Live With No Regrets

It's been a wild week.  Quarter/Year End is over...and life can get back to normal.  Once, of course, my darling son kicks this fever in the ass.  Sigh.  I've been writing to P pretty much every day..learning more about his family--my family.  It seems like it's been more than a week since we started talking, but we're definitely taking our time.

We had messages flying back and forth last night and I realized just now that I missed the last one he'd sent after he'd started a fire in his fireplace.  I wanted to share it with all of you because, well, just because..lol.

Fire...check. I got my camera working, need to figure out how to broadcast. This weekend I get home around 7 pm so I'll be online after I walk the pooch.



We were talking a few weeks ago about the past year and that it was one of our best. And then you happened to me. I am so thankful, I can't tell you. I don't like to use the word regret because I believe you do the best you can with the available information you have at the time but I wish to God you and I could've connected before this. Everything happens for a reason so I don't question why. I think we will all be alright now...I pray for it.

And my response:

And I missed your message you had sent so I am sorry for not responding to it.

When C found me, my friends would ask me how I was feeling about it all. I finally was able to put it into words after a while. It was like a hole had been filled in my heart that I didn't even know was there. THAT is how I am feeling now, talking and connecting with you. We can't change the situation in the past...but we can move forward...together.


Holy sappy message Batman..lol.

I'm in awe of him.  And I'm in awe of the situation.

My Christmas Present

It was Friday afternoon, Christmas Eve, and I was walking around Target aimlessly looking for last minute stocking stuffers and presents.  My phone vibrated and I saw that my nmom had texted me. 

C: Has he written??

Me:  Nothing yet..

C:  Well he just wrote me on Facebook and said "Wish me luck, I'm going in.."

Me:

C:  Breathe

Me:  I'm in the middle of Target.  

C:  Lol.

Me:  OMG, I have to go home.

C:  Keep busy and BREATHE.  He's probably writing and rewriting his letter...

Me:  ::vomit::

C:  Lol.  Love you.  No matter what, I love you.

I went home and started putting together Chase's Zhu Zhu pets and their accompanying playsets.  Put on some Christmas music and got lost in the spirit.  Until my phone beeped with the notification that I had a Facebook message. 

My favorite Christmas present this year?  No...not an engagement ring. And my new silver earrings, personalized keychain and Kindle were pretty frigging sweet, but those weren't the presents that meant the most to me.

This was:


Hi Christina, I wouldn't call it a shock, more like a tsunami...HA! I am surprised, no denying it, not shocked though...I welcome this surprisingly peaceful news. Mostly I am happy and relieved that you and C are together with your gorgeous babies.



I talked about you with my wife M and she agreed that you and I should (re)connect. She is wonderful and at some point, with your permission, I'm sure you will hear from her as well. My road is a long and winding one and one that I look forward to sharing with you. M and I live in our new house on the family farm, though not really a farm. We grow veggies to put up each year and horses occupy some of the land. We moved here to help take care of M's parents when the time comes. I have three sons, C, who was adopted, M, who's in the Army, and D. C and D live in Virginia Beach. I have 2 lovely step-daughters A and L and they have tons of kids so "Poppee" is always busy when they visit.


This is a new start and one that I am looking forward to with much anticipation. I must now go and tend to the man stuff that goes with decorating for the family party later today. Merry Christmas Doll.

The Waiting Game...Again

I sent it.  I sent an email to P on Facebook.  Now I wait for him to reply.  Holy hell I'm in a fog...not an adoption fog...just a fog..lol.

Hi P,

I hope that some of the shock has worn off…I have to say that I’ve been in a bit of a daze the last few days myself. I have written and then rewritten this note to you a hundred times and am hoping that I can formulate complete sentences and thoughts this time.


The basics about me? I have two kids, a daughter Madelyn, who is 10 and a son Chase, who is 7. They are very active and quite the characters. I work as a Credit and Collections Analyst full time and have a long time boyfriend, Steven, who helps me with the kids and life in general..lol.


I’m really looking forward to getting to know you and hopefully exchange a few pictures since C has told me that we look a lot alike and that Madelyn in particular looks quite a bit like you as well.


In peace,
Christina

S.O.S.

For those of you who aren't my friends on Facebook or the forums, I have news.  Good news...fantastic news even!  My nfather wrote my mom.  He's in shock...but told her he's "definitely open to contact with our daughter".

