Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Good job, Mom. No matter how lousy your parents were, they didn't kill your ability to excel as a parent. That means you win (and so does your son). > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 (((((((Karla)))))) The genuine love and caring you showed your son just made me tear up, it was so damned wonderful. You are one of the lucky ones who gets to " undo " the damage you yourself endured as a child by being a good, nurturing, normal, mentally healthy parent to your own child or children. That is just so awesome. As you described what you went through yourself as a child, your feeling that sharing anything negative with your parents was actually dangerous, I experienced a pang of empathy. I know that sense of being afraid to go to your parents for advice or comfort. For me, that was asking for more hurt, more confusion, more degradation and damage. Thank you for sharing that experience with us, it is so hopeful and positive, that even though you (and most of us here) endured negative, destructive parenting that it didn't damage your core of human empathy and compassion. -Annie > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Karla, I also have a 12 year old son and I can completely relate to this. It does make me sad to think about how I was never given a chance to express myself or be understood. I try to redirect some of that hurt and make sure I AM there for MY kids in the way I never had it. And that helps ease the pain for me. But I have spent a lot of times walking away and crying in another room and remember how awful it felt not to have someone there to comfort me, so I understand how you feel. What I Missed I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. Blessings, Karla Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 This was a beautiful anecdote of you and your son, thank you for sharing. It is sad that we couldn't all have the kind of support from our FOO that you are showing to your child, but it gives me hope that even though you were mistreated, you are not doing the same. Casey > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Karla, What a wonderful mother you are to your son. He is fortunate to have you. And how wonderful that you are able to care for him so well when you did not receive this kind of care yourself. Way to go! On Mon, Sep 27, 2010 at 7:18 AM, kyjohnson40days wrote: > > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and > playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. > He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had > been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen > angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, > gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I > believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of > his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to > school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of > sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he > immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving > such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back > to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of > my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. > And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and > connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was > struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How > much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 You didnt get love from Nada. But love is in you. In that time you LOVED your son, more than any words would ever tell him. It won t be unnoticed. Doug > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 For me I just feel blessed that I can be the mum to my daughter the one that I always wanted. Having a Nada and Fada definately gave me great learning for not what to do. Kazam x > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 That's what my Sister did: she used our nada as a " negative example " and tried to think things through instead of reacting emotionally and irrationally when she was raising her boy. If it was something our mom would do to us, she made a point of avoiding it, so there were no rage-tantrums, no name-calling, no humiliating or shaming and no physical abuse of my nephew. She treated her son like a fellow human being, with feelings and thoughts and opinions of his own. Consequences for unwanted behaviors were things like time outs and losing privileges. Maybe a little yelling (I saw her yelling a few times, when he was older) but no terrifying, out-of-control red faced screaming rage-tantrums. He turned out pretty darn good! -Annie > > > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > > > Blessings, > > Karla > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Karla, One of the things my therapist tells me over and over is to remember that as we raise our children we are going to experience constant " triggers " ... Experiencing these triggers is going to be difficult at best but I have to say that you have handled it awesomely!! First, you are the parent your son needs... The beautiful thing in that is that you are something so beautiful and wonderful to him even when you never had that example in your own life... (In my opinion that is a God thing!) Second, you handled the " trigger " very well... You thought it over, realized what it was, journaled (here) about it, and then you keep going... Great job!! You should be proud!! I know your son is!! > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Thanks, everyone! You