took a hard left. I didn't look back. It makes it impossibly hard with my son. Because all of this is triggered. That I keep trying with my son is not strength. It may be love, but it's not strength. It's trauma. I have trauma both ways. If my son is near. Or far. And then to do the work, I did, in prisons, with men (less women) who others believed were close to irredeemable, this, too, I know must have been a deep belief that I am irredeemable by virtue of my father's fate. I must on some level believe I am lost, too. I must believe I am Kay, too. Or my father. There was that movie title, I think called, Dancing as fast as you can. I think that was me. And always afraid when the music stops. Please do not think that there is anything clean or right about what I do. In no way do I question (or have a right to) your decision with Kay. What you write about her behavior is chilling. You could not do more than you have done. But what you did, was not wrong, in my view. We, none of us, are better or more capable parents. That's the trap that all of us are thrust into. We judge ourselves, and are judged by others. It's not about good or bad. Everything I write here is an attempt to help myself and others to not fall into the trap of (all)good or bad, about ourselves, each of our children, and life itself. And despite this, the trapdoor is always there. [/QUOTE]
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