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What's happening to me in detachment...
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 620740" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>I think this is such an important piece, COM. More important, more valuable, to your son than to you. <u>You are his mother.</u> His interpretation of self will be absolutely affected by your take on his choices, and on his life. At the place he is now, who else in all the world loves him as you do, knows who and how he was meant to be ~ and can still become ~ but you? I believe with all my heart that if the kids are ever going to come back from where they are, it will be the lifeline of their mothers' vision of who they really are, their mothers' vision of who they can be in their best incarnations of self, that will provide a lifeline to recovery. Maybe, just an unspoken spark, something that will give them the strength to believe they can do it.</p><p></p><p>A spark is a spark. It's better than no spark.</p><p></p><p>Your actions were correct. The outcome is not something you can control. If your son is determined to walk this path, he will. But if the time ever comes when he decides to come back, your sure assessment of his true identity will shine for him like a light in the darkest forest.</p><p></p><p>And he will be able to find his way out.</p><p></p><p>I believe that with all my heart, for both my kids.</p><p></p><p>I may never see it. I may die before they choose a better way. </p><p></p><p>But they will always know that I saw them taking that better path, that I believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that this finer person, this better, more productive path, was the one they were meant to take. </p><p></p><p>People say I am a fool to believe as I do, to believe as fervently in my own power to believe for them when they cannot. You know what they say: I have been a fool for lesser things.</p><p></p><p>I know who my kids are. I know what they are capable of in a way no one else, especially no one looking at them now, can know these things.</p><p></p><p>It is hard to let go of control, COM. We have laid down the law, told them what we expect. That they do not change is infuriating. That is the part we need to learn to let go of. Do your best. Be your best self for this child who may not change his path in your lifetime.</p><p></p><p>And let go.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>No, you don't need to work toward respecting a child who is going the wrong way. You can (and do, and cannot help but to) love him. He is your son. Much as we might wish it to be different sometimes, we love our children to distraction. I seem to have no control over that, at all. I am appalled, ashamed, so (curse word ~ a verb :O) angry. But I am powerless before the way I feel about my kids.</p><p></p><p>But that does not mean I need to require myself to respect any smallest thing about the wrong choices, the wrong thinking, the hurtful, stupid choices they make, destroying that thing I love more than I have words to describe in the process. In a sense, and I know everyone is going to say I am wrong on this one too, but in a sense, my kids do not have the right to do what they are doing to my children.</p><p></p><p>And that is the core of the reason I am so blindingly spitting angry, with them, with myself, with the world.</p><p></p><p>It wasn't supposed to be this way.</p><p></p><p>But...it is.</p><p></p><p>It is crazy making.</p><p></p><p>This helped me:</p><p></p><p>"Seboulissa</p><p>mother goddess with one breast</p><p>eaten away by worms of sorrow </p><p>and loss</p><p></p><p>See me, now....</p><p></p><p>Your severed daughter</p><p>laughing our name into echo</p><p>all the world shall remember.</p><p></p><p>Audre Lourde</p><p></p><p>The Politics of Women's Spirituality</p><p>Charlene Spretnak</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>This helped me: Buy some of those little white candles, not the votives, the scented kind. I like the scent of Clean Linen. When these kinds of feelings, that kind of fear I just could not process or rationalize away happened to me (And this always happened around my son, not my daughter...he seemed more lost in his addiction than my daughter ever did.) I would light a candle for him, envisioning a light in the window, envisioning a way home, a way back to himself.</p><p></p><p>After a time, a minute or an hour, whatever I needed, I blew the candle out. Later, I wrapped it and put it in a safe place.</p><p></p><p>It seemed like a holy thing to me, that candle.</p><p></p><p>That was how I loved my son, and my deepest, most confused and hurt and angry self, through the worst of it.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>No it isn't. You are right to be angry. As MWM tells us, neither mental illness nor a tendency toward alcohol or addiction are valid excuses. Though it may be harder for our kids to make the good choice, they are fully capable of doing so.</p><p></p><p>They are choosing what they do.</p><p></p><p>As their parents, we can ~ and I suppose, we have to force ourselves to ~ accept the brutal truth of what is happening, of what is being lost and destroyed in every minute they are on these self destructive paths. We have to know these truths, and the truth of our own powerlessness, or we will go down with them.