Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Support Group
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Eldest son, 36, is still cycling in tight, unpredictable and often dangerous spirals. The Target of this cycle remains The Evil Ex who has long since run for the safety of The Toxic People Landfill, but. . . I still hold that human cycles can target anything. Keep your eye on the danger, not the target.
I have been able to remain pretty aloof during this round. So far. . . I have sustained some injuries, but I am not the target. I was able to set the safety perimeter fairly early in the cycle. Been riding the cycle since the classic onset of his Narcolepsy in Junior High School. We didn't have a scientific name for it until 1998, when he was 18. By then, he had legal rights to shut us out of the therapy and he has used that right with an 18 year old vengeance ever since. He is still using the same sleep doctor who diagnosed the Narcolepsy. We believe the doctor is more of a prescriber than a healer. Adderal, Ritalin and the like. We believe the amphetamines are more problem than solution at this point, but. . . It is not ours to sort. The man has been a legal adult more than half his life. Now for the self-sufficiency part. Our retirement planning didn't provide for multiple adult households.
He is currently homeless, unemployed and running out of people who want to hear another chapter in The Evil Ex Conspiracy before he gets around to whatever practical demand is on his list that day. Most often money. The fact that he is circling my barbed wire perimeter for that song and dance is what makes me think he is scraping the bottom of his empathy barrel. I gave him the cash I had in my wallet along with the now-standard "Need to Retire" lecture.
I still The Mama. I want to be supportive. How? Being supportive sure looks different on this side of the cycle.
Taking it play by play. Maybe just venting.
I have been able to remain pretty aloof during this round. So far. . . I have sustained some injuries, but I am not the target. I was able to set the safety perimeter fairly early in the cycle. Been riding the cycle since the classic onset of his Narcolepsy in Junior High School. We didn't have a scientific name for it until 1998, when he was 18. By then, he had legal rights to shut us out of the therapy and he has used that right with an 18 year old vengeance ever since. He is still using the same sleep doctor who diagnosed the Narcolepsy. We believe the doctor is more of a prescriber than a healer. Adderal, Ritalin and the like. We believe the amphetamines are more problem than solution at this point, but. . . It is not ours to sort. The man has been a legal adult more than half his life. Now for the self-sufficiency part. Our retirement planning didn't provide for multiple adult households.
He is currently homeless, unemployed and running out of people who want to hear another chapter in The Evil Ex Conspiracy before he gets around to whatever practical demand is on his list that day. Most often money. The fact that he is circling my barbed wire perimeter for that song and dance is what makes me think he is scraping the bottom of his empathy barrel. I gave him the cash I had in my wallet along with the now-standard "Need to Retire" lecture.
I still The Mama. I want to be supportive. How? Being supportive sure looks different on this side of the cycle.
Taking it play by play. Maybe just venting.
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I did the dumbest thing today. I charged my earbuds, unplugged the block and put the block in my little bag instead of the earbuds. I wasn't happy about that when I got to the gym. What a dummy!
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Ever since I stopped doing therapy because of insurance, I've been feeling that old tense and irritable sense of anxiety and stress. I hate that. I was making so many strides and changes during therapy, my therapist would acknowledge all of my progress and accomplishments, and I miss that reassurance. Today I thought about it, and I made those changes! She would always tell me that I chose to...
I did come to the bottom of my empathy barrel. It's a terrifying place. Bottoming out turned out to be good for me, as it does for many. Others crash, though, I'm aware. So the uncertainty has to be hard from your point of view as mom. Prayers he'll have courage to change when the bottom comes into view, arfie.
Agreed. Eye on the danger, not the target, and ... from the kid side? Thanks for caring.:-)
while frustrating,it must also be scary,and hurting your heart..
sending you strength,and hope for healing.
As I emptied the cash from my wallet yesterday, I had no doubt I was on the enabling side of that line. Listening to the break-up drama spiels? I feel downright pervy knowing some of these things about my middle-aged-children and their sex partners. When does an old mother get to declare, "More information than needed?" Are there things a parent should never know about their middle-aged-children? How much of a Toxic Mother am I for having PTSD flashbacks while listening to her son's latest fuck-buddy-break-up drama?
Yes, he knows I have PTSD. Proof of my toxicity. Professionally diagnosed and fair game for the Toxic People Dump fad that is all over the internet. Be sure they leave enough toxic cash before ya dump 'em.
Vent, vent. . . Gnarl gnash. . .
So far, my son is still "too good" for that kind of help. He still has family options which he is milking to the extreme.
The family therapy net is encouraging us to, "Get out of the way of his bottom." The consensus is that as long as we continue catching him, he will continue refusing to take responsibility for his own healing. More and more, we have no choice. Retirement realities are upon us. Money and physical abilities are running out.
I fear my son will be one of those homeless creeps in the hallway before it is done. Sorry he frightened you. It frightens me, too.
Prayer gives me something to do when there is nothing I can do. . .
Prayers in progress.