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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 707844" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I think this is what used to be called the "empty nest syndrome."</p><p></p><p>When I was your son's age the typical mother was "stay at home." Of course, now too, home is the center of most mother's lives. But back then it was not so sanctioned for the typical woman to have a career or diverse interests beyond home, except for the purely social. So when the kids left, the mother, who in theory defined herself pretty much only by this role, was "empty." How disparaging.</p><p></p><p>So here we are, 2 generations later. And we have jobs and careers, some of us, and varied meaningful roles in our lives, as we choose and our life situations allow. And what do we have?</p><p></p><p>Empty nest syndrome. Those of us with difficult children, no matter how varied and complex are our responsibilities and identities--are defining ourselves AND OUR LIVES in terms of our children!!</p><p><em></em></p><p><em>What happened here? What is going on? </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Are we atypical mothers? Did for some reason we, all of us, from the outset give too much, or need too much from our kids, or what? That we have given up so much space and emotional energy in ourselves, of our daily lives?</em></p><p><em></em></p><p>Are these questions a manifestation of mother blame that I look to myself as the problem, instead of my child, culture, or world? Instead of accepting that this is the way that some kids grow up. That development is not an ever upwardly ascending line.</p><p></p><p>I really, really think so. I think what unites all of us mothers here is the tendency to look to ourselves to be over-responsible for what happens. We feel culpable.</p><p></p><p>Why? Or the more useful interrogatives: how and why. What will I do to change my orientation? How will I change paradigms? How will I begin to make myself the center of my world?</p><p></p><p>And what are the barriers that get in my way, when I think about acting from who I am and what I want?</p><p></p><p>How will I begin to listen to myself and to factor myself into the equation which is my life?</p><p></p><p>Consider myself, first.</p><p></p><p>My own feelings. My own needs. My own wants. My own desires. My own gifts. My own limits. My own priorities. Myself as my focus.</p><p>Yes.</p><p> We are looking here at a slice of time, a moment, not a life.</p><p></p><p>I worked with prisoners as a career; typically "hardened" criminals who had either made a horrible, horrible mistake or a long series of bad ones.</p><p></p><p>If I had five dollars for every time I asked about their mothers, I would be fabulously wealthy.</p><p></p><p><em>What did your mother think? What did your mother do? How did your mother handle it? Did she cry? Did she yell? </em>I swear, I spent half my days focused on mother-survival under the harshest of conditions.</p><p></p><p>Guess what? Even in these harshest of circumstances (which none of us, thank g-d, will likely face) mothers survived. And guess what again? Even in these harshest of environments, with the most hardened and ruined lives, men changed. And mothers hearts opened and softened and bloomed.</p><p></p><p>I have read that the meaning of a life is not known until the last moments.</p><p></p><p>How do we learn to have patience and to let our children's lives have their season, so that we can free ourselves to live?</p><p></p><p>One way: posting.</p><p></p><p>There is no other way to live that I know (that works) than what we do here together.</p><p> Now, I have my son back home. Nominally he is living in the other house we bought but he prefers it here, and I prefer him close.</p><p></p><p>Can you believe that? This is the same kid that gave M a black eye and called the cops on us multiple times to get us thrown into jail.</p><p></p><p>How many times did I throw him out? Dozens. (I did it again a week ago.) But I am changing, too. I am not as desperate and I do not feel as powerless as I once did. I do not need to have so much control. I know way less.</p><p></p><p>I do not know if it is right or wrong to have him here. I don't know much, really, anymore. Except that I have learned to be a little bit more patient with myself and with my son. I give more. And so does he. I am grateful.</p><p></p><p>I still believe in detachment. He was gone over four years. Homeless for a large part of that time. But....</p><p></p><p>I believe that there might be a way for us to be close again, too. I am willing to try. And he is too. Actually, as I write this if I tell the truth, we are close. But it is a different kind of close. Like a process. A closeness of two adults. A negotiated closeness as opposed to a dependency. Isn't that remarkable?