thanks TJP. It feels so nice to be in someones prayers
I have to admit, this problem is bigger than I even realize.
I was thinking today, how everyone is saying, have boundaries.
I was trying to think about what my life as an ACOA set me up for this situation. Maybe my ways set my son up in his situation.
as a child, there were no boundaries. there was no respect for each other. as children, we sisters fought and there was very unhealthy rivalry, and abuse.
no one ever said"Hey, I am a person here, and no one should treat me this way".
no one had self respect. I did not learn what that was, and am learning to this day.
we took the behavior as normal, i did not understand, nor did anyone help me with it. We were like a bunch of animals fighting, and no one to stop us, or teach us better.
i enabled my mom, for I felt so sad to see her miserable, and would go for her beer.
it was the only thing that gave her peace, and we knew nothing about recovery.
her doctor prescribed tons of meds-tylenol with codeine, anti-depressants, xanax, many others. after she died , we saw a printout of what she had access to, and we were horrified. thought of going after her doctor, to make him answer to it, but he was a small town "god-quack", and it was not worth it, she was gone. she did it to herself, but she probably had no idea of recovery either.
she did quit when she lost her kidney,after we had turned away from her, could not stand to see her that way. she did find a spirituality that comforted her, and we tried to be near her, but we were so angry and turned off by her neediness , and the fact that she would say "I am not responsible for the mistakes you kids make", which is true, but she did not address the pitiful mess that was our lives. she had a bit of counselling, and they told her that she was not to blame for our messes. which is true, i have never blamed her.
i think that I dont even realize the awfulness of it. it was just normal for us. i had shame, and still do. I could be driving a lexus, and still feel like that poor girl who lived in the yukky house, with crummy clothes. Funny tho, I always thought that I was not poor, that i had class, and that i was only in those crummy clothes by some mistake.
I think my problem may lie in a false idea that I have had forever- that somewhere there is a happy ending. That there is going to be an end to the struggle. that there is going to be a time when i can let go, and relax. that somewhere, someday there is going to be a rescue.
How can I be 58 and not know what normal is?
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