Relationships & Acceptance

For any relationship of any kind to be healthy and flourish, you have to be able to be yourself – safely – with the other person. This means, acceptance. Accepting someone for who they are is as loving (and reassuring) as it gets.

Yes, there us compromise in any relationship. One likes Crest, the other, Colgate. Fine. Get both. One likes the toilet paper coming over the top of the roll, the other from underneath the roll. Fine, whoever puts the toilet paper on the roller puts it the way they like it.

Giving up parts of who you are is another story altogether. If someone asked me to stop reading, or, “For the love of God, Peter, spare us all and please stop writing!” Well, that’s not going to happen.

Remember, you love someone because they are who they are. 

And yes, there are difficult and dangerous realities some must content with.If someone is an active alcoholic or addict (I repeat myself), accepting the presence of that reality does not mean you support its presence. It does mean you can say, if you are not going to take care of you, then I need to disengage from you, as long as that destruction is present. Though it may be hard to see and digest at the time, it is the most loving choice. 

Taking care of yourself is not an act of disloyalty to anyone else.

Dusty stones: Notes on my mother’s suicide

30 Years Ago Today.

Peter Sanford Kahrmann's avatarPeter S. Kahrmann - Est. 1953

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On this day my mother ended her life in 1992.

What do I say? I watch the words hit the page this morning and I know if I charted the distance between them and the pulverizing impact of her suicide it would take more than a millennium to cross the divide.

The facts of it all sit like dusty stones – cold, and hauntingly still. It was the second time in the span of a year that she talked of ending her life. We had intervened the first time, and, for the moment, succeeded, at what I wonder. It only delayed the inevitable and in the days after her death, I would learn from her oldest friends that she had been talking about suicide since I was a boy. What had it been like for my father? I can’t imagine.

She called me Sunday August 9 to…

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