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I am sad and desperate and hopeless again
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 745716" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Part of the problem is that I do not believe my son about what he says he has done to monitor his health. Part of it is that I do not trust in him to decide right. Part of this is that he wants me out of his business, and obfuscates. <u>Part of this is that I am unreassurable.</u> If I think about it, there is not one thing that would completely reassure me about his liver.</p><p></p><p>There is a saying in a book that I really love:<em> The worm at the core.</em> The famous psychologist William James wrote this (he was brother to the writer Henry James.) The worm of which he speaks is death. Everything I deal with in relation to my son feels to me to be life and death. Either my own or his. If he were to die or get very ill while I still live, <em>I would die of grief. </em>My worry about it is so intense, that I cannot live well. This worry is so great that it transcends into the other realm. My worry about him is so great that I think about what will be when I die. My worry for him, unlike my life itself, is eternal. It never passes. In a way this is the same thing about my grief over my mother. On some level, <em>I will not let it pass. It is like groundhog day. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p>This interests me very much. This very much seems to be about the mistaken belief that there is control. That by holding my breath and holding on, I can stop something from happening, or prevent something from happening. So. If I look at it this way, this is not a problem about the future, or the past, it is a problem about the present, and as such completely within my power to change.</p><p></p><p>I can come to be aware of in the moment what my thoughts are and change them or change the channel through meditation or exercise, or whatever.</p><p></p><p>It is a fallacious thoughts to believe that an individual controls <em>and is responsible for</em> life and what happens in a life.</p><p></p><p>This is about letting go of that erroneous belief. Freeing myself of it. Not by jerking my son around, or trying to manipulate him, but my identifying how I hurt myself and stopping this. At this moment I can see that this has not one thing to do with my son and only to do with this pattern of behavior that is mine, and only mine.</p><p>Yes. Especially, if I do not change. Because as long as I trap myself in this illusion that I am responsible and that by this groundhog day I control the future, I keep myself and our relationship contained within it.</p><p>So, if I look at this through the above lens,<em> I act as if the only control I have in life is over J. </em>I surrender having control over my own life, in the mistaken belief that this is the only control I have. I locate my destiny, in him. And this must be why I get so panic stricken.</p><p></p><p>This must have to do with a lifelong pattern of feeling helpless in relation to the actions (or inaction) of others, namely my parents.</p><p></p><p>But the thing I must remember, and act from, is that <em>that helplessness at the hands of others, no longer exists. </em></p><p>So. I will read Tanya's quote here, from that perspective. It is my choice in how I choose to live. Do I live as if I am helpless in the face of my son's whims, decisions, actions, or thoughts? Or do I operate in my life as if I am an autonomous agent to the extent I can?</p><p>I do not think my son seeks to hurt me, and I know that he feels bad when he reflects upon my suffering in relation to him.</p><p>And this is exactly it. I think the issue here is that I have some sort of mental case, whack job, distortion going on that I will describe this way: remember those old silent movies, where the ingenue is tied to the railroad tracks, and she is helpless and the train is coming? And she writhes and twists and turns, in kabuki-theatre like exaggerated facial and body distortions in order to wordlessly convey to the audience her agony and her need for rescue....?</p><p></p><p>I keep over and over again putting myself on the railroad tracks...to clamor for rescue...and <em>I am the one who has bound myself in rope and put myself there. J did not put me there. I did. </em>And I do it over and over again. <u>I do it. Not him.</u></p><p></p><p>Now. There was a time in my life when this very situation happened. When I was helpless and needed rescue and nobody came. And I must put myself on those train tracks over and over again, trying to work this out. In psychology they call this <em>the compulsion to repeat. </em>The unconscious hope would be, if one repeats this enough times, somebody will come to the rescue. Thus, groundhog day.</p><p></p><p>The vulnerable person at stake is me, not my son. Of course, I am concerned about him. To the extent we all know. But the way this gets repeated at such disastrous cost, in me, has to do with something over which I have both control over and responsibility to fix.</p><p></p><p>I need to stop putting binding myself with rope, putting myself on the tracks, and screaming for somebody to intervene to save me. Because what I am doing here, <em>is making myself helpless to my son, and making it his job to save me from myself.</em> And that is not right.</p><p></p><p>I have not realized this before. It is not my son's vulnerability that is so triggering to me, it is my own. To him. Because I cannot control what he does or does not do, makes me feel helpless. And that is what I keep repeating over and over again.<em> The time(s) I was helpless long, long ago, and wanted something to stop.