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I hung up on him
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<blockquote data-quote="Childofmine" data-source="post: 636233" data-attributes="member: 17542"><p>Ah, Echo. When we come face to face with a phone call like that, then the next question is to ourselves: Who are we, after all of THIS? Just who am I now, and wow, this awful, horrible he__ has changed me so much over the years. Who would ever have thought? </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Sometimes I am glad that these things happen, like difficult child stealing from you and then calling his sibling back to sell drugs. It crystallizes everything, in that moment. We let go of the well...maybe...what ifs....he's sweet and kind tho....all of the equivocating falls away in that moment, and we move a step closer to being done. </p><p></p><p>But we still aren't completely done, because they are still our kids. I honestly don't know if it's possible---or even desirable---to be completely done with our own flesh and blood. It likely is not set up to be by our Higher Power/Nature/The Universe. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I know how infuriating a question like that is. It is to me, too. What do you mean, what do you need to do? GET YOUR LIFE STRAIGHT, that's what. End of conversation. Do it, and show me (no more talk), and then we can talk....later, when I decide. We have been lied to and overpromised and believed and we waited and we helped and we encouraged and we supported and our hopes got so high up and plummeted down so very far that we could not even function at the basic tasks of life, and we are sick and tired of that merry go round, so inch by inch, we moved to get off of that vicious horrible ride. The ride to nowhere. </p><p></p><p>We finally had to start practicing the 51% rule. We had no choice because in our grief and our pain and our fear and our misery we could not even function in our own lives, and we are healthy enough to know that we need to pay our bills and love the other people in our lives and find happiness for ourselves, so little by little we found a way, through so much work and time, to start doing it.</p><p></p><p>And then, it gained momentum because we looked around and realized we were feeling just a tiny bit better, for an hour or two, and then a day or two, and we so much wanted more of that, so we kept on. </p><p></p><p>And organically, and through work, the feeling better started to string out to more and more days of feeling better, and we never want to go back to where we were.</p><p></p><p>Things start to get clearer when we are flat on our backs literally and figuratively, because of the love we have for our sons or daughters, and then we start to get up on our knees and crawl and then walk and then run----regardless of what they are doing or not doing.</p><p></p><p>Things start to get very very clear. Thankfully. And we know we are never going back to where we were, and we will fight not to.</p><p></p><p>It is like oxygen, like the very act of breathing, our own need to survive. Thankfully. </p><p></p><p>You are surviving Echo, and more, you are thriving in your life, even though your precious difficult child is living a life you do not and cannot understand. </p><p></p><p>I am so thankful for that, for you and for the rest of your family and for those who love you and care about, and who you love and care about. This is the stuff of living. We need to claim it and work for it, regardless. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Ugh. I think it is telling that he said Mommy. Your little boy. Except he is not. He is now a grown man and because of that one fact, at least, he has a right to live his life the way he wants to. He is not psychotic and he is aware of what he is doing, his own choices, and what he wants. Yes he has problems and disabilities, but he still knows reality, and like all of the professionals say repeatedly, he is responsible for his actions. </p><p></p><p>You are protecting yourself from going back to the pit. Your hanging up, without even thinking, is a survival instinct. And I think you need to honor it. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes, we do, because this is NOT WHO WE ARE. The events of the past with difficult children have moved us to this place, and have changed us forever. Many good changes. And also changes that we cannot recognize or understand---I don't know if they are truly good or bad, they just ARE. Culture and our own humanity tells us---I would not hang up on anyone, I would give a blanket to anyone, I would listen on the phone for a few minutes to anyone---unless to do that would threaten our own existence, and that is exactly what does and can happen when we crack open the door to listening, then to hoping, then to believing, then to trusting, and then to get smacked down, flat on our backs, ONCE AGAIN. How many times, Echo? Dozens and dozens already, hundreds of big and little times, and slowly, we learn. We learn what we must do to survive. </p><p></p><p>Oh, we are notoriously slow learners, I the slowest of them all, but inch by inch, we learn. If we work for it. