Echolette
Well-Known Member
I want to think out loud about something that feels awkward, or maybe even horrible, to say. I'm saying it here because I have always found it so helpful to have you all be honest, to share the things we can't say to others.
Here is the thing.
I don't want to hear from difficult child any more. I don't want to hear about him. I don't want to know about him. Its not that I want him to be gone...he just IS gone for me. I don't miss him, worry about him, or wonder about him. I have a vague sense of sadness when I think about him...like I feel for people who are long dead, like my dad, dead 24 years now, like my mom, dead 4 years now. A distant sadness.
I say this, and I feel it, but there is something under it too...when I tried to tell SO about this strange feeling, I started to cry. And I have a strong drive to go to the local Al Anon program, which I will try this week...so it isn't all resolved and yet...I feel like my love for him is gone. Maybe for good this time.
It has to do with the hopelessness, the endless cycle of yuckiness, the repeated attempts to go straightgetajobfindaplacetolivestayclean. The repeated hospitalizations, arrests, the repeated thrown out of whatever flophouse he is in ("they are crazy mom"--this after the other version, when he moved in "they are good people, they care about me, they are helping me stay straight, letting me stay without rent because they understand my situation.)
I. Just.Don't. Care.
Sometimes I entertain a conversation in my head about what might make me care again...and I think, well, him, clean, (as in soap) and clean (as in drugs) and clear. But that will never ever happen.
I am down to three kids now. His twin has no twin. He is just gone. And I feel only distant sadness. And some guilt about that.
Thats it. I wanted to put that out there, to test how it feels to actually say it out loud (you know what I mean--write it publicly).
Echo
Here is the thing.
I don't want to hear from difficult child any more. I don't want to hear about him. I don't want to know about him. Its not that I want him to be gone...he just IS gone for me. I don't miss him, worry about him, or wonder about him. I have a vague sense of sadness when I think about him...like I feel for people who are long dead, like my dad, dead 24 years now, like my mom, dead 4 years now. A distant sadness.
I say this, and I feel it, but there is something under it too...when I tried to tell SO about this strange feeling, I started to cry. And I have a strong drive to go to the local Al Anon program, which I will try this week...so it isn't all resolved and yet...I feel like my love for him is gone. Maybe for good this time.
It has to do with the hopelessness, the endless cycle of yuckiness, the repeated attempts to go straightgetajobfindaplacetolivestayclean. The repeated hospitalizations, arrests, the repeated thrown out of whatever flophouse he is in ("they are crazy mom"--this after the other version, when he moved in "they are good people, they care about me, they are helping me stay straight, letting me stay without rent because they understand my situation.)
I. Just.Don't. Care.
Sometimes I entertain a conversation in my head about what might make me care again...and I think, well, him, clean, (as in soap) and clean (as in drugs) and clear. But that will never ever happen.
I am down to three kids now. His twin has no twin. He is just gone. And I feel only distant sadness. And some guilt about that.
Thats it. I wanted to put that out there, to test how it feels to actually say it out loud (you know what I mean--write it publicly).
Echo