Re: struggles and triumphs

[Guest guest]

Francisco, The kingdom of God will one day open its doors to you with joy. Your mother is trully blessed to have an angel like you in her life as are we. I will hold you and your mother in my prayers, because as a survivor of abuse I know the impact it has on all those we love. I can tell you though, from personal experience, that the love you give her is probably one of the strongest forces moving her forward.. Thank you for sharing with us, and I wish you and your family the best this world has to offer. OXOXOXOX, in L.A.manisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by

the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to

my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was

hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to

deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.Francisco

[Guest guest]

Francisco, The kingdom of God will one day open its doors to you with joy. Your mother is trully blessed to have an angel like you in her life as are we. I will hold you and your mother in my prayers, because as a survivor of abuse I know the impact it has on all those we love. I can tell you though, from personal experience, that the love you give her is probably one of the strongest forces moving her forward.. Thank you for sharing with us, and I wish you and your family the best this world has to offer. OXOXOXOX, in L.A.manisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by

the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to

my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was

hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to

deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.Francisco

[Guest guest]

Francisco, I'm so sorry to hear of your family's painful moments. I hope your mother is well enough soon to be home and things in their household improve. Family issues can be so emotional and devastating sometimes. Be well my friend....

Ron

struggles and triumphs

Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.Francisco

[Guest guest]

Francisco, I'm so sorry to hear of your family's painful moments. I hope your mother is well enough soon to be home and things in their household improve. Family issues can be so emotional and devastating sometimes. Be well my friend....

Ron

struggles and triumphs

Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.Francisco

[Guest guest]

Francisco, I am so overwhelmed with your message. What can make a

person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It

is something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in

my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when

I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years

after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes

and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love

than with the anger. Your father actually told you what he said.

That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action.

Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel

he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let

it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have

a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka

>

> Hello everyone:

>

> My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away

by

> the police after an argument with my father.

>

> She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.

>

> My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy

> medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did

last

> night.

>

> She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so

> tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love

her

> as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take

> away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her

doze

> off as I rubbed her feet.

>

> My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me

yesterday

> that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to

> her, " If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove

> your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend

> eternity with her. "

>

> I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my

mother.

> I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I

love,

> but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too

> much to hurt someone like that.

>

> My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a

> very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His

> childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but

I

> can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.

>

> Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role

in

> their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each

> other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

protect

> my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's

hand

> in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home)

> haunt me to this day.

>

> The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my

mother

> was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand

as

> she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for

someone

> to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

abusive

> mother left me forever changed.

>

> My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic

past.

> I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught

me

> love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can

> make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother

to

> me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she

offered

> me unconditional love, as she always had.

>

> I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my

> mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect

for

> him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken,

> heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

strong--

> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he

is

> sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling

me

> about it.

>

> I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're

> spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's

> disease.

>

> I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last

night

> on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> said, " I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you

can

> get it out. " I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.

>

> It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease

> such deep pain.

>

> While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for

support

> of people like Steve, and like all of you.

>

> I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the

> pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via

email,

> satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.

>

> Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful

newbies.

> And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or

> more). We're all here for each other.

>

> We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out

the

> old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.

>

> Francisco

>

[Guest guest]

Francisco, I am so overwhelmed with your message. What can make a

person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It

is something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in

my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when

I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years

after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes

and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love

than with the anger. Your father actually told you what he said.

That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action.

Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel

he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let

it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have

a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka

>

> Hello everyone:

>

> My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away

by

> the police after an argument with my father.

>

> She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.

>

> My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy

> medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did

last

> night.

>

> She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so

> tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love

her

> as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take

> away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her

doze

> off as I rubbed her feet.

>

> My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me

yesterday

> that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to

> her, " If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove

> your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend

> eternity with her. "

>

> I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my

mother.

> I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I

love,

> but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too

> much to hurt someone like that.

>

> My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a

> very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His

> childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but

I

> can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.

>

> Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role

in

> their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each

> other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

protect

> my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's

hand

> in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home)

> haunt me to this day.

>

> The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my

mother

> was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand

as

> she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for

someone

> to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

abusive

> mother left me forever changed.

>

> My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic

past.

> I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught

me

> love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can

> make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother

to

> me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she

offered

> me unconditional love, as she always had.

>

> I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my

> mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect

for

> him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken,

> heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

strong--

> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he

is

> sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling

me

> about it.

>

> I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're

> spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's

> disease.

>

> I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last

night

> on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> said, " I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you

can

> get it out. " I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.

>

> It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease

> such deep pain.

>

> While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for

support

> of people like Steve, and like all of you.

>

> I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the

> pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via

email,

> satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.

>

> Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful

newbies.

> And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or

> more). We're all here for each other.

>

> We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out

the

> old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.

>

> Francisco

>

[Guest guest]

Francisco- I will keep you and your mom and your dad in my prayers, I am glad you went to see your mom and I am sure you are of great comfort to her, I hope you shared with her all the joys in life that she shared with you the art, music and i know she taught you the love of dance !, I want you and your mom to be able to dance in your hearts........and your minds. I hope things get better for all of you and can I hope that your friend Steve was able to bring you some comfort this weekend. Colleenmanisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother

(who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive.

It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to

help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me

about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to

you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.Francisco

Colleen

[Guest guest]

Francisco- I will keep you and your mom and your dad in my prayers, I am glad you went to see your mom and I am sure you are of great comfort to her, I hope you shared with her all the joys in life that she shared with you the art, music and i know she taught you the love of dance !, I want you and your mom to be able to dance in your hearts........and your minds. I hope things get better for all of you and can I hope that your friend Steve was able to bring you some comfort this weekend. Colleenmanisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother

(who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive.

It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to

help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me

about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to

you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.Francisco

Colleen

[Guest guest]

Oh Francisco, my heart goes out to you. If you need me, just please

give me a call...I hope you still have my number: .

I will say a prayer and light a candle for your mother, your father

and YOU.

I wish there was something wise, I could say to ease your pain. But

hopefully knowing you can always count on me to be there for you

will help at least a little.

Big Huggles my friend

>

> Hello everyone:

>

> My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away

by

> the police after an argument with my father.

>

> She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.

>

> My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy

> medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did

last

> night.

>

> She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so

> tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love

her

> as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take

> away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her

doze

> off as I rubbed her feet.

>

> My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me

yesterday

> that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to

> her, " If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove

> your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend

> eternity with her. "

>

> I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my

mother.

> I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I

love,

> but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too

> much to hurt someone like that.