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I know. I so know. Wow, who does this make me? That is the root question we are asking. </p><p></p><p>My answer is: Human. </p><p></p><p>We can only do what we can live with. That works both ways. When we extend ourselves ONCE AGAIN, for the 10000th time, to "help". We can only do what we can live with, when we let them drive the car one more time even though we told them last time, "if you ...., then I will ...." and then we don't do it. We can't do it, somehow. </p><p></p><p>We can only do what we can live with. When we instinctively hang up the phone at the first audible signs of our son's voice. We can't go there again. We just can't right now. We have to survive. We have to live, somehow. </p><p></p><p>And that doesn't mean we are cold, hard people. I am not. You are not. Are we changed? Yes we are. One time I took an "empathy test" and my score was 98 out of 100. It was the highest measure of any other of the things measured on that test. I nodded my head because I would literally bleed for other people. For their problems and their battles. That's why I was such a darn good enabler. </p><p></p><p>I have had to learn that my empathy needs to be there---of course---but it needs to be measured with respect for other adult people who have a right to completely screw up (in my estimation) their lives royally and that is truly none of my business, no matter how much I care or love them.</p><p></p><p>You may be right. What do I know, anyway, really? I barely know my own deal, much less someone else's.</p><p></p><p>Echo, I think these experiences are part of our own maturity process, of accepting---accepting---our own humanity, our own inabilities, weaknesses, frailties. I used to think I could do ANYTHING. Anything. Now, I am more realistic about what I can do and what I will do. </p><p></p><p>This awful journey has had a silver lining. It has taught me a more measured approach to the world. </p><p></p><p>Warm hugs for you, though. We still have the feelings that come with all of this. We have to feel those feelings, let them flow over us and through us and accept the feelings. Without doing a thing about them. Letting time take its time. Waiting. Achieving some distance. </p><p></p><p>Because this too shall pass. difficult child will do whatever he does. He will do whatever he is going to do. It isn't about you and it never has been.</p><p></p><p>You are a survivor, a Warrior Mom. You are still standing, and growing, and living. Keep on, Echo. We are here with you, walking beside you.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Childofmine, post: 636233, member: 17542"] Ah, Echo. When we come face to face with a phone call like that, then the next question is to ourselves: Who are we, after all of THIS? Just who am I now, and wow, this awful, horrible he__ has changed me so much over the years. Who would ever have thought? Sometimes I am glad that these things happen, like difficult child stealing from you and then calling his sibling back to sell drugs. It crystallizes everything, in that moment. We let go of the well...maybe...what ifs....he's sweet and kind tho....all of the equivocating falls away in that moment, and we move a step closer to being done. But we still aren't completely done, because they are still our kids. I honestly don't know if it's possible---or even desirable---to be completely done with our own flesh and blood. It likely is not set up to be by our Higher Power/Nature/The Universe. I know how infuriating a question like that is. It is to me, too. What do you mean, what do you need to do? GET YOUR LIFE STRAIGHT, that's what. End of conversation. Do it, and show me (no more talk), and then we can talk....later, when I decide. We have been lied to and overpromised and believed and we waited and we helped and we encouraged and we supported and our hopes got so high up and plummeted down so very far that we could not even function at the basic tasks of life, and we are sick and tired of that merry go round, so inch by inch, we moved to get off of that vicious horrible ride. The ride to nowhere. We finally had to start practicing the 51% rule. We had no choice because in our grief and our pain and our fear and our misery we could not even function in our own lives, and we are healthy enough to know that we need to pay our bills and love the other people in our lives and find happiness for ourselves, so little by little we found a way, through so much work and time, to start doing it. And then, it gained momentum because we looked around and realized we were feeling just a tiny bit better, for an hour or two, and then a day or two, and we so much wanted more of that, so we kept on. And organically, and