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Family of Origin
Surviving parent, whom I love, sad that his kids are estranged
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 675926" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>We have variations on a theme, each of us. Different stories. Same consequences.</p><p></p><p>I cut myself off. I did not miss them at all in those years. While I lived alone and without family, I did not miss them. I knew who they were.</p><p></p><p>There were 23 years or so of reconciliation. Or the appearance of it. What worked for me was distance there, too. </p><p></p><p>I could not forgive myself for that as my mother died, and after. Because as she died and after I longed for her. </p><p></p><p>After, I realized that while there was the appearance of reconciliation, I had not reconciled within myself.</p><p></p><p>I may have known who my mother was, my sister. I did not know who I was, until my mother was dying and after she died.</p><p></p><p>I had loved my mother more than I knew. I blamed myself for all of it. I was the only one left to blame.</p><p></p><p>In FOO I came to face that that had always been true. I had always blamed myself. For all of it. Always. </p><p></p><p>And worse. I saw my relationship with myself had been shaped in relation to my FOO, with the same distorted mold. And it had carried over to my relationship with my child.</p><p></p><p>I started this post with the intention to state that there is value that comes from loving them in spite of their -- the only word that comes to mind, unfortunately, is evil. </p><p></p><p>Now that I come to an end, I realize that we always do, always did love them. Who we did not love was ourselves. </p><p></p><p>That is what changed. In my case, is changing.</p><p></p><p>Sad stories. Of resilience and of courage.</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 675926, member: 18958"] We have variations on a theme, each of us. Different stories. Same consequences. I cut myself off. I did not miss them at all in those years. While I lived alone and without family, I did not miss them. I knew who they were. There were 23 years or so of reconciliation. Or the appearance of it. What worked for me was distance there, too. I could not forgive myself for that as my mother died, and after. Because as she died and after I longed for her. After, I realized that while there was the appearance of reconciliation, I had not reconciled within myself. I may have known who my mother was, my sister. I did not know who I was, until my mother was dying and after she died. I had loved my mother more than I knew. I blamed myself for all of it. I was the only one left to blame. In FOO I came to face that that had always been true. I had always blamed myself. For all of it. Always. And worse. I saw my relationship with myself had been shaped in relation to my FOO, with the same distorted mold. And it had carried over to my relationship with my child. I started this post with the intention to state that there is value that comes from loving them in spite of their -- the only word that comes to mind, unfortunately, is evil. Now that I come to an end, I realize that we always do, always did love them. Who we did not love was ourselves. That is what changed. In my case, is changing. Sad stories. Of resilience and of courage. COPA [/QUOTE]
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Surviving parent, whom I love, sad that his kids are estranged
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