>

> My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a

> very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His

> childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but

I

> can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.

>

> Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role

in

> their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each

> other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

protect

> my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's

hand

> in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home)

> haunt me to this day.

>

> The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my

mother

> was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand

as

> she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for

someone

> to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

abusive

> mother left me forever changed.

>

> My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic

past.

> I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught

me

> love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can

> make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother

to

> me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she

offered

> me unconditional love, as she always had.

>

> I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my

> mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect

for

> him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken,

> heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

strong--

> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he

is

> sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling

me

> about it.

>

> I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're

> spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's

> disease.

>

> I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last

night

> on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> said, " I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you

can

> get it out. " I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.

>

> It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease

> such deep pain.

>

> While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for

support

> of people like Steve, and like all of you.

>

> I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the

> pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via

email,

> satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.

>

> Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful

newbies.

> And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or

> more). We're all here for each other.

>

> We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out

the

> old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.

>

> Francisco

>

[Guest guest]

Oh Francisco, my heart goes out to you. If you need me, just please

give me a call...I hope you still have my number: .

I will say a prayer and light a candle for your mother, your father

and YOU.

I wish there was something wise, I could say to ease your pain. But

hopefully knowing you can always count on me to be there for you

will help at least a little.

Big Huggles my friend

>

> Hello everyone:

>

> My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away

by

> the police after an argument with my father.

>

> She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.

>

> My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy

> medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did

last

> night.

>

> She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so

> tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love

her

> as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take

> away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her

doze

> off as I rubbed her feet.

>

> My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me

yesterday

> that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to

> her, " If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove

> your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend

> eternity with her. "

>

> I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my

mother.

> I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I

love,

> but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too

> much to hurt someone like that.

>

> My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a

> very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His

> childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but

I

> can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.

>

> Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role

in

> their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each

> other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

protect

> my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's

hand

> in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home)

> haunt me to this day.

>

> The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my

mother

> was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand

as

> she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for

someone

> to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

abusive

> mother left me forever changed.

>

> My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic

past.

> I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught

me

> love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can

> make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother

to

> me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she

offered

> me unconditional love, as she always had.

>

> I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my

> mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect

for

> him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken,

> heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

strong--

> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he

is

> sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling

me

> about it.

>

> I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're

> spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's

> disease.

>

> I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last

night

> on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> said, " I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you

can

> get it out. " I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.

>

> It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease

> such deep pain.

>

> While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for

support

> of people like Steve, and like all of you.

>

> I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the

> pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via

email,

> satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.

>

> Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful

newbies.

> And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or

> more). We're all here for each other.

>

> We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out

the

> old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.

>

> Francisco

>

[Guest guest]

Francisco I relate to all you say. My husbands mother was in the mental hospital and was lost in this world, but at the same time a very beautiful person if you opened up to what she knew and felt about this life. My husband never showed signs of mental illness until 3 years after we were married and then it was a panic attack once in a while, then lots of anxiety a few years later, then more years lots of depression, with time more came and worsened. I've tried with all my heart to work through all the problems trying not to give in on losing the marriage, and he is the most sensitive guy at times, loves art and music, can fix anything, is so smart and yet the anger has built up because of the mental illness. All the classes have helped some, but can't fix him, I still love him. They split is hard but it is working for all of us, I will stay close if he will let me, but yet far enough so I can keep my boundaries when his anger is

there. So I understand keeping the distance. You've been through a lot, hang in there. Things will get better, all things take time. Though we hurt inside we need to be thinking of what's best for us, not just every one around us, we count too. You take care. Donnamanisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms,

trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things

were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me

love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm

looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the

old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.FranciscoDonna JordonDSJordon@...

Yahoo! Mail

Bring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze.

[Guest guest]

Francisco I relate to all you say. My husbands mother was in the mental hospital and was lost in this world, but at the same time a very beautiful person if you opened up to what she knew and felt about this life. My husband never showed signs of mental illness until 3 years after we were married and then it was a panic attack once in a while, then lots of anxiety a few years later, then more years lots of depression, with time more came and worsened. I've tried with all my heart to work through all the problems trying not to give in on losing the marriage, and he is the most sensitive guy at times, loves art and music, can fix anything, is so smart and yet the anger has built up because of the mental illness. All the classes have helped some, but can't fix him, I still love him. They split is hard but it is working for all of us, I will stay close if he will let me, but yet far enough so I can keep my boundaries when his anger is

there. So I understand keeping the distance. You've been through a lot, hang in there. Things will get better, all things take time. Though we hurt inside we need to be thinking of what's best for us, not just every one around us, we count too. You take care. Donnamanisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms,

trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things

were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me

love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm

looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the

old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.FranciscoDonna JordonDSJordon@...

Yahoo! Mail

Bring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze.

[Guest guest]

Francisco, I want to say more than I will have time to say here (I just read this, and I have to run to a meeting.) Please know how much I care about you, and how deeply sorry I am that you are having to go through such a difficult time. I'm here for you if you need me, I'm glad that Steve is stepping up to the plate to be there for you. Big hugs and kisses. We love you, RobynnDonna Jordon wrote: Francisco I relate to all you say. My husbands mother was in the mental hospital and was lost in this world, but at the same time a very beautiful person if you opened up to what she knew and felt about this life. My husband never showed signs of mental illness until 3 years after we

were married and then it was a panic attack once in a while, then lots of anxiety a few years later, then more years lots of depression, with time more came and worsened. I've tried with all my heart to work through all the problems trying not to give in on losing the marriage, and he is the most sensitive guy at times, loves art and music, can fix anything, is so smart and yet the anger has built up because of the mental illness. All the classes have helped some, but can't fix him, I still love him. They split is hard but it is working for all of us, I will stay close if he will let me, but yet far enough so I can keep my boundaries when his anger is there. So I understand keeping the distance. You've been through a lot, hang in there. Things will get better, all things take time. Though we hurt inside we need to be thinking of what's best for us, not just every one around us, we count too. You take care.

Donnamanisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes

he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from

them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to

cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's

amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.FranciscoDonna JordonDSJordon@... Yahoo! MailBring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze.

