Forums
New posts
Search forums
What's new
New posts
New profile posts
Latest activity
Internet Search
Members
Current visitors
New profile posts
Search profile posts
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
New posts
Search forums
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Forums
Parent Support Forums
Parent Emeritus
If there is someone that would be my friend...I would be grateful.
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 655677" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Ballet?</p><p></p><p>I took ballet lessons for years and years. I love it. I grew strong there, and learned there is integrity in sweat and in effort, and real beauty in strength. This is great! I am so happy for you.</p><p></p><p>A great place to begin recovering yourself.</p><p></p><p>Woot!</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>That happened to me. </p><p></p><p>I needed to recreate myself. That is the only way to do it, I think. Create a new competency.</p><p></p><p>As many times as it takes.</p><p></p><p>Even volunteering in the Gallery was begun to create a new competency, to create a new, untouched facet of self.</p><p></p><p>I am so glad to know you have begun this recovery of self. I make it a practice to stay very silent regarding where I have been, in my life. The pain and the shame and the continual fixation stay at home. I post here. Only those who know me very well know about my children.</p><p></p><p>I do that for myself, so I can be strong.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I felt that way, too. But as I read here on the site, I was struck by how identically the kids behave <em>once they start using.</em> </p><p></p><p>That was my first step toward healing the shame of it. I am still dancing around the anger in it, around the betrayal of what has happened. I think it is a good, healthy thing to acknowledge the anger, but I am trying to let go of that.</p><p></p><p>There is strength in it though, so I am circling that idea of anger and betrayal. My secret plan? Is to take it out on my sister. </p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>I am serious. If she makes good on her threat to come here and confront me about not taking care of my mother, I am going to...I'm going to do something.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Then this is where you begin to work.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>It was a persona you gave away. It is time for you to be real.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Ritual helps me. I made a talisman for my son, and for my mother. The talisman for my mother (we have been at outs before) was just something I cherished. I kept it in a jewelry box, safe and precious. For my son, I wrapped the talisman first in cotton, and then in different colored cloths.</p><p></p><p>Then, I put it in a jewelry box, too.</p><p></p><p>Then, I put it in a special drawer, where it was safe.</p><p></p><p>During the time I was not seeing my son, and didn't even know where he was, I would take the talisman out, unwrap it, and cry or rage or remember or pray or whatever overwhelming thing it was that I needed to address to externalize the emotion.</p><p></p><p>I felt closer to him, when I did that. I remembered I loved him, when I did that. Then, I would put it safely away.</p><p></p><p>Another thing I did was to light a white candle for him.</p><p></p><p>I still put those electric white candles in my windows at Christmas. I know where he is now, but I think I might be doing it for all the moms who don't know where their kids are.</p><p></p><p>I never forget what it was like, not to know.</p><p></p><p>I would also set a secret place for him at the Holidays. It was too hard for me to do a holiday with him missing from the table. (I have a thing with dinner, I guess.) Anyway, I would set the place setting for him in my bedroom and then, close the door. No one else would know about that place setting. I knew, though. It was ~ I don't know what it was, but it helped me.</p><p></p><p>I think it was not displacement. I think it was grief, and I think it was real, and I think honoring that was the one way I could truly heal.</p><p></p><p>I never understand, even now, when I am through the worst of it, those people who behave as though losing our children as we have means nothing.</p><p></p><p>It means everything, to me.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>That could be. Only you could say. But I say that we are grieving something very real. Regret for all that might have been, for everything that was so close we could touch it.</p><p></p><p>And then, we reached for it, claimed it as our own ~ and watched it crumble and catch the wind.</p><p></p><p>Gone; all gone.</p><p></p><p>Of course we are sad.</p><p></p><p>In other countries, they wear a black armband, or shave their heads, or cover their mirrors ~ there are other things too that people do to help us mark the time so we will know it is okay to grieve, and when we will know it is time to begin putting distance between ourselves and our grief.</p><p></p><p>Others know to treat us gently.</p><p></p><p>We do not have that here for those who are grieving a death in the family, and we certainly do not have that, here or anywhere I don't think, for those grieving the living, protracted Hell of losing a child to addiction or mental illness.