It's very difficult not knowing what's happening with my adult child, where he is, what he's doing, whether he is safe or getting help or destroying someone else's life.
I have been in a deep depression the past several days, trying desparately to rid myself of this need to be his mother. He does not want me. He violently does not want me. It shreds my soul to know this. I don't know if I can actually ever let go.
"Hee-nay-nee" - I am here.
"Teeferret" is the balance of loving-kindness and the strength of boundaries. How do I have both compassion for him and compassion for myself? How do I decide where to place the boundaries in how much I allow his crazy into my life? Is there any way to be there for an adult child who so desparately wants me NOT in his life? Who honestly desparately wants me to be not in any life at all, not even my own.
From Rabbi Brielle's Psalms..."I will not say anything to myself in private that would tear down a friend if said in public.... Choose a path true to ones own self.... Reject self-hatred."
Reject self-hatred.
Reject self-hatred.
How is that possible? When I have so clearly failed as a mother. When my one true planned purpose has not been met with success. With anything but success.
"Emerging from the fire, I recalibrate my path."
I need to recalibrate my path away from trying to control what I have no way to even comprehend. The fire he stokes with every word and every breath never leaves my being. I am burning with tears that encourage his flames to burn higher and stronger throughout my soul.
"Own who you are in an honest and integrated way that expresses your beauty."
How can I find and express inner-beauty when all I can do with every drop of my everything is to try not to die?
"Teeferret" -the balance of loving-kindness and boundaries. He will neither accept nor give love. All that's left is boundaries, all he knows from me is boundaries, that is not what being a mother is all about, but it's all I get. It's not fair. I want so much more.
I remember when he was little. Yes, he screamed a lot. He slept very little. He tantrummed for hours at a time. But every now and then, here and there, occassionally, he would love me and he would allow me to love him. I miss that sometimes child who let me be a mother and not just a jailer. The child, who, expelled from yet another preschool or kindergarten is attending college classes with me, listening enraptured to the Chair of the Physics Department, illustrating his explanations of rocket mechanics with your markers, getting up on the auditorium stage, explaining with your pictures to the hundreds of freshmen exactly what they didn't seem able to understand.
"A life established seemingly in opposition to itself."
So much potential. Why couldn't I reach it in you? Why couldn't I help you reach it in yourself? Why did you run from me or at me, and so rarely into my arms?
Why can't you just let me love you as every mother wants to love her child? I just want to love my child.
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