[Guest guest]

Francisco, I want to say more than I will have time to say here (I just read this, and I have to run to a meeting.) Please know how much I care about you, and how deeply sorry I am that you are having to go through such a difficult time. I'm here for you if you need me, I'm glad that Steve is stepping up to the plate to be there for you. Big hugs and kisses. We love you, RobynnDonna Jordon wrote: Francisco I relate to all you say. My husbands mother was in the mental hospital and was lost in this world, but at the same time a very beautiful person if you opened up to what she knew and felt about this life. My husband never showed signs of mental illness until 3 years after we

were married and then it was a panic attack once in a while, then lots of anxiety a few years later, then more years lots of depression, with time more came and worsened. I've tried with all my heart to work through all the problems trying not to give in on losing the marriage, and he is the most sensitive guy at times, loves art and music, can fix anything, is so smart and yet the anger has built up because of the mental illness. All the classes have helped some, but can't fix him, I still love him. They split is hard but it is working for all of us, I will stay close if he will let me, but yet far enough so I can keep my boundaries when his anger is there. So I understand keeping the distance. You've been through a lot, hang in there. Things will get better, all things take time. Though we hurt inside we need to be thinking of what's best for us, not just every one around us, we count too. You take care.

Donnamanisodream wrote: Hello everyone:My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by the police after an argument with my father.She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last night.She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze off as I rubbed her feet.My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday that sometimes

he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend eternity with her."I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too much to hurt someone like that.My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each other. That is why I keep a distance from

them. I have to protect my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) haunt me to this day.The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive mother left me forever changed.My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered me unconditional love, as she always had. I started to

cry when my father told me that he said that to my mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me about it.I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's disease.I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.It's

amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease such deep pain.While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support of people like Steve, and like all of you.I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or more). We're all here for each other.We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.FranciscoDonna JordonDSJordon@... Yahoo! MailBring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze.

[Guest guest]

Francisco,

I'm so sorry to hear about your family's troubles. Dealing with the

problems of our birth families is just about the hardest thing to do,

since they go so deep inside us to places that were formed when we

were so little and so powerless.

You've gone so far on your journey of self-discovery that you can see

some of those things in a new light - like your insight on why your

father was telling you what he told your mother. I was thinking, as I

read your story, that in some way you are now like the adult who sees

children " acting out " , while your father is like a guilty child who

doesn't really understand why he does what he does. The difference,

of course, is that you can't change them - you can only love them,

and show them by example a different way of living.

A phrase that just popped into my mind is " be the change you wish to

see in the world " . You are doing that. Your capacity for love is

evident in how you deal with people. Be strong, Francisco. And cry

when you need to. <<<<Hug>>>>

Cathy C.

[Guest guest]

Francisco... I think your dad, who no doubt has his own problems, is probably exhausted from living with somebody who is mentally ill. That is a very very hard road, as Donna can attest. The person who is ill, whether it be mentally or physically, gets all of the attention...and the family structure necessarily revolves around that person. If you've ever seen Bradshaw, who speaks about "shame", he uses a very effective tool to demonstrate this. He uses one of those mobiles, you know...the type that hangs over a baby's crib. He shows that if you move one piece of the mobile, all of the other pieces alter their movement to conform with the moving piece. That person drives the path that the family structure takes. ANd it affects every other piece in a different way. It's hard to be patient, and it's hard to always do the right

thing. Everyone reacts differently to that kind of stress. And it's hard to have somebody's bad behaviour always be justified because that person is "ill". I think that mental illness is the hardest thing to handle, because it is a normal reaction to believe on some level that the person who is ill can somehow control it. Control the behaviour. It takes a special person to maintain constant compassion, and to realize that the illness is really the thing dictating the behaviour. And you are a special person. It could be that he is lashing out at you, and made that comment, because he feels that he falls short. That he fails as a spouse, and that, in some ways, she finds more comfort in you than in him. There could be a bit of a father/son competition that is going on...without you even being cognizant of it. Maybe he isn't even consciously aware of it. Additionally, many times people resent others who are able to rise above their own selfishness. Because, it is like a mirror, isn't it? you see your own failures and shortcomings in the reflection..because you compare your own reactions to those who are reacting in a more unselfish manner. And to be perfectly fair to your father...while her illness has had a horrible impact on you all...you guys can walk away to some degree. You can live in a separate house, and find your emotional fulfillment with Steve and others. If he sought other company, he'd be a bad guy. If he left the house, he'd be a bad guy. So, it's like he's stuck, doing the best he can, and really getting very little back...and it's exhausting. And when he loses his patience, or he thinks about leaving...he has to feel awful and guilty and then ultimately, he starts to question whether he's entitled to any happiness. He sees you, his son, finding health and happiness...and finding this compassion for her...and he probably feels torn between his pride and happiness for you...and jealousy. Jealous because you have the promise of a better life than he has. It was bad to say it, and I know it hurt you. But you said he really isn't a bad guy...and so I imagine he's just tired and hopeless...and he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. And...you know...sometimes kids come waltzing in (not saying you did that, but that may be how he perceives it) and try to take over as the spouse or parent figure. He lives this reality day in and day out as the partner of somebody who is ill...and I imagine that it's easy for him to feel angry and defensive, to the extent that he may perceive that you and your siblings are overly protective of your mother...and not overly compassionate to him. So...I guess all I can

say that might help you ultimately let go of the hurt and disappointement is try and channel into your compassion for him and his situation. By so doing, you may not feel the barbs of his comment as strongly, because you'll get that it isn't really about you. And while, as children, you can't choose yoiur parents...and he, of course, chose his spouse, so it may seem like he deserves less compassion for his injuries than the children of that marriage deserve...I think I remember that you were raised Catholic, and your parents are from cultures where divorce is not an option. So, even though he made his choice, and so...in a way, he had more control over his destiny with your mother than you did...one can certainly admire him for sticking to that decision...and one can understand why sometimes he is very angry and why he feels sorry for himself for the lot he has undertaken. I'm

sure your mother is wonderful in many, many ways. But a person who is mentally ill is simply not capable of being an equal partner in a marriage. Things wind up revolving around her, her needs, her limitations, her capabilities. That doesn't leave a lot of room for his needs. And he's expected not to really have any limitations...because he has to be strong for her. that's got to be a tough tough thing. You are a compassionate soul, my friend. I'm glad you are there for your mom. You can be there for her as a relief pitcher...because your dad's arm is tired, and his aim isn't as true right now. Good luck, my friend. Kisses on your wounded heart. RobynnLilka wrote: Francisco, I am so overwhelmed

with your message. What can make a person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It is something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love than with the anger. Your father actually told you what he said. That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action. Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka>> Hello everyone:> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by > the police after an argument with my father.> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last > night.> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze > off as I rubbed her feet.> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He

told me that he said to > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > eternity with her."> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > much to hurt someone like that.> > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in > their relationship. They both can be verbally

abusive of each > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > haunt me to this day.> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive > mother left me forever changed.> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > make friends so easily. She has

always been such a loving mother to > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me > about it.> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > disease.> > I'm looking

forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > such deep pain.> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > more). We're all

here for each other.> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > Francisco>