</p><p></p><p>Sometimes I do not know how he forgives me. Me? Almost every single bit of the difficult past is gone with the wind. (I did read that long-windedness is an early sign of Alzheimer's, and can be predictive up to 10 years or more before the disease is formally detected.) Uh Oh.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 707844, member: 18958"] I think this is what used to be called the "empty nest syndrome." When I was your son's age the typical mother was "stay at home." Of course, now too, home is the center of most mother's lives. But back then it was not so sanctioned for the typical woman to have a career or diverse interests beyond home, except for the purely social. So when the kids left, the mother, who in theory defined herself pretty much only by this role, was "empty." How disparaging. So here we are, 2 generations later. And we have jobs and careers, some of us, and varied meaningful roles in our lives, as we choose and our life situations allow. And what do we have? Empty nest syndrome. Those of us with difficult children, no matter how varied and complex are our responsibilities and identities--are defining ourselves AND OUR LIVES in terms of our children!! [I] What happened here? What is going on? Are we atypical mothers? Did for some reason we, all of us, from the outset give too much, or need too much from our kids, or what? That we have given up so much space and emotional energy in ourselves, of our daily lives? [/I] Are these questions a manifestation of mother blame that I look to myself as the problem, instead of my child, culture, or world? Instead of accepting that this is the way that some kids grow up. That development is not an ever upwardly ascending line. I really, really think so. I think what unites all of us mothers here is the tendency to look to ourselves to be over-responsible for what happens. We feel culpable. Why? Or the more useful interrogatives: how and why. What will I do to change my orientation? How will I change paradigms? How will I begin to make myself the center of my world? And what are the barriers that get in my way, when I think about acting from who I am and what I want? How will I begin to listen to myself and to factor myself into the equation which is my life? Consider myself, first. My own feelings. My own needs. My own wants. My own desires. My own gifts. My own limits. My own priorities. Myself as my focus. Yes. We are looking here at a slice of time, a moment, not a life. I worked with prisoners as a career; typically "hardened" criminals who had either made a horrible, horrible mistake or a long series of bad ones. If I had five dollars for every time I asked about their mothers, I would be fabulously wealthy. [I]What did your mother think? What did your mother do? How did your mother handle it? Did she cry? Did she yell? [/I]I swear, I spent half my days focused on mother-survival under the harshest of conditions. Guess what? Even in these harshest of circumstances (which none of us, thank g-d, will likely face) mothers survived. And guess what again? Even in these harshest of environments, with the most hardened and ruined lives, men changed. And mothers hearts opened and softened and bloomed. I have read that the meaning of a life is not known until the last moments. How do we learn to have patience and to let our children's lives have their season, so that we can free ourselves to live? One way: posting. There is no other way to live that I know (that works) than what we do here together. Now, I have my son back home. Nominally he is living in the other house we bought but he prefers it here, and I prefer him close. Can you believe that? This is the same kid that gave M a black eye and called the cops on us multiple times to get us thrown into jail. How many times did I throw him out? Dozens. (I did it again a week ago.) But I am changing, too. I am not as desperate and I do not feel as powerless as I once did. I do not need to have so much control. I know way less. I do not know if it is right or wrong to have him here. I don't know much, really, anymore. Except that I have learned to be a little bit more patient with myself and with my son. I give more. And so does he. I am grateful. I still believe in detachment. He was gone over four years. Homeless for a large part of that time. But.... I believe that there might be a way for us to be close again, too. I am willing to try. And he is too. Actually, as I write this if I tell the truth, we are close. But it is a different kind of close. Like a process. A closeness of two adults. A negotiated closeness as opposed to a dependency. Isn't that remarkable? Sometimes I do not know how he forgives me. Me? Almost every single bit of the difficult past is gone with the wind. (I did read that long-windedness is an early sign of Alzheimer's, and can be predictive up to 10 years or more before the disease is formally detected.) Uh Oh. [/QUOTE]
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