So now, WHAT THE HELL DO I SAY TO HIM????  ::thud::  It was SO much easier being the "findee" and not the "finder".  I am not sure how brief or how wordy to get with the first email. 

I have no stinking clue what I'm doing and I'm panicking.  BIG TIME. 

I have no idea if his wife or step daughters know about me...and like C said, he might have "some 'splaining" to do.   I feel like a fish out of water and really need someone to slap me upside the head to restart my brain.

Yup, It's Quarter End

Work is kicking my ass.  Actually, that might be a good thing...it's taking me away from fretting and stressing out about the holidays.  I mean, I am still stressed out thinking about balancing my time and figuring out how I'm going to see everyone since the adoptive family isn't comfortable being in the same zip code  room as the natural family but it'll work out...somehow.

Maddie will be with her dad and Chase will be with his father from noon on Christmas Eve til 10am Christmas Day.  My friend at work was saying, "Oooh!  Christmas Eve with just you and Steven...maybe he'll pop the question!!".  My response?  "Bwhahahahahahahahahaha!!!". 

See, whether or not Steven and I get married tomorrow or the day after that or next month or within the next few years, he's my husband already.  In my heart.  Do we have a piece of paper that says that?  Nope.  But we work.  We fit.  We're happy.  And what puts the icing on the cake?  My kids adore him.  And I'm really okay not being married.  For God's sake, if we lived in a different state than Massachusetts that had Common Law marriages, we'd already be "hitched"...lol.

Don't get me wrong though...were Steven to ask me, I'd say yes.

Holy shizznit.  I'm tired and talking about marriage...I need sleep.

I promise that after this Quarter (and Year) end is over at work, I'll be back and better than ever.  For now, I'll leave you to guess.  Will he or won't he pop the question?  :)  Inquiring minds want to know!

Okay, Okay...I Get It *Updated*

Of course you're all right. I SHOULD be the one to contact my natural father.  I guess I let the shock of it all carry me along and I ignored the little voice in my head telling me the same thing.


I just emailed her and asked her to hold off on contacting him.
 
 
You know how we were talking about "Him" this weekend? And how you were going to write him?

If you haven't written him yet yourself, can you hold off? See, the thing is, for my whole life, I've let others do things for me...because there is less chance of getting in trouble if someone else takes the heat, you know?


But now, I feel like I'm supposed to contact him myself...to let the chips fall as they may. I'll let you read my email to him before I send it...but I really think it needs to be me to do the driving on this.


Does any of that make sense? I love you and don't want to offend you by even suggesting all of this but at some point, I need to step up and take the heat for myself :)

So now I'll wait to see what she says...but in the meantime, I'm going to start drafting a letter...to "Him".


Updated on 12/6/10:  Soooo, she had already written him.  And now feels lousy about it because she's afraid I'm mad.  I did tell her though that regardless of his response to her, I'm going to write him myself.

Dad?

My natural mom and sister came out to visit for the weekend and to see Maddie sing at the Holiday Stroll in town.  My sister ended up going out to see some of her friends in the area Friday night so my mother and I got a chance to talk.

C: I found him.  On Facebook.

Me: Him?  Who, my ex?  Yeah, I found him too..haha.

C:  No, HIM.  He's in North Carolina...married, looks like he has two step-daughters.

Me:  (shocked) 

C:  I wanted to tell you before I wrote him...to see what you thought.  To see if you WANTED me to write him.  I'm not sure what he'll say.  He might end up telling me to fuck off...but I'd rather he say that to me, than to you.

Me:  Makes sense.  I guess I'd just want him to know that I only want to talk to him if he wants to talk to me, you know?

C:  (hugging me)  I know.

She showed me his Facebook profile picture.  The rest of his page was relatively private.  His wife looks a bit kooky...but whatever.  Couldn't really see details on the picture.  But now I find myself obsessed with finding out more.  I'm not sure whether he'll want to talk to me...seeing as he sent back all of C's letters and never responded to her phone calls before I was born...but maybe he's changed.  Stranger things have happened, right?

I'm prepared for whatever...just still in shock I guess. 

Well, Thank Goodness THAT'S Over

"National Ripped-From-Our-Natural-Families-Because-It-Was-Apparently-God's-Plan-For-Us Month", that is. 