[Guest guest]

Francisco... I think your dad, who no doubt has his own problems, is probably exhausted from living with somebody who is mentally ill. That is a very very hard road, as Donna can attest. The person who is ill, whether it be mentally or physically, gets all of the attention...and the family structure necessarily revolves around that person. If you've ever seen Bradshaw, who speaks about "shame", he uses a very effective tool to demonstrate this. He uses one of those mobiles, you know...the type that hangs over a baby's crib. He shows that if you move one piece of the mobile, all of the other pieces alter their movement to conform with the moving piece. That person drives the path that the family structure takes. ANd it affects every other piece in a different way. It's hard to be patient, and it's hard to always do the right

thing. Everyone reacts differently to that kind of stress. And it's hard to have somebody's bad behaviour always be justified because that person is "ill". I think that mental illness is the hardest thing to handle, because it is a normal reaction to believe on some level that the person who is ill can somehow control it. Control the behaviour. It takes a special person to maintain constant compassion, and to realize that the illness is really the thing dictating the behaviour. And you are a special person. It could be that he is lashing out at you, and made that comment, because he feels that he falls short. That he fails as a spouse, and that, in some ways, she finds more comfort in you than in him. There could be a bit of a father/son competition that is going on...without you even being cognizant of it. Maybe he isn't even consciously aware of it. Additionally, many times people resent others who are able to rise above their own selfishness. Because, it is like a mirror, isn't it? you see your own failures and shortcomings in the reflection..because you compare your own reactions to those who are reacting in a more unselfish manner. And to be perfectly fair to your father...while her illness has had a horrible impact on you all...you guys can walk away to some degree. You can live in a separate house, and find your emotional fulfillment with Steve and others. If he sought other company, he'd be a bad guy. If he left the house, he'd be a bad guy. So, it's like he's stuck, doing the best he can, and really getting very little back...and it's exhausting. And when he loses his patience, or he thinks about leaving...he has to feel awful and guilty and then ultimately, he starts to question whether he's entitled to any happiness. He sees you, his son, finding health and happiness...and finding this compassion for her...and he probably feels torn between his pride and happiness for you...and jealousy. Jealous because you have the promise of a better life than he has. It was bad to say it, and I know it hurt you. But you said he really isn't a bad guy...and so I imagine he's just tired and hopeless...and he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. And...you know...sometimes kids come waltzing in (not saying you did that, but that may be how he perceives it) and try to take over as the spouse or parent figure. He lives this reality day in and day out as the partner of somebody who is ill...and I imagine that it's easy for him to feel angry and defensive, to the extent that he may perceive that you and your siblings are overly protective of your mother...and not overly compassionate to him. So...I guess all I can

say that might help you ultimately let go of the hurt and disappointement is try and channel into your compassion for him and his situation. By so doing, you may not feel the barbs of his comment as strongly, because you'll get that it isn't really about you. And while, as children, you can't choose yoiur parents...and he, of course, chose his spouse, so it may seem like he deserves less compassion for his injuries than the children of that marriage deserve...I think I remember that you were raised Catholic, and your parents are from cultures where divorce is not an option. So, even though he made his choice, and so...in a way, he had more control over his destiny with your mother than you did...one can certainly admire him for sticking to that decision...and one can understand why sometimes he is very angry and why he feels sorry for himself for the lot he has undertaken. I'm

sure your mother is wonderful in many, many ways. But a person who is mentally ill is simply not capable of being an equal partner in a marriage. Things wind up revolving around her, her needs, her limitations, her capabilities. That doesn't leave a lot of room for his needs. And he's expected not to really have any limitations...because he has to be strong for her. that's got to be a tough tough thing. You are a compassionate soul, my friend. I'm glad you are there for your mom. You can be there for her as a relief pitcher...because your dad's arm is tired, and his aim isn't as true right now. Good luck, my friend. Kisses on your wounded heart. RobynnLilka wrote: Francisco, I am so overwhelmed

with your message. What can make a person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It is something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love than with the anger. Your father actually told you what he said. That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action. Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka>> Hello everyone:> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by > the police after an argument with my father.> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last > night.> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze > off as I rubbed her feet.> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He

told me that he said to > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > eternity with her."> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > much to hurt someone like that.> > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in > their relationship. They both can be verbally

abusive of each > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > haunt me to this day.> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive > mother left me forever changed.> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > make friends so easily. She has

always been such a loving mother to > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me > about it.> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > disease.> > I'm looking

forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > such deep pain.> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > more). We're all

here for each other.> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > Francisco>

[Guest guest]

Robynn, you are just awesome. With all my years of psychology and

therapy, I could not have written this. I am overwhelmed by you. I

hope Francisco appreciates your words as much as I do. Love to you,

Lilka

> >

> > Hello everyone:

> >

> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away

> by

> > the police after an argument with my father.

> >

> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it

all.

> >

> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by

heavy

> > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did

> last

> > night.

> >

> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--

so

> > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love

> her

> > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to

take

> > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her

> doze

> > off as I rubbed her feet.

> >

> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me

> yesterday

> > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said

to

> > her, " If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just

shove

> > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can

spend

> > eternity with her. "

> >

> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my

> mother.

> > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I

> love,

> > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me

too

> > much to hurt someone like that.

> >

> > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have

a

> > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His

> > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different,

but

> I

> > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.

> >

> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a

role

> in

> > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each

> > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

> protect

> > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's

> hand

> > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home)

> > haunt me to this day.

> >

> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my

> mother

> > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand

> as

> > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for

> someone

> > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

> abusive

> > mother left me forever changed.

> >

> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic

> past.

> > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She

taught

> me

> > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and

can

> > make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving

mother

> to

> > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she

> offered

> > me unconditional love, as she always had.

> >

> > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my

> > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect

> for

> > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of

unspoken,

> > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

> strong--

> > looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he

> is

> > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling

> me

> > about it.

> >

> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're

> > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's

> > disease.

> >

> > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last

> night

> > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> > said, " I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you

> can

> > get it out. " I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.

> >

> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can

ease

> > such deep pain.

> >

> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for

> support

> > of people like Steve, and like all of you.

> >

> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden

the

> > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via

> email,

> > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.

> >

> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful

> newbies.

> > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or

> > more). We're all here for each other.

> >

> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let

out

> the

> > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a

crutch.

> >

> > Francisco

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Robynn You said this so true, I am going to hug you for all the insight someday when I meet you. Francisco listen to this lady, she sure knows what shes talking about. Thank you both for all the wonderful words of wisdom and the amazing insight. Take care. DonnaRobynn VanPatten wrote: Francisco... I think your dad, who no doubt has his own problems, is probably exhausted from living with somebody who is mentally ill. That is a very very hard road, as Donna can attest. The person who is ill, whether it be mentally or physically, gets all of the attention...and the family structure necessarily revolves around that person. If you've ever seen Bradshaw, who speaks about "shame", he uses a very effective

tool to demonstrate this. He uses one of those mobiles, you know...the type that hangs over a baby's crib. He shows that if you move one piece of the mobile, all of the other pieces alter their movement to conform with the moving piece. That person drives the path that the family structure takes. ANd it affects every other piece in a different way. It's hard to be patient, and it's hard to always do the right thing. Everyone reacts differently to that kind of stress. And it's hard to have somebody's bad behaviour always be justified because that person is "ill". I think that mental illness is the hardest thing to handle, because it is a normal reaction to believe on some level that the person who is ill can somehow control it. Control the behaviour. It takes a special person to maintain constant compassion, and to realize that the illness is really the thing dictating

the behaviour. And you are a special person. It could be that he is lashing out at you, and made that comment, because he feels that he falls short. That he fails as a spouse, and that, in some ways, she finds more comfort in you than in him. There could be a bit of a father/son competition that is going on...without you even being cognizant of it. Maybe he isn't even consciously aware of it. Additionally, many times people resent others who are able to rise above their own selfishness. Because, it is like a mirror, isn't it? you see your own failures and shortcomings in the reflection..because you compare your own reactions to those who are reacting in a more unselfish manner. And to be perfectly fair to your father...while her illness has had a horrible impact on you all...you guys can walk away to some degree. You can live in a separate house, and

find your emotional fulfillment with Steve and others. If he sought other company, he'd be a bad guy. If he left the house, he'd be a bad guy. So, it's like he's stuck, doing the best he can, and really getting very little back...and it's exhausting. And when he loses his patience, or he thinks about leaving...he has to feel awful and guilty and then ultimately, he starts to question whether he's entitled to any happiness. He sees you, his son, finding health and happiness...and finding this compassion for her...and he probably feels torn between his pride and happiness for you...and jealousy. Jealous because you have the promise of a better life than he has. It was bad to say it, and I know it hurt you. But you said he really isn't a bad guy...and so I imagine he's just tired and hopeless...and he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. And...you know...sometimes kids come

waltzing in (not saying you did that, but that may be how he perceives it) and try to take over as the spouse or parent figure. He lives this reality day in and day out as the partner of somebody who is ill...and I imagine that it's easy for him to feel angry and defensive, to the extent that he may perceive that you and your siblings are overly protective of your mother...and not overly compassionate to him. So...I guess all I can say that might help you ultimately let go of the hurt and disappointement is try and channel into your compassion for him and his situation. By so doing, you may not feel the barbs of his comment as strongly, because you'll get that it isn't really about you. And while, as children, you can't choose yoiur parents...and he, of course, chose his spouse, so it may seem like he deserves less compassion for his injuries than the children of that

marriage deserve...I think I remember that you were raised Catholic, and your parents are from cultures where divorce is not an option. So, even though he made his choice, and so...in a way, he had more control over his destiny with your mother than you did...one can certainly admire him for sticking to that decision...and one can understand why sometimes he is very angry and why he feels sorry for himself for the lot he has undertaken. I'm sure your mother is wonderful in many, many ways. But a person who is mentally ill is simply not capable of being an equal partner in a marriage. Things wind up revolving around her, her needs, her limitations, her capabilities. That doesn't leave a lot of room for his needs. And he's expected not to really have any limitations...because he has to be strong for her. that's got to be a tough tough thing. You are a compassionate soul, my friend.

I'm glad you are there for your mom. You can be there for her as a relief pitcher...because your dad's arm is tired, and his aim isn't as true right now. Good luck, my friend. Kisses on your wounded heart. RobynnLilka wrote: Francisco, I am so overwhelmed with your message. What can make a person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It is something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love than with the anger. Your father actually told

you what he said. That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action. Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka>> Hello everyone:> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by > the police after an argument with my father.> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last > night.> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my

heart to see her that way--so > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze > off as I rubbed her feet.> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > eternity with her."> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > much to hurt someone like that.> > My

mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > haunt me to this day.> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital,

looking for someone > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive > mother left me forever changed.> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--> looked to old,

small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me > about it.> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > disease.> > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > such deep pain.> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support > of people like Steve,

and like all of you.> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > more). We're all here for each other.> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > Francisco>Donna JordonDSJordon@...

Yahoo! Mail

Bring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze.

[Guest guest]

Robynn:

Your words are of great comfort to me. You are amazing. Thanks so

much for your support.

Francisco

> >

> > Hello everyone:

> >

> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away

> by

> > the police after an argument with my father.

> >

> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.

> >

> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by

heavy

> > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did

> last

> > night.

> >

> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so

> > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love

> her

> > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take

> > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her

> doze

> > off as I rubbed her feet.

> >

> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me

> yesterday

> > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to

> > her, " If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove

> > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can

spend

> > eternity with her. "

> >

> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my

> mother.

> > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I

> love,

> > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me

too

> > much to hurt someone like that.

> >

> > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have

a

> > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His

> > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different,

but

> I

> > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.

> >

> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a

role

> in

> > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each

> > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

> protect

> > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's

> hand

> > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home)

> > haunt me to this day.

> >

> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my

> mother

> > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand

> as

> > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for

> someone

> > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

> abusive

> > mother left me forever changed.

> >

> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic

> past.

> > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She

taught

> me

> > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and

can

> > make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother

> to

> > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she

> offered

> > me unconditional love, as she always had.

> >

> > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my

> > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect

> for

> > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken,

> > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and

> strong--

> > looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he

> is

> > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling

> me

> > about it.

> >

> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're

> > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's

> > disease.

> >

> > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last

> night

> > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> > said, " I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you

> can

> > get it out. " I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.

> >

> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can

ease

> > such deep pain.

> >

> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for

> support

> > of people like Steve, and like all of you.

> >

> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the

> > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via

> email,

> > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.

> >

> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful

> newbies.

> > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or

> > more). We're all here for each other.

> >

> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out

> the

> > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a

crutch.

> >

> > Francisco

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Thank you for th ekind owrds. I've lived through some of my own difficulties, and have done a lot of exploration....so, I guess that's where the words come from... I'm jealous of your training. Psychology was a field I seriously considered for a long time, but getting into Psych 101 at Berkeley was nearly impossible, and it was the building block requirement for all of the other psych classes...and so, my path went a different direction.... RobynnLilka wrote: Robynn, you are just awesome. With all my years of psychology and therapy, I could not have written this. I am overwhelmed by you. I hope Francisco appreciates your words as much as I do. Love to you, Lilka> >> > Hello everyone:> > > > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away > by > > the police after an argument with my father.> > > > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > > > My father

and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did > last > > night.> > > > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so > > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love > her > > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her > doze > > off as I rubbed her feet.> > > > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me > yesterday > > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to > > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > > eternity with

her."> > > > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my > mother. > > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I > love, > > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > > much to hurt someone like that.> > > > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but > I > > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > > > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role > in > > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each > > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to

> protect > > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's > hand > > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > > haunt me to this day.> > > > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my > mother > > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand > as > > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for > someone > > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, > abusive > > mother left me forever changed.> > > > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic > past. > > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught > me > > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > > make friends so

easily. She has always been such a loving mother > to > > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she > offered > > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect > for > > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and > strong--> > looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he > is > > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling > me > > about it.> > > > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the

> > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > > disease.> > > > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last > night > > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He > > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you > can > > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > > > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > > such deep pain.> > > > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for > support > > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > > > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via > email, > > satisfy at a

deeper and more meaningful level.> > > > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful > newbies. > > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > > more). We're all here for each other.> > > > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out > the > > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > > > Francisco> >> > > > > > >

[Guest guest]

I'm glad they helped, my friend. I hope tha tthis chapter in your life ends happily... Robynnmanisodream wrote: Robynn:Your words are of great comfort to me. You are amazing. Thanks so much for your support.Francisco> >> > Hello everyone:> > > > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away > by > > the police after an argument with my father.> > > > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > > > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did > last > > night.> > > > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so > > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love > her > > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her > doze > > off as I rubbed her

feet.> > > > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me > yesterday > > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to > > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > > eternity with her."> > > > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my > mother. > > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I > love, > > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > > much to hurt someone like that.> > > > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things

were different, but > I > > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > > > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role > in > > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each > > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to > protect > > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's > hand > > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > > haunt me to this day.> > > > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my > mother > > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand > as > > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for > someone > > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic,

> abusive > > mother left me forever changed.> > > > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic > past. > > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught > me > > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > > make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother > to > > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she > offered > > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect > for > > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and > strong-->

> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he > is > > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling > me > > about it.> > > > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > > disease.> > > > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last > night > > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He > > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you > can > > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > > > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > > such deep

pain.> > > > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for > support > > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > > > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via > email, > > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > > > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful > newbies. > > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > > more). We're all here for each other.> > > > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out > the > > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > > > Francisco> >> > > > > > >

[Guest guest]

Thanks Donna...I've often wondered what it must feel like to be you. I am proud of you for the steps you've taken recently. They are tough, I can only imagine...but it sounds like something you really need to do for yourself. big hugs, Robynn Donna Jordon wrote: Robynn You said this so true, I am going to hug you for all the insight someday when I meet you. Francisco listen to this lady, she sure knows what shes talking about. Thank you both for all the wonderful words of wisdom and the amazing insight. Take care. DonnaRobynn VanPatten wrote: Francisco... I think your dad, who no doubt has his own problems, is probably exhausted from living with somebody who is mentally ill. That is a very very hard road, as Donna can attest. The person who is ill, whether it be mentally or physically, gets all of the attention...and the family structure necessarily revolves around that person. If you've ever seen Bradshaw, who speaks about "shame", he uses a very effective tool to demonstrate this. He uses one of those mobiles, you know...the type that hangs over a baby's crib. He shows that if you move one piece of the mobile, all of the other pieces alter their movement to conform with the moving piece. That person drives the path that the family structure takes. ANd it affects every other piece in a different way. It's hard to be patient, and it's hard to always do

the right thing. Everyone reacts differently to that kind of stress. And it's hard to have somebody's bad behaviour always be justified because that person is "ill". I think that mental illness is the hardest thing to handle, because it is a normal reaction to believe on some level that the person who is ill can somehow control it. Control the behaviour. It takes a special person to maintain constant compassion, and to realize that the illness is really the thing dictating the behaviour. And you are a special person. It could be that he is lashing out at you, and made that comment, because he feels that he falls short. That he fails as a spouse, and that, in some ways, she finds more comfort in you than in him. There could be a bit of a father/son competition that is going on...without you even being cognizant of it. Maybe he isn't even consciously aware of it. Additionally, many times people resent others who are able to rise above their own selfishness. Because, it is like a mirror, isn't it? you see your own failures and shortcomings in the reflection..because you compare your own reactions to those who are reacting in a more unselfish manner. And to be perfectly fair to your father...while her illness has had a horrible impact on you all...you guys can walk away to some degree. You can live in a separate house, and find your emotional fulfillment with Steve and others. If he sought other company, he'd be a bad guy. If he left the house, he'd be a bad guy. So, it's like he's stuck, doing the best he can, and really getting very little back...and it's exhausting. And when he loses his patience, or he thinks about leaving...he has to feel awful and guilty and then ultimately, he starts to question whether he's entitled to any happiness. He sees you, his son, finding health and happiness...and finding this compassion for her...and he probably feels torn between his pride and happiness for you...and jealousy. Jealous because you have the promise of a better life than he has. It was bad to say it, and I know it hurt you. But you said he really isn't a bad guy...and so I imagine he's just tired and hopeless...and he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. And...you know...sometimes kids come waltzing in (not saying you did that, but that may be how he perceives it) and try to take over as the spouse or parent figure. He lives this reality day in and day out as the partner of somebody who is ill...and I imagine that it's easy for him to feel angry and defensive, to the extent that he may perceive that you and your siblings are overly protective of your mother...and not overly compassionate to him. So...I guess all I can