</p><p></p><p>It will take you some time to begin coming back. I began it watching the sun rise. Ten minutes; fresh, hot coffee with cream. No thought. No intention. Listen to the wind and listen to the birds and then, go about your day.</p><p></p><p>It is an honor to see it, to be part of it.</p><p></p><p>That is how I began to heal.</p><p></p><p>That, and ballet.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p>In the Gallery where I volunteer? I bought a painting that describes the feel of "Halleluiah" perfectly.</p><p></p><p>I will try to post it here, for all of us.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 655677, member: 17461"] Ballet? I took ballet lessons for years and years. I love it. I grew strong there, and learned there is integrity in sweat and in effort, and real beauty in strength. This is great! I am so happy for you. A great place to begin recovering yourself. Woot! That happened to me. I needed to recreate myself. That is the only way to do it, I think. Create a new competency. As many times as it takes. Even volunteering in the Gallery was begun to create a new competency, to create a new, untouched facet of self. I am so glad to know you have begun this recovery of self. I make it a practice to stay very silent regarding where I have been, in my life. The pain and the shame and the continual fixation stay at home. I post here. Only those who know me very well know about my children. I do that for myself, so I can be strong. I felt that way, too. But as I read here on the site, I was struck by how identically the kids behave [I]once they start using.[/I] That was my first step toward healing the shame of it. I am still dancing around the anger in it, around the betrayal of what has happened. I think it is a good, healthy thing to acknowledge the anger, but I am trying to let go of that. There is strength in it though, so I am circling that idea of anger and betrayal. My secret plan? Is to take it out on my sister. :O) I am serious. If she makes good on her threat to come here and confront me about not taking care of my mother, I am going to...I'm going to do something. Then this is where you begin to work. It was a persona you gave away. It is time for you to be real. Ritual helps me. I made a talisman for my son, and for my mother. The talisman for my mother (we have been at outs before) was just something I cherished. I kept it in a jewelry box, safe and precious. For my son, I wrapped the talisman first in cotton, and then in different colored cloths. Then, I put it in a jewelry box, too. Then, I put it in a special drawer, where it was safe. During the time I was not seeing my son, and didn't even know where he was, I would take the talisman out, unwrap it, and cry or rage or remember or pray or whatever overwhelming thing it was that I needed to address to externalize the emotion. I felt closer to him, when I did that. I remembered I loved him, when I did that. Then, I would put it safely away. Another thing I did was to light a white candle for him. I still put those electric white candles in my windows at Christmas. I know where he is now, but I think I might be doing it for all the moms who don't know where their kids are. I never forget what it was like, not to know. I would also set a secret place for him at the Holidays. It was too hard for me to do a holiday with him missing from the table. (I have a thing with dinner, I guess.) Anyway, I would set the place setting for him in my bedroom and then, close the door. No one else would know about that place setting. I knew, though. It was ~ I don't know what it was, but it helped me. I think it was not displacement. I think it was grief, and I think it was real, and I think honoring that was the one way I could truly heal. I never understand, even now, when I am through the worst of it, those people who behave as though losing our children as we have means nothing. It means everything, to me. That could be. Only you could say. But I say that we are grieving something very real. Regret for all that might have been, for everything that was so close we could touch it. And then, we reached for it, claimed it as our own ~ and watched it crumble and catch the wind. Gone; all gone. Of course we are sad. In other countries, they wear a black armband, or shave their heads, or cover their mirrors ~ there are other things too that people do to help us mark the time so we will know it is okay to grieve, and when we will know it is time to begin putting distance between ourselves and our grief. Others know to treat us gently. We do not have that here for those who are grieving a death in the family, and we certainly do not have that, here or anywhere I don't think, for those grieving the living, protracted Hell of losing a child to addiction or mental illness. It will take you some time to begin coming back. I began it watching the sun rise. Ten minutes; fresh, hot coffee with cream. No thought. No intention. Listen to the wind and listen to the birds and then, go about your day. It is an honor to see it, to be part of it. That is how I began to heal. That, and ballet. Cedar In the Gallery where I volunteer? I bought a painting that describes the feel of "Halleluiah" perfectly. I will try to post it here, for all of us. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Forums
Parent Support Forums
Parent Emeritus
If there is someone that would be my friend...I would be grateful.
Top