For the love of all that's good and holy in the world, can we just skip November next year?

I had to cut back on my posting this month.  I just couldn't deal with all the "Rah Rah adoption is wonderful, you just don't know what you're missing!" crap.  Ummm, yes, actually I DO know what I'm missing. 

My life.

Little Girl Lost

Just for shits and giggles, I was looking at the Myspace blog posts I'd written back in 2008..before I was found.  I came across the following poem I'd written.  It's a bit dark, just to warn you all.

What bugs the hell out of me is one day I'd write dark, depressing poems...and the next day I'd write posts about how much I missed my father.  Even though it's clear that I subconsciously knew, way back then, what kind of monster he was.


She sits in her room alone, gazing at the stoic reflection that has become her mask. The sound of her own breathing startles her..she has forgotten she even exists in the real world.



Little girl lost, sinks slowly into the looking glass. She is outwardly pristine and perfect. Inside, she is beaten and bloodied by the Mad Hatter of her nightmares.


The cheshire cat sneers at her from his perch above the mirror, mocking her for believing that she could still be considered innocent.


Who is she kidding? Her purity is gone, she is tarnished by a childhood marred by others and their secret agendas. Shhh, don't tell. They won't believe you anyway.


She has been raped by a system of dogooders gone bad...their concern is only fleeting..their words of concern are whispered, they hope she can't hear them. They don't believe her anyway.


Little girl lost finally removes her mask and sees...nothing.

What Is An Object?

Definition of OBJECT


1
a : something material that may be perceived by the senses
b : something that when viewed stirs a particular emotion (as pity)

2
a : something mental or physical toward which thought, feeling, or action is directed
b : something physical that is perceived by an individual and becomes an agent for psychological identification
3
a : the goal or end of an effort or activity 
b : a cause for attention or concern 


An object is NOT…

a child. A child is not something that is to be coveted. A child is not an object to be shunned just because you don’t have one.

However, according to this blogger, a child IS an object, as is pregnancy itself.

“It’s easy for the children to become a representation of all that you want, and so far, don’t have.”

So here’s the thing. Maybe I’m not so different from this blogger after all. As a child, I totally and completely coveted my friends’ parents and their lives. I wanted to be in a family that was my own. The huge difference is, I wasn’t allowed to leave the room just because I didn’t look like my adoptive relatives. I couldn’t tell my mother, “Hey, can you move me to a different table because I don’t look like the cousins?”.

Stormy Fear

My friends laugh at me because of my phobias.  I have a real problem with flying insects that can sting me and cause me pain.  I have no shame in admitting that I have screamed like a little kid on millions of more than one occasion.  Oddly enough, I've only been stung once and that was when I was 23.  But once was more than enough thankyouverymuch.

My other phobia usually only manifests itself during the hot summer months.  Thunder and lightning.  I literally shake in fear, frozen on the couch, while the storms rage outside.  It's worse when I'm alone because I don't have my kids for whom I have to be brave. 

It wasn't until tonight in therapy that I've realized part of why I'm so deathly afraid of storms...

When I was little, we'd get humongous storms.  Living in the valley of a mountain (actually more like a big, glorified hill, but whatever), we'd get pummeled by the lightning and thunder nearly every night during the summer.  The windows would be open...and the curtains would start to blow inward from the force of the wind.  Suddenly my mother would come to life and yell, "Shut the windows!  The rain's coming!!!".  My sister and I would immediately snap to and rush around shutting the windows, hoping we were moving fast enough to avoid my mother's anger.

One night, when I was probably seven or eight years old, I fucked up.

I forgot one of the windows in my parents' bedroom.

My father had gone upstairs during the middle of the storm and screamed my name.  I ran upstairs and froze at the doorway.  The look on his face was that of a rage-filled monster.  I just stood there and started crying out..."I'm sorry.!!  I thought it was closed!"

He slammed the window shut and in two strides was standing in front of me.  He grabbed me by both of my upper arms and threw me forcefully across the room onto the bed. 

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH??  THE CURTAINS ARE SOAKED AND THERE'S WATER ON THE CARPET...YOU GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT!!!"

Then he left.  And locked me in the room.

That night taught me a lot.  I learned to move faster.  I learned that I hated thunderstorms.  I learned that I never wanted to show anger because I didn't want to be like him. 