</p><p></p><p>And then, we have to let go.</p><p></p><p>I don't know why it is this way. I only know that is what it looks and feels like to me.</p><p></p><p>Maybe the difference between helping and enabling is that we enable once we know better than to hope, because we refuse to face what is. </p><p></p><p>I don't know.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Ha! You're not even going to believe this one, but I can help with that, too. They did not call me a helicopter mom for nothing! I earned that title fair and square.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>So, there is a site: <a href="http://www.flylady.com" target="_blank">www.flylady.com</a> about organizing the home, cleaning and etc. Anyway, her take on getting ourselves to part with our stuff is to go through whatever closet or cupboard it is and, singing some song about our love affair having been wonderful but out you go, hope you find someone to love you half as well, put the item in a bag. Then, put the bag on the shelf. Next time we are cleaning, we either go through the bag to be sure there isn't something in there we want, or we donate the whole bag without having a peek inside. She reminds us to be gentle with ourselves as we do this, because when we bought those things, they mattered, they answered to something in us.</p><p></p><p>And that is sacred, because we are sacred.</p><p></p><p>It was such a cool way of looking at destressing and decluttering.</p><p></p><p>I wish I could remember the name of the song. It was perfect for the task, sweet and funny and just so right.</p><p></p><p>Also, we are to envision how happy someone who has nothing will be to have this thing we no longer take pleasure in.</p><p></p><p>And we are to envision how sweet it will be to sense the calmness of simplicity, that calmness that comes with knowing our homes are filled and furnished solely with that which gives us pleasure.</p><p></p><p>Not that I have ever done that.</p><p></p><p>:O) </p><p></p><p>Here is a secret: husband and I came to Florida with nothing. Not so much as a fork. No sheets. No furniture. I mean, we literally came, knowing we were going to begin a life down here, with nothing but a dog, a cat, each other and the clothes on our backs.</p><p></p><p>It has been seven years. In that time, we have moved once. Which means, we threw out everything we didn't think we needed once already in that time.</p><p></p><p>Our house is stuffed to bursting with stuff. We are literally overflowing with stuff. I like to blame that on the attic. It is my firm belief that a person with an attic has more stuff.</p><p></p><p>If it wasn't so disheartening, we would have a yard sale.</p><p></p><p>It bothers me to have all that stuff I no longer love, too.</p><p></p><p>Fortunately, you have to pull the attic steps down with a ladder. I am not strong enough to do that. husband has to do it. </p><p></p><p>And like most men?</p><p></p><p>husband could care less what is in the attic.</p><p></p><p>Life is good.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 620740, member: 17461"] I think this is such an important piece, COM. More important, more valuable, to your son than to you. [U]You are his mother.[/U] His interpretation of self will be absolutely affected by your take on his choices, and on his life. At the place he is now, who else in all the world loves him as you do, knows who and how he was meant to be ~ and can still become ~ but you? I believe with all my heart that if the kids are ever going to come back from where they are, it will be the lifeline of their mothers' vision of who they really are, their mothers' vision of who they can be in their best incarnations of self, that will provide a lifeline to recovery. Maybe, just an unspoken spark, something that will give them the strength to believe they can do it. A spark is a spark. It's better than no spark. Your actions were correct. The outcome is not something you can control. If your son is determined to walk this path, he will. But if the time ever comes when he decides to come back, your sure assessment of his true identity will shine for him like a light in the darkest forest. And he will be able to find his way out. I believe that with all my heart, for both my kids. I may never see it. I may die before they choose a better way. But they will always know that I saw them taking that better path, that I believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that this finer person, this better, more productive path, was the one they were meant to take. People say I am a fool to believe as I do, to believe as fervently in my own power to believe for them when they cannot. You know what they say: I have been a fool for lesser things. I know who my kids are. I know what they are capable of in a way no one else, especially no one looking at them now, can know these things. It is hard to let go of control, COM. We have laid down the law, told them what we expect. That they do not change is infuriating. That is the part we need to learn to let go of. Do your best. Be your best self for this child who may not change his path in your lifetime. And let go. No, you don't need to work