I posted this in psychotherapy and thought I would post it here as well.

A parent is supposed to offer a child unconditional love. This love forms the basis for my parenting of my own children. Despite all of the times I wanted to tear my hair out, through toddler temper tantrums, vomiting and fevers in the middle of the night when I had to get up for work and teenage mischief, I loved them underneath it all. There are times when I felt desperate in my capacity to provide this because of the void in my own parenting. So, I turned to professionals and took parenting workshops, consulted with child psychologists, etc.

My mother was very disconnected and until I had children of my own, I never measured up in her eyes. She adored her grandchildren and they benefitted from this love. I realize that my children are my connection to my mother, and when two of my sons suffered devastating illness, my panic was, not only my fear of losing them, but my fear of losing her. (This, even though she was already dead when they became ill.)

So, I ask me, how does T fit in to all of this? Because without my relationship with him I would not have arrived at this point of self knowledge.

I think the recent ruptures, the rage I spewed at him and his relative calm throughout have given me the unconditional love I crave. That, despite my tantrums (and I said a lot of really awful things to him that I cringe at now) he didn't flinch. He didn't bend on his position either, but he didn't reject me, dismiss me, chastise me, or say anything negative in any way. He said he felt bad that I was suffering and in so much pain. I didn't believe him until now. Can I possibly hold onto this until the morning?

Whoa. Sometimes I feel like Eliza Dolittle. By george, she's got it!

Peace