say that might help you ultimately let go of the hurt and disappointement is try and channel into your compassion for him and his situation. By so doing, you may not feel the barbs of his comment as strongly, because you'll get that it isn't really about you. And while, as children, you can't choose yoiur parents...and he, of course, chose his spouse, so it may seem like he deserves less compassion for his injuries than the children of that marriage deserve...I think I remember that you were raised Catholic, and your parents are from cultures where divorce is not an option. So, even though he made his choice, and so...in a way, he had more control over his destiny with your mother than you did...one can certainly admire him for sticking to that decision...and one can understand why sometimes he is very angry and why he feels sorry for himself for the lot he has undertaken. I'm

sure your mother is wonderful in many, many ways. But a person who is mentally ill is simply not capable of being an equal partner in a marriage. Things wind up revolving around her, her needs, her limitations, her capabilities. That doesn't leave a lot of room for his needs. And he's expected not to really have any limitations...because he has to be strong for her. that's got to be a tough tough thing. You are a compassionate soul, my friend. I'm glad you are there for your mom. You can be there for her as a relief pitcher...because your dad's arm is tired, and his aim isn't as true right now. Good luck, my friend. Kisses on your wounded heart. RobynnLilka wrote: Francisco, I am so overwhelmed

with your message. What can make a person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It is something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love than with the anger. Your father actually told you what he said. That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action. Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka>> Hello everyone:> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away by > the police after an argument with my father.> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last > night.> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze > off as I rubbed her feet.> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He

told me that he said to > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > eternity with her."> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > much to hurt someone like that.> > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in > their relationship. They both can be verbally

abusive of each > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > haunt me to this day.> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive > mother left me forever changed.> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > make friends so easily. She has

always been such a loving mother to > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me > about it.> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > disease.> > I'm looking

forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > such deep pain.> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > more). We're all

here for each other.> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > Francisco>Donna JordonDSJordon@... Yahoo! MailBring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze.

[Guest guest]

Robynn Both my boys have taken all the Psych majors, it's so wonderful they understand all this. That's why they are so understanding and supportive to me, and still even with my husband's illness have so much respect for him no matter how he acts out. They understand it's not all meant to be and that deep down on good days he's such a sensitive and caring man. This has helped them keep a strong bond. So Francisco try to look beyond when your father acts up. He is your father and will never be able to be replaced, this is what I tell my boys. Take care. DonnaRobynn VanPatten wrote: Thank you for th ekind owrds. I've lived through some of my own difficulties, and have done a lot of exploration....so, I guess that's where the words come from... I'm jealous of your training. Psychology was a field I seriously considered for a long time, but getting into Psych 101 at Berkeley was nearly impossible, and it was the building block requirement for all of the other psych classes...and so, my path went a different direction.... RobynnLilka wrote: Robynn, you are just awesome. With all my years of psychology and therapy, I could not have written this. I am overwhelmed by you. I hope Francisco appreciates your words as much as I do. Love to you, Lilka> >> > Hello everyone:> > > > My mom was taken to the hospital last night. She was taken away > by > > the police after an argument with my father.> > > > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > > > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did > last > > night.> > > > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to

see her that way--so > > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love > her > > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her > doze > > off as I rubbed her feet.> > > > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me > yesterday > > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to > > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > > your ashes in with your mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > > eternity with her."> > > > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my > mother. > > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I > love, > > but that's just me. I'm

much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > > much to hurt someone like that.> > > > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but > I > > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > > > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role > in > > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each > > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to > protect > > my sanity. The memories I have as a child, holding my mother's > hand > > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > > haunt me to this day.> > > >

The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my > mother > > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand > as > > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for > someone > > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, > abusive > > mother left me forever changed.> > > > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic > past. > > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught > me > > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > > make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother > to > > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she > offered > > me unconditional love, as she always had. > > > > I started

to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect > for > > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and > strong--> > looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he > is > > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling > me > > about it.> > > > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > > disease.> > > > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last > night > > on the phone, and he was so

sympathetic and comforting. He > > said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you > can > > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > > > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > > such deep pain.> > > > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for > support > > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > > > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via > email, > > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > > > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful > newbies. > > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > > more). We're

all here for each other.> > > > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out > the > > old demons and move on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > > > Francisco> >> > > > > > >

[Guest guest]

Robynn You know how tough it was for you to leave Steve. Well think about feeling bad because he has mental illness which wasn't there when you married and has gotten worse through the years. Then to wonder will he be all right, able to handle all he needs to and on and on. It's very very tough, but I will make sure life isn't bad. We have friends right down the road from his new house, and many of our friends here are looking forward to going up to the beautiful place enjoying fishing and all with him. I think this is good for all of us, but a very had thing to do. Thank you again sweety. Take care. DonnaRobynn VanPatten wrote: Thanks Donna...I've often wondered what it must feel like to be you. I am proud of you for the steps you've taken

recently. They are tough, I can only imagine...but it sounds like something you really need to do for yourself. big hugs, Robynn Donna Jordon wrote: Robynn You said this so true, I am going to hug you for all the insight someday when I meet you. Francisco listen to this lady, she sure knows what shes talking about. Thank you both for all the wonderful words of wisdom and the amazing insight. Take care. DonnaRobynn VanPatten wrote: Francisco... I think your dad, who no doubt has his own problems, is

probably exhausted from living with somebody who is mentally ill. That is a very very hard road, as Donna can attest. The person who is ill, whether it be mentally or physically, gets all of the attention...and the family structure necessarily revolves around that person. If you've ever seen Bradshaw, who speaks about "shame", he uses a very effective tool to demonstrate this. He uses one of those mobiles, you know...the type that hangs over a baby's crib. He shows that if you move one piece of the mobile, all of the other pieces alter their movement to conform with the moving piece. That person drives the path that the family structure takes. ANd it affects every other piece in a different way. It's hard to be patient, and it's hard to always do the right thing. Everyone reacts differently to that kind of stress. And it's hard to have

somebody's bad behaviour always be justified because that person is "ill". I think that mental illness is the hardest thing to handle, because it is a normal reaction to believe on some level that the person who is ill can somehow control it. Control the behaviour. It takes a special person to maintain constant compassion, and to realize that the illness is really the thing dictating the behaviour. And you are a special person. It could be that he is lashing out at you, and made that comment, because he feels that he falls short. That he fails as a spouse, and that, in some ways, she finds more comfort in you than in him. There could be a bit of a father/son competition that is going on...without you even being cognizant of it. Maybe he isn't even consciously aware of it. Additionally, many times people resent others who are able to rise above their own selfishness. Because,

