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I'd like to talk about acceptance
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<blockquote data-quote="Echolette" data-source="post: 626632" data-attributes="member: 17269"><p>This whole chain made me feel better, as I said somewhere in the middle. But it falls apart when I see him. I can only accept him in his absence. His presence makes me squirm, makes me tighten up, makes my heart harden, I resent the way that I behave, the way I feel, the way I AM when he is with me. I resent him for being. </p><p></p><p>I do believe I am pretty good at accepting what is when is absent. </p><p></p><p>He called and left me a voicemail on mother's day. (I am not a big celebrator of holidays, so that was fine...his easy child twin, who is in college 2000 miles away, texted me something sweet, and that was fine too. His easy child brothers, who live with me, went to the zoo with me at my request.I spent the rest of the day alone, and that was fine too.)</p><p></p><p>He called again the next day to wish me happy mother's day and say he was sorry he had missed it...I said that is OK, your phone message was nice. He was surprised, and said "I left a message? what did I say?" and then I flipped to anger. As always, the call had interrupted me...this time I was making dinner, and shifted to trying to do it with one hand when he called. When I realized he must have called "under the influence" the day before I got mad, and got off the phone as quickly as possible, just saying I was in the middle of dinner.</p><p></p><p>He called again today, and said he had something for me and could he come over (I took the day off from work, having coordingated a variety of handymen to come fix things around the house). I said OK, even though it felt intrusive, because I thought he was just dropping something off. When he got here he said he wanted to talk..and I said "that isn't what you said, I thought you were just bringing something over". He was dirty, greasy hair, dirty hands, shredded jeans, and carrying a nearly empty backpack, wheeling a bike with a flat tire. I told him I wasn't in a good place for a talk (some of the handymen weren't working out and I could feel my irritation building--never a good recipe for a productive or kind conversation with him). He started anyway--this is classic for him, he is a very slow processor and has trouble changing paths. I interrupted and said I didn't want to talk, and that having him in my house was making me uncomfortable...he pushed for why, and I said he was dirty. He countered with "what do you expect, I live under a bridge, I'm going to be dirty, I'm working on that". You get the drift..we went around a few times..he said he didn't feel that I accept him for who he is. I said something along the lines of it is hard for me to accept your choices, and it makes me uncomfortable to be in your presence. And I reminded him again that I didn't want to talk. At that point he said he understood and went to leave. I remembered that his Christmas gifts from my siblings were still here, and that they hurt my heart a bit to see every day, so I gave them to him, with an edgy comment about how they care about him...he said he cared about them too, at which point I pointed out that he hadn't come for Thanksgiving, or his brother's birthday. I said "it isn't a one way street". </p><p></p><p>When he got to the door he talked a bit about his bike tire, and how he needed money and I said "hmmm." Then he said "I love you Mom" and I said I love you too. And he said...we'll leave it at that.</p><p></p><p>He can be kind that way. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I cannot stay open when he is in my presence. I feel myself shut down, get angry and hard and miserable and afraid. I have made no progress on that front. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The survival for me is to stay away from him. But that feels like turning away. I don't feel OK with that either. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I don't know. How can I accept my son, love my son, when he is in front of me and his whole being declares his cellular "not right ness?"</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>When he isn't with me I can let go of hope. When he is in front of me I feel compelled to challenge, to not accept. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I feel like its a bit circular when I find myself quoting myself?</p><p></p><p>So here I am again, aching heart, disappointed in myself, afraid for him. Derailed, fighting back tears.</p><p></p><p>And he didn't even do anything. He didn't want anything. He wants me to accept him. For now that is beyond me. </p><p></p><p>And that is where we are today. </p><p></p><p>Thank you, friends of the forum, for reading along. </p><p></p><p>Echo</p><p></p><p>Oh, the "I have something for you, Mom" was a broken flower he had picked up and put in his backpack. The stem and all the petals were off but he gave me the pieces anyway, saying he had tried, and it is the thought that counts, and he was sorry he hadn't done anything for mothers day. I put it in the compost bin. Because I am not OK with that.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Echolette, post: 626632, member: 17269"] This whole chain made me feel better, as I said somewhere in the middle. But it falls apart when I see him. I can only accept him in his absence. His presence makes me squirm, makes me tighten up, makes my heart harden, I resent the way that I behave, the way I feel, the way I AM when he is with me. I resent him for being. I do believe I am pretty good at accepting what is when is absent. He called and left me a voicemail on mother's day. (I am not a big celebrator of holidays, so that was fine...his easy child twin, who is in college 2000 miles away, texted me something sweet, and that was fine too. His easy child brothers, who live with me, went to the zoo with me at my request.I spent the rest of the day alone, and that was fine too.) He called again the next day to wish me happy mother's day and say he was sorry he had missed it...I said that is OK, your phone message was nice. He was surprised, and said "I left a message? what did I say?" and then I flipped to anger. As always, the call had interrupted me...this time I was making dinner, and shifted to trying to do it with one hand when he called. When I realized he must have called "under the influence" the day before I got mad, and got off the phone as quickly as possible, just saying I was in the middle of dinner. He called again today, and said he had something for me and could he come over (I took the day off from work, having coordingated a variety of handymen to come fix things around the house). I said OK, even though it felt intrusive, because I thought he was just dropping something off. When he got here he said he wanted to talk..and I said "that isn't what you said, I thought you were just bringing something over". He was dirty, greasy hair, dirty hands, shredded jeans, and carrying a nearly empty backpack, wheeling a bike with a flat tire. I told him I wasn't in a good place for a talk (some of the handymen weren't working out and I could feel my irritation building--never a good recipe for a productive or kind conversation with him). He started anyway--this is classic for him, he is a very slow processor and has trouble changing paths. I interrupted and said I didn't want to talk, and that having him in my house was making me uncomfortable...he pushed for why, and I said he was dirty. He countered with "what do you expect, I live under a bridge, I'm going to be dirty, I'm working on that". You get the drift..we went around a few times..he said he didn't feel that I accept him for who he is. I said something along the lines of it is hard for me to accept your choices, and it makes me uncomfortable to be in your presence. And I reminded him again that I didn't want to talk. At that point he said he understood and went to leave. I remembered that his Christmas gifts from my siblings were still here, and that they hurt my heart a bit to see every day, so I gave them to him, with an edgy comment about how they care about him...he said he cared about them too, at which point I pointed out that he hadn't come for Thanksgiving, or his brother's birthday. I said "it isn't a one way street". When he got to the door he talked a bit about his bike tire, and how he needed money and I said "hmmm." Then he said "I love you Mom" and I said I love you too. And he said...we'll leave it at that. He can be kind that way. I cannot stay open when he is in my presence. I feel myself shut down, get angry and hard and miserable and afraid. I have made no progress on that front. The survival for me is to stay away from him. But that feels like turning away. I don't feel OK with that either. I don't know. How can I accept my son, love my son, when he is in front of me and his whole being declares his cellular "not right ness?" When he isn't with me I can let go of hope. When he is in front of me I feel compelled to challenge, to not accept. I feel like its a bit circular when I find myself quoting myself? So here I am again, aching heart, disappointed in myself, afraid for him. Derailed, fighting back tears. And he didn't even do anything. He didn't want anything. He wants me to accept him. For now that is beyond me. And that is where we are today. Thank you, friends of the forum, for reading along. Echo Oh, the "I have something for you, Mom" was a broken flower he had picked up and put in his backpack. The stem and all the petals were off but he gave me the pieces anyway, saying he had tried, and it is the thought that counts, and he was sorry he hadn't done anything for mothers day. I put it in the compost bin. Because I am not OK with that. [/QUOTE]
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