</em> This is what I keep repeating. Over and over again. And I can stop it. Nobody else can. Not my son, or anybody. Me.</p><p></p><p>Thank you very much people.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 745716, member: 18958"] Part of the problem is that I do not believe my son about what he says he has done to monitor his health. Part of it is that I do not trust in him to decide right. Part of this is that he wants me out of his business, and obfuscates. [U]Part of this is that I am unreassurable.[/U] If I think about it, there is not one thing that would completely reassure me about his liver. There is a saying in a book that I really love:[I] The worm at the core.[/I] The famous psychologist William James wrote this (he was brother to the writer Henry James.) The worm of which he speaks is death. Everything I deal with in relation to my son feels to me to be life and death. Either my own or his. If he were to die or get very ill while I still live, [I]I would die of grief. [/I]My worry about it is so intense, that I cannot live well. This worry is so great that it transcends into the other realm. My worry about him is so great that I think about what will be when I die. My worry for him, unlike my life itself, is eternal. It never passes. In a way this is the same thing about my grief over my mother. On some level, [I]I will not let it pass. It is like groundhog day. [/I] This interests me very much. This very much seems to be about the mistaken belief that there is control. That by holding my breath and holding on, I can stop something from happening, or prevent something from happening. So. If I look at it this way, this is not a problem about the future, or the past, it is a problem about the present, and as such completely within my power to change. I can come to be aware of in the moment what my thoughts are and change them or change the channel through meditation or exercise, or whatever. It is a fallacious thoughts to believe that an individual controls [I]and is responsible for[/I] life and what happens in a life. This is about letting go of that erroneous belief. Freeing myself of it. Not by jerking my son around, or trying to manipulate him, but my identifying how I hurt myself and stopping this. At this moment I can see that this has not one thing to do with my son and only to do with this pattern of behavior that is mine, and only mine. Yes. Especially, if I do not change. Because as long as I trap myself in this illusion that I am responsible and that by this groundhog day I control the future, I keep myself and our relationship contained within it. So, if I look at this through the above lens,[I] I act as if the only control I have in life is over J. [/I]I surrender having control over my own life, in the mistaken belief that this is the only control I have. I locate my destiny, in him. And this must be why I get so panic stricken. This must have to do with a lifelong pattern of feeling helpless in relation to the actions (or inaction) of others, namely my parents. But the thing I must remember, and act from, is that [I]that helplessness at the hands of others, no longer exists. [/I] So. I will read Tanya's quote here, from that perspective. It is my choice in how I choose to live. Do I live as if I am helpless in the face of my son's whims, decisions, actions, or thoughts? Or do I operate in my life as if I am an autonomous agent to the extent I can? I do not think my son seeks to hurt me, and I know that he feels bad when he reflects upon my suffering in relation to him. And this is exactly it. I think the issue here is that I have some sort of mental case, whack job, distortion going on that I will describe this way: remember those old silent movies, where the ingenue is tied to the railroad tracks, and she is helpless and the train is coming? And she writhes and twists and turns, in kabuki-theatre like exaggerated facial and body distortions in order to wordlessly convey to the audience her agony and her need for rescue....? I keep over and over again putting myself on the railroad tracks...to clamor for rescue...and [I]I am the one who has bound myself in rope and put myself there. J did not put me there. I did. [/I]And I do it over and over again. [U]I do it. Not him.[/U] Now. There was a time in my life when this very situation happened. When I was helpless and needed rescue and nobody came. And I must put myself on those train tracks over and over again, trying to work this out. In psychology they call this [I]the compulsion to repeat. [/I]The unconscious hope would be, if one repeats this enough times, somebody will come to the rescue. Thus, groundhog day. The vulnerable person at stake is me, not my son. Of course, I am concerned about him. To the extent we all know. But the way this gets repeated at such disastrous cost, in me, has to do with something over which I have both control over and responsibility to fix. I need to stop putting binding myself with rope, putting myself on the tracks, and screaming for somebody to intervene to save me. Because what I am doing here, [I]is making myself helpless to my son, and making it his job to save me from myself.[/I] And that is not right. I have not realized this before. It is not my son's vulnerability that is so triggering to me, it is my own. To him. Because I cannot control what he does or does not do, makes me feel helpless. And that is what I keep repeating over and over again.[I] The time(s) I was helpless long, long ago, and wanted something to stop.[/I] This is what I keep repeating. Over and over again. And I can stop it. Nobody else can. Not my son, or anybody. Me. Thank you very much people. [/QUOTE]
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