Awareness

I know that this is exactly what my Father did, and he would say "Why can't you listen to me. I know what's best. I've been there."

and I would say to him "You have to let me make my own mistakes. I have to learn this on my own." We would stand toe to toe. It was a difficult time. He hated my moving out, and I hated all his rules.

I've never understood the 11pm curfew. Here I was going to College and they wanted me home by 11pm, which was the same curfew I had in High School. There was no change for the fact that I had been in dorm living away from them for a year, and I had had a 2am curfew. Not that I utilized it much. Given my choice, and this is the crux, I CHOSE to come in earlier. But when he would demand it, I rebelled.

The lack of trust on their part, their belief that I was stupid, and that I would automatically make the bad choice was so angering to me! I still recall it. In Europe the standards were so different. We were in Greece, and my cousin wanted to take me dancing. Male cousin. He asked my father's permission, which thrilled him, and promised to have me home by 4am. Dad about keeled over! 4am? Sure. The discos didn't even get going until midnight. There the assumption was we were going to dance! And we did.

Why do we think because they are young, they are stupid? We weren't. And I know many many stupid adults. The only difference is chronological age, and that has nothing to do with maturity. How many of us have talked about raising our children? And my own mother said I was older than her. That I was her mother at times.

Maybe I am too sympathetic to this. I'm walking a fine line. While they are here, they aren't my kids, and yet they are under my roof. Are they guests or are they members of the family, or are they simply visitors passing through? My job is to create safety. I can't enable, but I can give them a respite. I can hold safe space. I can be here, present. I am aware that they are trying to be unobtrusive, noninvasive. I am also aware that they feel tentative. Concerned that they will be thrown out at the slightest provocation.

I also don't have permission to do more than offer readings and direction through such. A few moments in the long run-not alot of time to make an impact.

While my father screamed and yelled and threatened, I also knew he loved me. I was never hit. While he was bipolar and manic at times, my mother was pretty stable. She would disappear behind books, make herself invisible and my way of coping was to be home as little as possible. I threw myself into every activity. These kids retreat in other ways but it's the same bottom line-escape to make it more bearable.

Hours and days of video games. Numbing trance out to forget what is going on. Be not here.
So, how do they flip the switch and come back to life?
Sleeping beauties in the castle and I'm the prince wandering around stepping over the dead bodies. It's back to my original shamanic dream when I rubbed her cheek and said "you can wake up now".

Wake up-it's safe. Wake up-it's time. We're here now.
Like when the kids would fall asleep in the back seat on the way somewhere...