toward respecting a child who is going the wrong way. You can (and do, and cannot help but to) love him. He is your son. Much as we might wish it to be different sometimes, we love our children to distraction. I seem to have no control over that, at all. I am appalled, ashamed, so (curse word ~ a verb :O) angry. But I am powerless before the way I feel about my kids. But that does not mean I need to require myself to respect any smallest thing about the wrong choices, the wrong thinking, the hurtful, stupid choices they make, destroying that thing I love more than I have words to describe in the process. In a sense, and I know everyone is going to say I am wrong on this one too, but in a sense, my kids do not have the right to do what they are doing to my children. And that is the core of the reason I am so blindingly spitting angry, with them, with myself, with the world. It wasn't supposed to be this way. But...it is. It is crazy making. This helped me: "Seboulissa mother goddess with one breast eaten away by worms of sorrow and loss See me, now.... Your severed daughter laughing our name into echo all the world shall remember. Audre Lourde The Politics of Women's Spirituality Charlene Spretnak This helped me: Buy some of those little white candles, not the votives, the scented kind. I like the scent of Clean Linen. When these kinds of feelings, that kind of fear I just could not process or rationalize away happened to me (And this always happened around my son, not my daughter...he seemed more lost in his addiction than my daughter ever did.) I would light a candle for him, envisioning a light in the window, envisioning a way home, a way back to himself. After a time, a minute or an hour, whatever I needed, I blew the candle out. Later, I wrapped it and put it in a safe place. It seemed like a holy thing to me, that candle. That was how I loved my son, and my deepest, most confused and hurt and angry self, through the worst of it. No it isn't. You are right to be angry. As MWM tells us, neither mental illness nor a tendency toward alcohol or addiction are valid excuses. Though it may be harder for our kids to make the good choice, they are fully capable of doing so. They are choosing what they do. As their parents, we can ~ and I suppose, we have to force ourselves to ~ accept the brutal truth of what is happening, of what is being lost and destroyed in every minute they are on these self destructive paths. We have to know these truths, and the truth of our own powerlessness, or we will go down with them. And then, we have to let go. I don't know why it is this way. I only know that is what it looks and feels like to me. Maybe the difference between helping and enabling is that we enable once we know better than to hope, because we refuse to face what is. I don't know. Ha! You're not even going to believe this one, but I can help with that, too. They did not call me a helicopter mom for nothing! I earned that title fair and square. :O) So, there is a site: [url="http://www.flylady.com"]www.flylady.com[/url] about organizing the home, cleaning and etc. Anyway, her take on getting ourselves to part with our stuff is to go through whatever closet or cupboard it is and, singing some song about our love affair having been wonderful but out you go, hope you find someone to love you half as well, put the item in a bag. Then, put the bag on the shelf. Next time we are cleaning, we either go through the bag to be sure there isn't something in there we want, or we donate the whole bag without having a peek inside. She reminds us to be gentle with ourselves as we do this, because when we bought those things, they mattered, they answered to something in us. And that is sacred, because we are sacred. It was such a cool way of looking at destressing and decluttering. I wish I could remember the name of the song. It was perfect for the task, sweet and funny and just so right. Also, we are to envision how happy someone who has nothing will be to have this thing we no longer take pleasure in. And we are to envision how sweet it will be to sense the calmness of simplicity, that calmness that comes with knowing our homes are filled and furnished solely with that which gives us pleasure. Not that I have ever done that. :O) Here is a secret: husband and I came to Florida with nothing. Not so much as a fork. No sheets. No furniture. I mean, we literally came, knowing we were going to begin a life down here, with nothing but a dog, a cat, each other and the clothes on our backs. It has been seven years. In that time, we have moved once. Which means, we threw out everything we didn't think we needed once already in that time. Our house is stuffed to bursting with stuff. We are literally overflowing with stuff. I like to blame that on the attic. It is my firm belief that a person with an attic has more stuff. If it wasn't so disheartening, we would have a yard sale. It bothers me to have all that stuff I no longer love, too. Fortunately, you have to pull the attic steps down with a ladder. I am not strong enough to do that. husband has to do it. And like most men? husband could care less what is in the attic. Life is good. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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