through work, the feeling better started to string out to more and more days of feeling better, and we never want to go back to where we were. Things start to get clearer when we are flat on our backs literally and figuratively, because of the love we have for our sons or daughters, and then we start to get up on our knees and crawl and then walk and then run----regardless of what they are doing or not doing. Things start to get very very clear. Thankfully. And we know we are never going back to where we were, and we will fight not to. It is like oxygen, like the very act of breathing, our own need to survive. Thankfully. You are surviving Echo, and more, you are thriving in your life, even though your precious difficult child is living a life you do not and cannot understand. I am so thankful for that, for you and for the rest of your family and for those who love you and care about, and who you love and care about. This is the stuff of living. We need to claim it and work for it, regardless. Ugh. I think it is telling that he said Mommy. Your little boy. Except he is not. He is now a grown man and because of that one fact, at least, he has a right to live his life the way he wants to. He is not psychotic and he is aware of what he is doing, his own choices, and what he wants. Yes he has problems and disabilities, but he still knows reality, and like all of the professionals say repeatedly, he is responsible for his actions. You are protecting yourself from going back to the pit. Your hanging up, without even thinking, is a survival instinct. And I think you need to honor it. Yes, we do, because this is NOT WHO WE ARE. The events of the past with difficult children have moved us to this place, and have changed us forever. Many good changes. And also changes that we cannot recognize or understand---I don't know if they are truly good or bad, they just ARE. Culture and our own humanity tells us---I would not hang up on anyone, I would give a blanket to anyone, I would listen on the phone for a few minutes to anyone---unless to do that would threaten our own existence, and that is exactly what does and can happen when we crack open the door to listening, then to hoping, then to believing, then to trusting, and then to get smacked down, flat on our backs, ONCE AGAIN. How many times, Echo? Dozens and dozens already, hundreds of big and little times, and slowly, we learn. We learn what we must do to survive. Oh, we are notoriously slow learners, I the slowest of them all, but inch by inch, we learn. If we work for it. I know. I so know. Wow, who does this make me? That is the root question we are asking. My answer is: Human. We can only do what we can live with. That works both ways. When we extend ourselves ONCE AGAIN, for the 10000th time, to "help". We can only do what we can live with, when we let them drive the car one more time even though we told them last time, "if you ...., then I will ...." and then we don't do it. We can't do it, somehow. We can only do what we can live with. When we instinctively hang up the phone at the first audible signs of our son's voice. We can't go there again. We just can't right now. We have to survive. We have to live, somehow. And that doesn't mean we are cold, hard people. I am not. You are not. Are we changed? Yes we are. One time I took an "empathy test" and my score was 98 out of 100. It was the highest measure of any other of the things measured on that test. I nodded my head because I would literally bleed for other people. For their problems and their battles. That's why I was such a darn good enabler. I have had to learn that my empathy needs to be there---of course---but it needs to be measured with respect for other adult people who have a right to completely screw up (in my estimation) their lives royally and that is truly none of my business, no matter how much I care or love them. You may be right. What do I know, anyway, really? I barely know my own deal, much less someone else's. Echo, I think these experiences are part of our own maturity process, of accepting---accepting---our own humanity, our own inabilities, weaknesses, frailties. I used to think I could do ANYTHING. Anything. Now, I am more realistic about what I can do and what I will do. This awful journey has had a silver lining. It has taught me a more measured approach to the world. Warm hugs for you, though. We still have the feelings that come with all of this. We have to feel those feelings, let them flow over us and through us and accept the feelings. Without doing a thing about them. Letting time take its time. Waiting. Achieving some distance. Because this too shall pass. difficult child will do whatever he does. He will do whatever he is going to do. It isn't about you and it never has been. You are a survivor, a Warrior Mom. You are still standing, and growing, and living. Keep on, Echo. We are here with you, walking beside you. [/QUOTE]
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