know? I've thought about this more today. I think one of the reasons it is so difficult is this: It really really really isn't all that hard. So I lost an hour of sleep. Big deal. So I listened and affirmed him. Not tough at all. So I spent 1/2 hour taking him to school. No problem--moms re-arrange schedules as a matter of course. In fact, talking to him about the his world (and having the honor of trust in the life of my 12-year-old, who is supposed to only trust his peers) is really nice. It just makes me realize how we lost so much for something that should have been so little. Sheesh. I agree with everyone here, though. This whole scenario was a cause for celebration. I'm a really good mom, and that is the one job I promised myself I wouldn't screw up. So far, so good!! Blessings, Karla > > > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > > > Blessings, > > Karla > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Karla, I was babysitting recently, and I had the same thought. How hard is this, really? I know parenting is stressful and it's 24-7. I know that. I watched a 14 mo. old recently and he wanted to climb up stairs so that is what we did. I was behind him to make sure he was safe, and he crawled up each stair step. About 1/3 of the way up, he looked unsure and began to fuss a little. I put my hand gently on his back, and said, " It's OK, I'm right here. " He immediately stopped fussing, smiled, and moved to the next step. Then that scenario repeated itself a couple more times before we made it all the way up. Each touch reassured him, and he gained confidence to continue. By the time we got up, I was thinking, " Dammit, was that so hard? To be reassuring? It was not hard! It was a PLEASURE and a PRIVILEGE. I was crying with both the sadness of what I (must have) missed at that age, and the joy of helping him. Deanna > > Thanks, everyone! > > You know? I've thought about this more today. I think one of the reasons it is so difficult is this: > > It really really really isn't all that hard. > > So I lost an hour of sleep. Big deal. So I listened and affirmed him. Not tough at all. So I spent 1/2 hour taking him to school. No problem--moms re-arrange schedules as a matter of course. In fact, talking to him about the his world (and having the honor of trust in the life of my 12-year-old, who is supposed to only trust his peers) is really nice. > > It just makes me realize how we lost so much for something that should have been so little. Sheesh. > > I agree with everyone here, though. This whole scenario was a cause for celebration. I'm a really good mom, and that is the one job I promised myself I wouldn't screw up. So far, so good!! > > Blessings, > Karla Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 My BIGGEST fear in life is that I will behave like my mother when I have children. Im terrified of being like her, and I think Ill go get counselling for it sometime soon. Your post made me think of what Id missed as well. I cant remember ONCE ever getting a kiss from my mother. Hugs were a formality you did when seeing someone in the family. Mum never gave hugs for any other reason. I remember once I got a pet bird, and I was very upset that the poor bird was scared of me. I can vividly remember I went to her in tears not knowing what Id done to upset the bird. She laughed, brushed me off and went on with whatever it was she was doing. Its like she cannot comprehend the idea of a child being upset. It just doesnt compute. I used to get a lot of certificates and awards for excelling at school - she never came to a single assembly. Or ever watched me play sport. I won a medal at university for my thesis - Ive never told her - whats the point? I remember the one and only year we were allowed to go to the community Christmas Tree event. Santa turns up on a fire truck and gives all the kids a present. I was about 6 I think - and I remember my sister and I deing the only children there not to recieve a gift - parents had to organise the gift beforehand and Mum had thought it was a waste of money. Needless to say, I never asked to go again. I sometimes wonder how different my personality would have been if I had had decent parents. Hopefully I can do a better job - I would love to be a parent like you Karla - all of you on this board who are so great with your kids give me hope that I can be the same. It brings tears to my eyes, so please keep sharing stories of how you manage to do it! > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 I've noticed that my nada has a very limited capacity to appreciate the small, simple pleasures of life. From all my years observing her I think she is rarely, if ever, " in the moment " and just... appreciating it. From my observations, when she is " in the moment " and actually focusing on " the here and now " , its in a negative, critical way. I doubt that she has ever noticed how delightful it is to wake up to birdsong, or to step out of a hot shower and feel the cool air and a slightly rough towel hitting her skin. I have honestly never seen her enjoy smelling and comparing the different scents of flowers, or of perfumes at the department store. On her own, I've never heard her comment with awe on how deeply blue the sky gets in autumn, or how nearly orgasmic the smell of cooking food or baking bread is when you're really hungry. So I doubt that she was ever able to notice a baby's smile or a toddler's hug and just experience those and savor their sweetness in the moment. My nada only seems to pay attention to and enjoy