My mother-in-law raised a son, an angry son at that. Whatever happened to cause it, doesn't much matter anymore, not only because his life is over, but because somewhere along the line he chose not to keep that anger on his top priority list. It was then I came into his life. Creating a *different* experience for his children was on that list. We knew, together, we would buck our systems of origin and create our own family experiences from within ourselves. We liked ourselves, we were grateful for who we were out of those life experiences. Revision of method is not rejection of love or gratitude. I have a son. I have an angry son of an angry son. Completely different upbringing than his dad and here we are. I've got more in common with Mimi than our shell seems to show; probably more than we want to acknowledge. I want my son to have room for his anger; to have the place of acceptance for whatever it is he needs to experience to get through his own life. I'll meet his anger with love. Being angry at or about his anger is merely fuel on the fire.
...to be continued.
...to be continued.
1 comment:
I am the mother of an angry daughter who is the daughter of an angry daughter. Today, in a moment of fiery red anger accompanied with tears she screamed at her dad that he was the worst dad in the world and then two heartbeats later said sometimes. That sometimes was never in my angry daughter's frustrated shouts of death to all and I hate you all and if I died you'd miss me. The sometimes is a really important generational change.
Schuyler
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