I learned that I was trapped.  Not just in that room...but in my life.

I Am A Biological Mother

Knowing what you know about me, after reading my blog for the past year, how many of you were shocked to read the title of this post?  C'mon..raise your hands...

I am a biological mother...a natural mother...a real mother...a birth mother. 

The difference between what I mean by those terms and what some adoptive parents mean by those terms is huge.  My daughter and son have my biological DNA coursing through their bodies.  I gave birth to them naturally...I am real to them...I am their birth mother.

BUT...they were not relinquished for adoption.  I am raising them.  But that doesn't make me any less a birth mother than any of my natural mother friends or my own natural mother. 

Get it?

I read a blog post today...and it angered me.  I know, I know, you're not surprised.  Especially when I remind you that it's still "National Ripped-From-Our-Natural-Families-Because-It-Was-Apparently-God's-Plan-For-Us Month".

The blog post was about Positive Adoption Language...PAL vs. "Negative" Adoption Language.  I can assure you that what she was discussing is not MY pal by any stretch of the imagination and if you're an adoptee or a natural mother, it's not YOUR pal either. 

It just seems that the only people who have a problem with the "Negative Adoption Language" are typically adoptive parents and potential adoptive parents.  They negate the impact of adoption on their children and the adoptees that have matured into adults because it's easier on them to pretend that the child was a blank slate when they got them.  Nothing mattered before Gotcha Day...only what happened after. 

I AM adopted.  Always have been, always will be.  I was given up when I was only a day old.  And 34 years later, my natural mother made contact with me.  And then we moved on to reunion.  I'm in reunion with my natural mother and my family...saying that "reunion" is negative again minimizes the effect that it's had on my life.  Making contact is writing a letter..making a phone call...reaching out.  Reunion is a process that can't be compartmentalized into a single moment. 

I'm a little shocked that the term "adoptive parent" is offensive to, well, adoptive parents.  I mean, many of them spend a lot of time proclaiming how wonderful adoption is and how God loves adoption...wouldn't you think they'd WANT to attach that label to themselves??  To show how self-sacrificing they are to take in a child "born to unmarried parents"? 

What's even more shocking is that the blog author could write the following on the post:

"It is very important to understand the difference between positive & negative adoption language when speaking with an adoptee and/or adoptive family. Here are some good pointers."

I think that if she'd taken out the "speaking with an adoptee" part, she would have captured the essence of what she was really trying to say.

Fluff

Rather than sit here and make my headache worse by continuing to color code this effing spreadsheet, I'm going to blog. About what you ask? Hmmm…not actually sure. Figure I'll just make this into a stream of consciousness post and hope for the best. Which means you should all be preparing for the worst.


Any of you who are friends with me on my "In Real Life" Facebook page (rather than the "Natural Name" one) will know my good news. As of a few weeks from now, I'll officially be hired on at my job as a permanent employee. I've been picking my ass for the last year, waiting for the bomb to explode in my life. Waiting for my contracting job to be dissolved and to be handed a pink slip. (Why do they hand out pink slips…why not blue…or green…or just plain white??) Ever since they told the contractors in the department that our jobs were being shipped overseas, I've been waiting.


Oh, I was told how valuable I am as an employee…that they were just waiting for an opening that they could hire me directly for…"Be patient Christina".."Don't panic yet Christina"…"We aren't going to get rid of you Christina". But then I sat back and watched all but TWO of my contracting coworkers get hired on by the company..one by one. And still I sat. Still doing the same job as I'd been hired for back in May of 2007, but not reaping the benefits of more days off, higher wages, better insurance, 401K, short/long term disability, blah blah frigging blah. This went on until May of this year. And then after the contract officially ended, I was told that I'd be kept on as a contractor for now until they could open a position "for real" for me.

The issue I have had the past few months is that I'm doing the work of a full time employee. Instead of collecting $8M in accounts receivable…I've been collecting on a $100M accounts receivable portfolio. Same hours as everyone else, but again, not getting anything out of it really. Greedy? Maybe. But I've got two kids who are going to need braces soon (God help me now) and a $500 contact lens/eye glasses bill every year that I'd love to be able to pay without having to sell an arm or a leg or my first born (BAD joke..I know…). But last week, I was told that things were going to change for me. I'll be hired on within the next few weeks and won't have to worry about my job anymore. The relief I feel is immense. The sense of security is so much better than it was this past year.