big, over-the-top, splashy things. Expensive trips and jewelry, big parties, Las Vegas mega-shows, lots of attention from lots of people; those things give her pleasure. Its as though for my nada, most of the time, the small, everyday pleasures of life " don't count. " -Annie > > > > Thanks, everyone! > > > > You know? I've thought about this more today. I think one of the reasons it is so difficult is this: > > > > It really really really isn't all that hard. > > > > So I lost an hour of sleep. Big deal. So I listened and affirmed him. Not tough at all. So I spent 1/2 hour taking him to school. No problem--moms re-arrange schedules as a matter of course. In fact, talking to him about the his world (and having the honor of trust in the life of my 12-year-old, who is supposed to only trust his peers) is really nice. > > > > It just makes me realize how we lost so much for something that should have been so little. Sheesh. > > > > I agree with everyone here, though. This whole scenario was a cause for celebration. I'm a really good mom, and that is the one job I promised myself I wouldn't screw up. So far, so good!! > > > > Blessings, > > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 I've noticed that my nada has a very limited capacity to appreciate the small, simple pleasures of life. From all my years observing her I think she is rarely, if ever, " in the moment " and just... appreciating it. From my observations, when she is " in the moment " and actually focusing on " the here and now " , its in a negative, critical way. I doubt that she has ever noticed how delightful it is to wake up to birdsong, or to step out of a hot shower and feel the cool air and a slightly rough towel hitting her skin. I have honestly never seen her enjoy smelling and comparing the different scents of flowers, or of perfumes at the department store. On her own, I've never heard her comment with awe on how deeply blue the sky gets in autumn, or how nearly orgasmic the smell of cooking food or baking bread is when you're really hungry. So I doubt that she was ever able to notice a baby's smile or a toddler's hug and just experience those and savor their sweetness in the moment. My nada only seems to pay attention to and enjoy big, over-the-top, splashy things. Expensive trips and jewelry, big parties, Las Vegas mega-shows, lots of attention from lots of people; those things give her pleasure. Its as though for my nada, most of the time, the small, everyday pleasures of life " don't count. " -Annie > > > > Thanks, everyone! > > > > You know? I've thought about this more today. I think one of the reasons it is so difficult is this: > > > > It really really really isn't all that hard. > > > > So I lost an hour of sleep. Big deal. So I listened and affirmed him. Not tough at all. So I spent 1/2 hour taking him to school. No problem--moms re-arrange schedules as a matter of course. In fact, talking to him about the his world (and having the honor of trust in the life of my 12-year-old, who is supposed to only trust his peers) is really nice. > > > > It just makes me realize how we lost so much for something that should have been so little. Sheesh. > > > > I agree with everyone here, though. This whole scenario was a cause for celebration. I'm a really good mom, and that is the one job I promised myself I wouldn't screw up. So far, so good!! > > > > Blessings, > > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 27, 2010 Report Share Posted September 27, 2010 Karla, your son is one lucky lad. How beautiful for you to be there for him like that. And I feel that sadness with you over how impossible such a scene was in your early life or in mine. My nada always wanted me to keep my bedroom door open, my room adjoined hers so I had little privacy but she couldn't actually see my in my bed (thank God). But I learned how to cry silently as a mouse as I was going through teenage hell and never let her hear a peep. Your son will never ever have to learn that skill. > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 28, 2010 Report Share Posted September 28, 2010 Exactly. Stopping to smell the roses is something my mother would never do - its a waste of time. Just doing something to enjoy it? Why?? I can still imagine the look of confusion and irritation on her face if it was suggested. She screwed up her face at a family get-together when my brother and I were having a great time sharing a bottle of lovely wine - she whispered to me " just tip it out on the grass, you dont have to drink that stuff if you are thirsty " - she didnt understand how people could drink it for pure enjoyment unless it was very expensive and you were trying to impress people at a dinner party. > > I've noticed that my nada has a very limited capacity to appreciate the small, simple pleasures of life. From all my years observing her I think she is rarely, if ever, " in the moment " and just... appreciating it. > > From my observations, when she is " in the moment " and actually focusing on " the here and now " , its in a negative, critical way. > > I doubt that she has ever noticed how delightful it is to wake up to birdsong, or to step out of a hot shower and feel the cool air and a slightly rough towel hitting her skin. I have honestly never seen her enjoy smelling and comparing the different scents of flowers, or of perfumes at the department store. On her own, I've never heard her comment with awe on how deeply blue the sky gets in autumn, or how nearly orgasmic the smell of cooking food or baking bread is when you're really hungry. So I doubt