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Update: Detachment as Spiritual Practice, and an Update
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<blockquote data-quote="scent of cedar" data-source="post: 613626" data-attributes="member: 1721"><p>You were responding to my son's abusive behaviors for me, Recovering. A correct response for me would be anger, too. If I can see it, I can get there.</p><p></p><p>Thank you, Recovering. </p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Compassion: I can see how bad it is, and feel compassion for husband and I through your postings, Recovering. For me and for husband in our real lives though...I don't know. We are in such a mess of responsibility and anger and shame and just plain at the end of our ropeness. Compassion for ourselves feels like weakness. It feels more like self pity than compassion, so we try to stay away from that altogether, and focus on the problem at hand. </p><p></p><p>I will think some more about that. I agree that acknowledging what we have been through, what it has cost, and what the results have been...this is the key to change.</p><p></p><p>*************</p><p></p><p>"The difference between enabling and helping is so remarkably small that it is a distinction easy to miss."</p><p></p><p>"Yes I am here for you but I am not willing to do anything for you unless you start doing something for yourself."</p><p></p><p>I hear what you are saying. Maybe you are right, and it is time for us to find outside help with drawing and believing in that line. </p><p></p><p>You are absolutely right about the FOG. </p><p></p><p>********************</p><p></p><p>It is so hard to see those true things, Recovering. After last winter, after the repeated betrayals, after we hadn't seen or heard from difficult child daughter for so long ~ and once the kids were safe...we were closer then to healthy than we are now, after seeing her, after helping her. </p><p></p><p>I can remember searching for her on the streets last summer. Man, that sucked.</p><p></p><p>I remember husband's face, after he saw the wrecked van.</p><p></p><p>*******</p><p></p><p>That diagnosis of mental illness leaves us feeling she is not responsible. What we really feel is guilty that we did not take both difficult child and our granddaughter in. The secret at the heart of this is that we didn't want to then, and we don't want to, now. </p><p></p><p>Money is replaceable. Time is not.</p><p></p><p>Drinking and or drugging, mental illness diagnosis or not, is a betrayal. A betrayal of husband and I, and of her daughter. I am sure about the drinking, because she was drunk when she called to tell us about the beatings. The people she was with were drunk, too.</p><p></p><p>Man, it was hard to spit that part out.</p><p></p><p>And she mentioned a bottle of Amaretto, and said something about buying it because the male involved was already drunk and he insisted, so she might as well have what she wanted.</p><p></p><p>It's just all so shocking, so sordid and disgusting and I don't even want to know any of it. If only we'd taken her in. But if we had...there is the neighbor. The neighbor who will take her in, who will give her a job...who hasn't a clue, and who thinks he is helping her, like every man always does, until he finds himself totally screwed.</p><p></p><p>What I should feel is angry ~ ragingly angry.</p><p></p><p>But instead, I feel that if we had taken her in, this would not have happened. Like Echolette and the military school, in a way. They did require that of their son, and blame themselves for it. We did not require it, and blame ourselves for that. This is the same thing.</p><p></p><p>But I am clinging to every smallest possibility, believing every rationalization I can come up with, to make this something that isn't so stupidly, pointlessly, endlessly ugly. On top of all the other ugliness. On top of arriving at the end game empty handed..... First, as an adolescent and now, finally, as a parent. Hate to give up on that dream, Recovering. </p><p></p><p>But it didn't happen. Not for me as a child, and not for me and husband as parents.</p><p></p><p>"Once I began seeing it and stopping it, that compassion for myself grew."</p><p></p><p>I have been believing I could believe it better, believe it whole and perfect, believe both kids into the fine people it never occurred to me they would not grow up to be.</p><p></p><p>Ew.</p><p></p><p>Your analogy about the snake pit hit a little too close to home, Recovering.</p><p></p><p>Thank you. You are right about the honest slap.</p><p></p><p>There is just so much I refuse to see.</p><p></p><p>But it is what it is, and I am trying.</p><p></p><p>You are right too, about establishing appropriate, inviolate defenses. It is what it is. The one area husband and I allow compassion for ourselves and each other is in acknowledging how good it must feel to have what we see everyone around us sharing with their adult kids. It's like a puzzle we don't understand. </p><p></p><p>"How did this happen?" keeps us trying to figure out how to fix it.