A Letter to My Sons
To My Darling Sons, It hurts knowing how I burden you daily with my deep seeded angst from having come from the family, which I do. And yet, I cannot…
To My Darling Sons, It hurts knowing how I burden you daily with my deep seeded angst from having come from the family, which I do. And yet, I cannot…
Sound familiar? So, this is my modified version of the Narcissists Prayer. I have re-evaluated my need to label others as addicts or narcissists. In my attempt to recover, I found myself needing to know “but whyyyyy???” And the singular answer of “because I suck” is no longer acceptable to me. My upbringing taught me over decades of collective attitudes and actions, that any harsh treatment of me was either →imagined →fabricated, or →well earned. And that is 100% deranged and untrue. AND–It stands to reason that if I am willing to believe I can earn abuse or cause someone else to mistreat me, you know what else I believe…that another person may earn abuse or cause me to mistreat them.
Is it unreasonable to wish for a mother who would not contribute to or support initiatives that are guaranteed to escalate tension between her grandsons' parents? IS IT? I knew…
Last night, Bryan Adams' song "Best Days of Our Lives" played on the radio. For a moment I felt nostalgic, reminded of senior year, summer in particular where we were…