that she was ever able to notice a baby's smile or a toddler's hug and just experience those and savor their sweetness in the moment. My nada only seems to pay attention to and enjoy big, over-the-top, splashy things. Expensive trips and jewelry, big parties, Las Vegas mega-shows, lots of attention from lots of people; those things give her pleasure. Its as though for my nada, most of the time, the small, everyday pleasures of life " don't count. " > > -Annie > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 28, 2010 Report Share Posted September 28, 2010 Karla, I was very moved by the beautiful way in which you handled your son's feelings. He is very lucky indeed to have such a patient, compassionate, kind and loving mother. It is an even greater credit to you that you have become that without having been given that yourself. You really should be proud. With warmth, Lynda > > > > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me a pillow . . . > > > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, really. > > > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for letting me share. > > > > Blessings, > > Karla > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 28, 2010 Report Share Posted September 28, 2010 An astute observation, Annie. I think, a deeper truth there than you realize. That is one of the keys to who they are. In some ways, they are emotionally autistic. They do not take pleasure in the small , simple pleasures, forever seeking the great massive rush or affirmation. And because they cannot take pleasure from the small and mundane, they are never satisfied. If I can only be thrilled at the top of the roller coaster, how often can I be there? If I take no joy in a sunset, or a rose opening it s petals, or a baby laughing, I miss most of the joys in life. Similarly, they never feel loved. Why? Because the simple expressions of love, like calling, or inviting them for lunch, or giving them school pictures of grandchildren, these are not enough. They want the big event! The massive, giving you a kidney, signed a pro football contract and bought my mother a million dollar house kind of expression. When these don t occur, they are disappointed and sad. And, sadly, as we come to know, if the big ones did occur, even they wouldnt be enough. And why? Because the problem is not in us, or in the others who touch a BP s life. It is in them. I remember a line from " Aunty Mame " : Life is a banquet, and most poor bastards are starving to death. That is our moms. Our nadas. Surrounded by love, and outpourings of concern, they beat their breast and weep Nobody loves me. It frustrates us, for no matter how we try, it is not seen and accepted. Too bad there is not some sort of emotional hearing aid we could put on them. And the light comes on, and they understand. But no. Doug > > I've noticed that my nada has a very limited capacity to appreciate the small, simple pleasures of life. From all my years observing her I think she is rarely, if ever, " in the moment " and just... appreciating it. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 28, 2010 Report Share Posted September 28, 2010 What a great mom you are...as much as your nada has harmed you, how awesome is it that you are *not* harming *your* child in those ways!! Ninera > > Subject: What I Missed > To: WTOAdultChildren1 > Date: Monday, September 27, 2010, 2:18 PM > I woke up at 3:00 in the morning, > because my 12-year-old son was awake and playing video > games. I asked what was wrong, and I was genuinely > concerned. He hadn't been acting like himself lately, > and I could tell something had been bothering him. > > He ended up sitting on my bedroom floor and talking about > his pre-teen angst and middle school troubles. I > listened, sympathized, reassured him, gave him some gentle > suggestions (no demeaning advice), and told him I believed > in him. After an hour of talking, he thanked me from > the bottom of his heart and said he felt tons better. > I told him I would drive him to school (he usually takes the > bus early) so he could have an extra hour of sleep. I > threw him one of my pillows and one of my blankets, and he > immediately fell asleep on my floor, peaceful and relieved. > > As I was trying to get back to sleep, I was trying to > imagine receiving such a thing in the house I grew up > in. As I traveled, in my memories, back to each room > in the house, I got kind of nauseaus. Any room that > had one of my parents in it was dangerous--especially if I > was upset about something. And . . . the thought of a > parent losing an hour of sleep over me and connecting with > me to care for me . . . giving me a safe place when I was > struggling with 12-year-old stuff . . . much less lending me > a pillow . . . > > The whole thing really made me realize just how much I > missed out on. How much all of us missed out on, > really. > > I'm not even sure how to feel about it. Thanks for > letting me share. > > Blessings, > Karla > > > > > > ------------------------------------ > > **This group is based on principles in Randi Kreger's new > book The Essential Family Guide to Borderline Personality > Disorder: New Tips and Tools to Stop Walking on Eggshells, > available at www.BPDCentral.com.** Problems? Write @.... > DO NOT RESPOND ON THE LIST. > > To unsub from this list, send a blank email to WTOAdultChildren1-unsubscribe . > > > Recommended: " Toxic Parents, " " Surviving a Borderline > Parent, " and " Understanding the Borderline Mother " (hard to > find) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.