Guest guest Posted March 4, 2006 Report Share Posted March 4, 2006 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 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 4, 2006 Report Share Posted March 4, 2006 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 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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