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No changes, which is surprisingly hard all on its own!
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<blockquote data-quote="Childofmine" data-source="post: 648386" data-attributes="member: 17542"><p>Echo, who ever would have thought this life could be as hard as it is? </p><p></p><p>One thing I read in your post is this: What if this never changes? What if it is always like this? Every birthday, every Christmas, every day. </p><p></p><p>It's exhausting and depressing and bone-wearying to even think about it.</p><p></p><p>Because I wished at one point that he would die. And I wished that I would die. I didn't have a plan either. I just wanted to stop hurting so much. I just wanted it all to STOP.</p><p></p><p>It seemed like it just got worse and worse and worse, no matter if I did something or didn't do something.</p><p></p><p>I remember reading others on this forum who said: There's no guarantee that if you detach and accept, that they will change.</p><p></p><p>I didn't like that at first. I thought, well, if that isn't going to happen, why am I going to even try to do this? I'll just keep trying to help him, and surely, something will click.</p><p></p><p>But the more I read and studied and listened---the more I began to change-----here, in Al-Anon and in books by authors like Pema Chodron and Cloud and Townsend and Beattie, the more I came to believe that I have to stop, first for myself. I have to because I am also going to die if I keep on like this---the stress and heartache and depression are so bad. And in order to do that, I have to learn to love myself more.</p><p></p><p>And then came the 51% rule for me. I am 51% and he is 49%. I am just that much more important than he is. I came to believe that as well, in time.</p><p></p><p>And then, I came to believe---another layer of believing---that IF there was going to be even a chance for him to change, I had to stop in order to create some time and space and distance---a clearing if you will----for him to step into and even have a chance to do something for himself.</p><p></p><p>Because if I am going to be there with a response every time, then he doesn't even have a chance to do for himself, and I am pounding home the message with my actions that "you can't do it for yourself, and that is why I am here, doing it for you."</p><p></p><p>So now, today, things with my son are better. I have no idea if the other shoe will drop, if things will continue to improve or if things will go back to the bad. </p><p></p><p>I don't know. I just don't know and you know what, you and I will NEVER KNOW. We will never know what is next for them. </p><p></p><p>If they are doing badly, we won't know if it's going to get worse tomorrow or better tomorrow. If they are doing well, we won't know if it's going to stay like this or get even better or get worse.</p><p></p><p>We have to learn to live with uncertainty. With unrelenting uncertainty. I think that's the charge here. </p><p></p><p>I will say this, and here is where I see a difference: there is a break in the unrelenting disappointment and grief when things get a bit better. I don't feel as despondent about him like I did. I feel....very....cautiously...hopeful...and of course that scares me to death, to even begin to hope...so I slap that down hard and fast and try to go back to....neutral. Neutral acceptance, and distance and infrequent communications and infrequent visits.</p><p></p><p>It's for me, and it's for him. It's the natural consequences of what we have all been through for these years. It is what it is. </p><p></p><p>I don't know if any of this even made sense, but I know your difficult child's birthday and the long grey winter and just life has weighed on you, and I just want you to know that you are not alone here.</p><p></p><p>We are all at different points on the continuum but we are here together. I'm glad you knew that you didn't want to see him and you honored that in yourself. There's only so much we need to put ourselves through. I still wish so much for him and for you that something good will happen and he will make some kind of change...that will lead to another change and then another.</p><p></p><p>Warm hugs my dear East Coast friend.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Childofmine, post: 648386, member: 17542"] Echo, who ever would have thought this life could be as hard as it is? One thing I read in your post is this: What if this never changes? What if it is always like this? Every birthday, every Christmas, every day. It's exhausting and depressing and bone-wearying to even think about it. Because I wished at one point that he would die. And I wished that I would die. I didn't have a plan either. I just wanted to stop hurting so much. I just wanted it all to STOP. It seemed like it just got worse and worse and worse, no matter if I did something or didn't do something. I remember reading others on this forum who said: There's no guarantee that if you detach and accept, that they will change. I didn't like that at first. I thought, well, if that isn't going to happen, why am I going to even try to do this? I'll just keep trying to help him, and surely, something will click. But the more I read and studied and listened---the more I began to change-----here, in Al-Anon and in books by authors like Pema Chodron and Cloud and Townsend and Beattie, the more I came to believe that I have to stop, first for myself. I have to because I am also going to die if I keep on like this---the stress and heartache and depression are so bad. And in order to do that, I have to learn to love myself more. And then came the 51% rule for me. I am 51% and he is 49%. I am just that much more important than he is. I came to believe that as well, in time. And then, I came to believe---another layer of believing---that IF there was going to be even a chance for him to change, I had to stop in order to create some time and space and distance---a clearing if you will----for him to step into and even have a chance to do something for himself. Because if I am going to be there with a response every time, then he doesn't even have a chance to do for himself, and I am pounding home the message with my actions that "you can't do it for yourself, and that is why I am here, doing it for you." So now, today, things with my son are better. I have no idea if the other shoe will drop, if things will continue to improve or if things will go back to the bad. I don't know. I just don't know and you know what, you and I will NEVER KNOW. We will never know what is next for them. If they are doing badly, we won't know if it's going to get worse tomorrow or better tomorrow. If they are doing well, we won't know if it's going to stay like this or get even better or get worse. We have to learn to live with uncertainty. With unrelenting uncertainty. I think that's the charge here. I will say this, and here is where I see a difference: there is a break in the unrelenting disappointment and grief when things get a bit better. I don't feel as despondent about him like I did. I feel....very....cautiously...hopeful...and of course that scares me to death, to even begin to hope...so I slap that down hard and fast and try to go back to....neutral. Neutral acceptance, and distance and infrequent communications and infrequent visits. It's for me, and it's for him. It's the natural consequences of what we have all been through for these years. It is what it is. I don't know if any of this even made sense, but I know your difficult child's birthday and the long grey winter and just life has weighed on you, and I just want you to know that you are not alone here. We are all at different points on the continuum but we are here together. I'm glad you knew that you didn't want to see him and you honored that in yourself. There's only so much we need to put ourselves through. I still wish so much for him and for you that something good will happen and he will make some kind of change...that will lead to another change and then another. Warm hugs my dear East Coast friend. [/QUOTE]
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