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Archive for the ‘What “Tough Love” is all About.’ Category

"The results of not practicing Tough Love"

“The results of not practicing Tough Love”

Earlier in my life in a previous marriage I became a step-father to three children.  When I married their Mother, the youngest boy was age six named _ _ _ _.   _ _ _ _ was both a druggie, thief and mentally unbalanced.  I suspect the mental problems came from his Father at his own birth since his real Father died of a drug overdose

The boy for fourteen years of that marriage brought me nothing but pain and grief each day of that marriage.  When it came to choosing between me or him by now my ex-wife of more than thirty years ago, she choose him.  He destroyed her life both from a mental point of view beside a financial one. 

Today my ex lives in the same now broken down home because of this boy who today in his late forties has been in and out of prison and more than likely is living with her.  His life and her life are a great example of what “Tough Love” and its lack of on her part, is all about.  The following poem is on the first page of my first published poetry book.

 

The house was saddened.
Though occupied it appeared not.
The uncut hedge nearest the street
rose to a height of many feet.
 
The brushes around the house
had not been trimmed in close to a year.
Amidst peeling paint
and wild dandelions in the yard
was a yearning for love
which the house received
year’s past.
 
Inside the home pale and yellowed walls reflected
the internal sickness that destroyed the love
of its adult inhabitants.
 
A sickness born of a young mind
bounded by the disciplines of evil in his youth.
Torn wallpaper marked the first surrender
of this youth’s mother
to a childish whim in year’s past.
 
Pride departed
now shown in the dishes and pots
piled on the kitchen sink
with crusted leftovers
from last week.
  
The curtains were partly open
from a previous night
not for the sun of day
but a beacon to unwelcomed intruders
of night by the youth of the house.
 
The smell of evil engulfed the house.
A pungent sickly odor exhaled by the youth
of the house which brought the gaze
of forgetfulness to the point of nowhere.
 
He sat proudly overseeing his domain.
His position secure to sleep
to play to reach new highs
in his world of bright lights
and swirling thoughts.
 
He had won.
He now had his mother
his protector and provider
all to himself.
 
The man of the house
which became no one
departed with his things.
 
The youth laughed
and laughed
in sheer joy
at his victory.  
 

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"The results of not practicing Tough Love"

“The results of not practicing Tough Love”

Earlier in my life in a previous marriage I became a step-father to three children.  When I married their Mother, the youngest boy was age six named _ _ _ _ _.  _ _ _ _ _ _ was both a druggie, thief and mentally unbalanced.  I suspect the mental problems came from his Father at his own birth since his real Father died of a drug overdose.  The boy for fourteen years of that marriage brought me nothing but pain and grief each day of that marriage.  When it came to choosing between me or him by now my ex-wife of more than thirty years ago, she choose him.  He destroyed her life both from a mental point of view beside a financial one.  Today my ex lives in the same now broken down home because of this boy who today in his late forties has been in and out of prison and more than likely is living with her.  His life and her life are a great example of what “Tough Love” and its lack of on her part, is all about.  The following poem is on the first page of my first published poetry book.

 

The house was saddened.
Though occupied it appeared not.
The uncut hedge nearest the street
rose to a height of many feet.
 
The brushes around the house
had not been trimmed in close to a year.
Amidst peeling paint
and wild dandelions in the yard
was a yearning for love
which the house received
year’s past.
 
Inside the home pale and yellowed walls reflected
the internal sickness that destroyed the love
of its adult inhabitants.
 
A sickness born of a young mind
bounded by the disciplines of evil in his youth.
Torn wallpaper marked the first surrender
of this youth’s mother
to a childish whim in year’s past.
 
Pride departed
now shown in the dishes and pots
piled on the kitchen sink
with crusted leftovers
from last week.
  
The curtains were partly open
from a previous night
not for the sun of day
but a beacon to unwelcomed intruders
of night by the youth of the house.
 
The smell of evil engulfed the house.
A pungent sickly odor exhaled by the youth
of the house which brought the gaze
of forgetfulness to the point of nowhere.
 
He sat proudly overseeing his domain.
His position secure to sleep
to play to reach new highs
in his world of bright lights
and swirling thoughts.
 
He had won.
He now had his mother
his protector and provider
all to himself.
 
The man of the house
which became no one
departed with his things.
 
The youth laughed
and laughed
in sheer joy
at his victory.  
 

Read Full Post »