For what it's worth, when I am feeling doomed to be a bad mother and that my children are doomed to coping with me, my psychiatrist--who has met them, talked with them, and sees them about every six months--reminds me that it is a very, very good thing for children to learn that the world is difficult but that it is also full of joy; and he reminds me that he has told them this, that they are resilient--as are most children--and that forgiveness is the most complete within a family. He reminds me, too, that even if they harp on certain incidents that it is because they are working something out, that it is not about me. Certainly it is my job to help them and to be supportive, but it is not useful (hahaha) for me to become upset by the memory. Instead, I should try to understand what it means for them and how we can grow from it by pointing to improvement, new skills we've learned, and their strength in facing it. Our house is full of love and laughter now, even with the horrifying memories. My kids are 11 and 14. It's taken awhile, and we have been extremely lucky to have steady support, and that no one gave up. I don't work any more, which was a huge decision, and has been very scary--especially now, in this economy--but it was quite clear that I could not manage the chaos of my emotions (which I hid and brought home, of course, for as long as I could) and be a good mother.
I have lost a lot, in terms of my own lucrative and stable career. And I have had to accept a tremendous amount of help from people I do not like. But my children needed this added support, and when you have children, I believe they are the primary responsibility in your life. I wonder if this hasn't been the core of much of my "recovery"? Surely, it has been...