After they announced that I'd be coming aboard permanently, the conference room filled with all the managers and my peers erupted into applause. They know how difficult it's been for me to be patient and not to panic. They've supported me emotionally..much like all of you support me too. They knew there wasn't anything they could really do for me except let me vent and cry when the stress became too much. And it did…it became too much…a lot. But I'm coming through the dark tunnel…out into the light and I am so glad I hung in there to see the reward.

How's that for a positive post? I mean, my blog shouldn't be all negative all the time, right?

NAM-arama Ding Dong: Is It December Yet?

I'll be needing a TON of eye bleach to get through the coming month.  Why, you ask?  What?  You didn't hear???  It's the most wonderful time of year known as National Adoption Month.  Beginning in September the blog posts start.  I can deal with one or two showing up on my Google Reader, but then towards the end of October the onslaught of unicorns farting skittles and rainbow and sunshine-filled posts begin.  And let me tell you, I get twitchy.  Real twitchy. 

See, if I were to rename November, it'd be called "National Ripped-From-Our-Natural-Families-Because-It-Was-Apparently-God's-Plan-For-Us Month".

Offended?  Sorry.  But the thing is, I don't need a month designated to thinking about adoption.  I've had 36 years to do that.  Every day I ponder my own existence.  Every day I wonder what I did in another life to tick someone off that much to cause THIS to be my life and my burden to bear.  Pissing in someone's cereal doesn't seem like it'd be a good enough reason. 

I've discussed before why I don't celebrate adoption..but perhaps it bears repeating.  (This list is copied and pasted from this post..)

I celebrate my childrens' birthdays.

I celebrate Christmas..Thanksgiving..Mother's Day..Father's Day (for my childrens' fathers..not my own. He sucked).
I celebrate the births of my friends' babies.
I celebrate the lives of those who have passed on.
I celebrate every pound loss in my effort to become healthy.
I celebrate each dinner date I enjoy with my boyfriend.
I celebrate the fact that I still have a job (for now).
I celebrate my Libby (Jeep Liberty) for getting me back and forth to places I want/need to go.
I celebrate the Constitution of the United States that allows me Freedom of Speech.
I celebrate each moment I spend with both of my families..adoptive and natural.
I celebrate my daughter being in her school's spelling bee.
I celebrate my son for singing Taylor Swift at the top of his lungs while wearing his big sister's "Princess" shirt.
I celebrate my boyfriend for all the trips up and down the stairs to jiggle the handle on the dishwasher when it makes funny noises.
I celebrate my God for teaching me that there is more than one way to love and honor my Creator.


I do not celebrate something that rips aparts families.
I do not celebrate something that prohibits millions of Americans and others across the globe from obtaining their original birth certificates.
I do not celebrate something that causes children to get upset in school because they have to lie on their Family Tree projects.
I do not celebrate something that changes the names on a legal document and says that Amom and ADad are the biological parents of an adoptee.
I do not celebrate something that causes such a deep rooted feeling of loss.
I do not celebrate something that sometimes causes a sense of baby entitlement in so many people.
I do not celebrate "National Adoption Month".
I do not celebrate being silenced because I disagree with the statement, "Adoption is wonderful".


I do not celebrate adoption.

Comments From Someone Who Obviously Knows Everything About Me And What I'm About

I received some very enlightening comments on my Pity, Party of One..Your Table's Ready post.  Her name is Chris and she's the blog author of 2 Chicks 1 Hatchling.

Here's the first comment from Chris:

With all due respect from one human being to another, if you would stop attacking other people's writings that you disagree with, perhaps you could focus your energy in a more positive direction. I think its very sad that your blog is directed to making judgments on others. People want to be friends with others that are happy. I dont know what it will take for you to come to terms with your life at it is, and not how you wanted it to be, but I hope you find it. I sincerely doubt that seeking out "Blogs of Shame" and judging other peoples lives is helping you to find what you seek. Perhaps you could volunteer your time to a more worthy cause.



Sincerely,


friend of a happy, healthy, adopted child
 
And my response:
 
Chris, with "all due respect" the fact that you are a friend of a happy, healthy, adopted child doesn't mean shit to me. Come back and comment on my blog when you're the friend of a happy, healthy adopted adult.