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p>All this stuff is a little too personal, a little too vulnerable. I am going to post it anyway, though. There have to be other parents out there going through something similar. </p><p></p><p>Plus?</p><p></p><p>This site is anonymous.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="scent of cedar, post: 613626, member: 1721"] You were responding to my son's abusive behaviors for me, Recovering. A correct response for me would be anger, too. If I can see it, I can get there. Thank you, Recovering. ***** Compassion: I can see how bad it is, and feel compassion for husband and I through your postings, Recovering. For me and for husband in our real lives though...I don't know. We are in such a mess of responsibility and anger and shame and just plain at the end of our ropeness. Compassion for ourselves feels like weakness. It feels more like self pity than compassion, so we try to stay away from that altogether, and focus on the problem at hand. I will think some more about that. I agree that acknowledging what we have been through, what it has cost, and what the results have been...this is the key to change. ************* "The difference between enabling and helping is so remarkably small that it is a distinction easy to miss." "Yes I am here for you but I am not willing to do anything for you unless you start doing something for yourself." I hear what you are saying. Maybe you are right, and it is time for us to find outside help with drawing and believing in that line. You are absolutely right about the FOG. ******************** It is so hard to see those true things, Recovering. After last winter, after the repeated betrayals, after we hadn't seen or heard from difficult child daughter for so long ~ and once the kids were safe...we were closer then to healthy than we are now, after seeing her, after helping her. I can remember searching for her on the streets last summer. Man, that sucked. I remember husband's face, after he saw the wrecked van. ******* That diagnosis of mental illness leaves us feeling she is not responsible. What we really feel is guilty that we did not take both difficult child and our granddaughter in. The secret at the heart of this is that we didn't want to then, and we don't want to, now. Money is replaceable. Time is not. Drinking and or drugging, mental illness diagnosis or not, is a betrayal. A betrayal of husband and I, and of her daughter. I am sure about the drinking, because she was drunk when she called to tell us about the beatings. The people she was with were drunk, too. Man, it was hard to spit that part out. And she mentioned a bottle of Amaretto, and said something about buying it because the male involved was already drunk and he insisted, so she might as well have what she wanted. It's just all so shocking, so sordid and disgusting and I don't even want to know any of it. If only we'd taken her in. But if we had...there is the neighbor. The neighbor who will take her in, who will give her a job...who hasn't a clue, and who thinks he is helping her, like every man always does, until he finds himself totally screwed. What I should feel is angry ~ ragingly angry. But instead, I feel that if we had taken her in, this would not have happened. Like Echolette and the military school, in a way. They did require that of their son, and blame themselves for it. We did not require it, and blame ourselves for that. This is the same thing. But I am clinging to every smallest possibility, believing every rationalization I can come up with, to make this something that isn't so stupidly, pointlessly, endlessly ugly. On top of all the other ugliness. On top of arriving at the end game empty handed..... First, as an adolescent and now, finally, as a parent. Hate to give up on that dream, Recovering. But it didn't happen. Not for me as a child, and not for me and husband as parents. "Once I began seeing it and stopping it, that compassion for myself grew." I have been believing I could believe it better, believe it whole and perfect, believe both kids into the fine people it never occurred to me they would not grow up to be. Ew. Your analogy about the snake pit hit a little too close to home, Recovering. Thank you. You are right about the honest slap. There is just so much I refuse to see. But it is what it is, and I am trying. You are right too, about establishing appropriate, inviolate defenses. It is what it is. The one area husband and I allow compassion for ourselves and each other is in acknowledging how good it must feel to have what we see everyone around us sharing with their adult kids. It's like a puzzle we don't understand. "How did this happen?" keeps us trying to figure out how to fix it. Cedar All this stuff is a little too personal, a little too vulnerable. I am going to post it anyway, though. There have to be other parents out there going through something similar. Plus? This site is anonymous. :O) [/QUOTE]
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