Just a comment on estranged children “doing the work”
It doesn’t necessarily mean the outcome will be a desire to reconnect.
I was lucky. Forgiveness, when it came, was effortless. And, annoyingly enough, every bit as freeing as people had told me it would be.
But the 40 year old “black hole of pain” in my solar plexus remained. And I was so damn tired of carrying it 24/7.
So I “did the work”. Again, I was lucky, good match with the coach. It was fast and did not involve me having to pick at old scabs. The pain lifted and the gratitude I feel for the peace I acquired is felt every single day.
But all the work was to help me live better so I could let go of myself as the child in the equation. And focus entirely on being the parent, without the ghost of the broken girl I was lurking in the shadows all the time.
There was always the possibility that “doing the work” might open a path to reunification. But, for me, it did not. I need this peace like I need air. I can’t risk human fallibility (including my own) sending me back into the prison of pain I’d spent most of my life in. Not now I know what it’s like out in the sun.
I can’t risk any backward motion, not as a parent, not as the child I used to be.
Just like “Sorry!” doesn’t make a dead man alive, “doing the work” doesn’t magic a shiney new bridge in place of the one that got burned down.