it is like a mirror, isn't it? you see your own failures and shortcomings in the reflection..because you compare your own reactions to those who are reacting in a more unselfish manner. And to be perfectly fair to your father...while her illness has had a horrible impact on you all...you guys can walk away to some degree. You can live in a separate house, and find your emotional fulfillment with Steve and others. If he sought other company, he'd be a bad guy. If he left the house, he'd be a bad guy. So, it's like he's stuck, doing the best he can, and really getting very little back...and it's exhausting. And when he loses his patience, or he thinks about leaving...he has to feel awful and guilty and then ultimately, he starts to question whether he's entitled to any happiness. He sees you, his son, finding health and happiness...and finding this compassion for her...and he probably

feels torn between his pride and happiness for you...and jealousy. Jealous because you have the promise of a better life than he has. It was bad to say it, and I know it hurt you. But you said he really isn't a bad guy...and so I imagine he's just tired and hopeless...and he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. And...you know...sometimes kids come waltzing in (not saying you did that, but that may be how he perceives it) and try to take over as the spouse or parent figure. He lives this reality day in and day out as the partner of somebody who is ill...and I imagine that it's easy for him to feel angry and defensive, to the extent that he may perceive that you and your siblings are overly protective of your mother...and not overly compassionate to him. So...I guess all I can say that might help you ultimately let go of the hurt and disappointement is try and channel into

your compassion for him and his situation. By so doing, you may not feel the barbs of his comment as strongly, because you'll get that it isn't really about you. And while, as children, you can't choose yoiur parents...and he, of course, chose his spouse, so it may seem like he deserves less compassion for his injuries than the children of that marriage deserve...I think I remember that you were raised Catholic, and your parents are from cultures where divorce is not an option. So, even though he made his choice, and so...in a way, he had more control over his destiny with your mother than you did...one can certainly admire him for sticking to that decision...and one can understand why sometimes he is very angry and why he feels sorry for himself for the lot he has undertaken. I'm sure your mother is wonderful in many, many ways. But a person who is mentally ill is simply not capable of

being an equal partner in a marriage. Things wind up revolving around her, her needs, her limitations, her capabilities. That doesn't leave a lot of room for his needs. And he's expected not to really have any limitations...because he has to be strong for her. that's got to be a tough tough thing. You are a compassionate soul, my friend. I'm glad you are there for your mom. You can be there for her as a relief pitcher...because your dad's arm is tired, and his aim isn't as true right now. Good luck, my friend. Kisses on your wounded heart. RobynnLilka wrote: Francisco, I am so overwhelmed with your message. What can make a person want to be so mean? I know they don't want to be so mean. It is

something angry inside of them that hits out. I have been mean in my life sometimes. I always hate it. I sound so harsh and hard when I am really like a marshmellow. I have been better in the last years after so much anger was let go but I know I can be mean sometimes and I always regret it. We must all try to connect more with love than with the anger. Your father actually told you what he said. That is amazing and I don't know what he wanted from that action. Did he want to release his guilt? Did he want you to know how cruel he could be? I think he was overwhelmed with remourse and had to let it go but he did not need to do it to you. Too bad he does not have a support system and I'm just glad you do. With love, Lilka>> Hello everyone:> > My mom was taken to the hospital last night.

She was taken away by > the police after an argument with my father.> > She is in the mental hospital, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all.> > My father and brother (who's mental illness is controlled by heavy > medication) have not gone to see her in the hospital, but I did last > night.> > She's OK, I guess, but it breaks my heart to see her that way--so > tiny, so vulnerable. I just took her in my arms, trying to love her > as much as I could as if the love in my heart were enough to take > away all her pain. I let her sit back for a while, watching her doze > off as I rubbed her feet.> > My father can be so emotionally abusive to her. He told me yesterday > that sometimes he gets so mad at her. He told me that he said to > her, "If you [referring to my mom] die before me, I'll just shove > your ashes in with your

mother [my grandmother], and you can spend > eternity with her."> > I can't believe my father would say something so cruel to my mother. > I would be incapable of saying something like that to someone I love, > but that's just me. I'm much too sensitive. It would hurt me too > much to hurt someone like that.> > My mother's mother was very abusive and caused my mother to have a > very traumatic childhood. But my father isn't all bad. His > childhood was no picnic either. I wish things were different, but I > can't force my parents to treat each other with loving kindness.> > Nothing is black and white. Both my mother and father play a role in > their relationship. They both can be verbally abusive of each > other. That is why I keep a distance from them. I have to protect > my sanity. The

memories I have as a child, holding my mother's hand > in a mental hospital (while my father and brother had gone home) > haunt me to this day.> > The seering pain coupled with utter powerlessness to help my mother > was hard to bear as an eight-year old. Holding my mother's hand as > she wandering aimlessly in that mental hospital, looking for someone > to help her, to ease all the wounds inflicted by her alcolic, abusive > mother left me forever changed.> > My mother is an incredibly loving person despite her traumatic past. > I have seen such beauty in the world through her eyes. She taught me > love of art, music and dance. She sees the good in people and can > make friends so easily. She has always been such a loving mother to > me. She was the first person who I told I was gay, and she offered > me

unconditional love, as she always had. > > I started to cry when my father told me that he said that to my > mother. I think my reaction surprised him. But out of respect for > him, I didn't tell him how I felt. There was a sort of unspoken, > heart-wrenching sorrow I felt, as my father--once to big and strong--> looked to old, small and pitiful as he ate his lunch. I know he is > sorry that he said that to my mother. That's why he was telling me > about it.> > I'm rambling. Thank God Steve is back in San Francisco. We're > spending the rest of the day together. His son will be in the > hospital for 6 months recovering from another bout with Crohn's > disease.> > I'm looking forward to the respite of his arms. We talked last night > on the phone, and he was so sympathetic and comforting. He

> said, "I'm here for you. Tell me as much as you need to so you can > get it out." I'm happy that I can be of some comfort to him too.> > It's amazing how resorative a simple hug can be. A touch can ease > such deep pain.> > While I may have my challenges, like we all do, thank God for support > of people like Steve, and like all of you.> > I can no longer depend on my old anesthesia of food to deaden the > pain. But crying is OK. And hugs, whether in person or via email, > satisfy at a deeper and more meaningful level.> > Hugs to you all. Welcome to the other side you wonderful newbies. > And strength to all of you who still struggle with the 10% (or > more). We're all here for each other.> > We are so blessed to have this virtual space where we can let out the > old demons and move

on with life, no longer using food as a crutch.> > Francisco>Donna JordonDSJordon@... Yahoo! MailBring photos to life! New PhotoMail makes sharing a breeze. Donna JordonDSJordon@...

Yahoo! Mail Use Photomail to share photos without annoying attachments.