See, what you don't understand is that I don't discuss my issues with being adopted with the "real world". To the outside world, I'm a mother, a girlfriend, a working professional, a good listener, someone who would drop everything to help people out...but here, I can let my feelings out. Much like the AP's I come across in Blogland let all their feelings out.


I have the right to disagree with them. Sorry...but last time I checked, AP's don't hold a monopoly on blogging. Last time I checked, it's not normal to covet someone else's child or to call pregnant women "Breeders" or to pray that a grieving father gives his infant child up simply because there's an infertile couple waiting to scoop the baby up.


Not all the blogs I gift the Blog o' Shame awards to are ones that I've found. Often, they are passed on to me from friends and even complete strangers.


Perhaps you should volunteer at an adoptee support group to see what I'm talking about and what issues you think I should be able to just get over.

So, she decided to post a rebuttal:

My apologies, I said "child" because she was a child when she was adopted. She is now 43. (A former boyfriend of mine lived his whole life in foster care. He was never adopted, and now resides in a prison.)



Also, I did not suggest that you should "just get over" anything. I said that seeking out and attacking others that disagree with you wasn't helping your cause. You have every right to disagree with whomever you choose and use whatever hurtful words you like. If that's what makes you happy, then go for it. The only reason I posted to start with at all was because you mentioned you were unhappy. I think that your negativity may be part of that. Acceptance, forgiveness, and love do amazing things for the soul.
 
Rather than reply there, I've decided to write down my thoughts in a new post.
 
The problem, Chris, is that many times adopted adults are treated as children.  We are told to just "get over it" (it being our adoptions and displeasure at growing up with strangers)...that our heritage doesn't matter at all...that we should be thankful for being saved from a dumpster or a crack addicted mother or name-another-horrible situation.
 
What amuses me is that you give two examples of adopted persons that you know.  One is 43 and is a "happy, healthy, adopted child"..and the other was in foster care, never adopted and is now in *gasp* prison.  Poor foster care boy, huh?  If he'd only been adopted, he NEVER would have ended up in prison, right?  I know people who grew up with their natural parents who ended up on the wrong path...so your implied theory is crap.
 
I speak out for adoptees who can't yet speak for themselves.  I speak out for adoptees who CAN speak for themselves.  I speak out.  And if you're offended by my tone, then it's your perogative to click the little red "X" in the upper right hand corner of your monitor.  I'll continue to read blogs...I'll continue to write my posts.
 
I'm NOT happy that there are blogs out there that proclaim that waiting for a mother to give up their child is the same as being pregnant..."paper pregnancy".  I'm NOT happy that there are blogs out there that say that God called them to adopt.  No..the Creator didn't.  They called themselves to adopt.  I'm NOT happy that there are adults who aren't allowed to have their original birth certificates.  I'm NOT happy that there are people who can go to a sperm bank and pick some swimmies and make a child that will never know his/her father. 
 
That doesn't mean that I don't have happiness in my life.  I have a solid support system.  My boyfriend has stood by me through very bad times...he knows about the abuse..knows about the issues I have with my adoptive mother and adoption in general and loves me all the more for what I've been through.  My children make me happy...24/7.  They are my flesh and blood.  And before I was found by my natural mother, they were the only people in whose eyes I could see myself.  My reunion makes me happy.  Regardless of the pain and the what-ifs that I deal with, I am happy that I was found and that I have natural family members who love me unconditionally.
 
You told me that "Acceptance, forgiveness, and love do amazing things for the soul".  Yes..they do.
 
I've accepted that I was adopted into an abusive shithole of a household.  Do I have to like it and keep my mouth shut about it just because I accept it?  Nope.
 
I've forgiven my natural mother for feeling scared and giving me up for adoption.  Do I have to like THAT and keep my mouth shut about it just because I've forgiven her?
 
I have love in my life.  Great love.  But that does NOT mean I have to keep my mouth shut and not say things that I think need to be said about the atrocities that are caused...yes, caused...by adoption.
 
 

Pity, Party of One..Your Table's Ready

Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me. Well I mean, aside from the obvious adoptee issues I struggle with on a daily basis. I told you all about how my best friend had "broke it off with me" back in May. And I guess I thought, hey, I don't need her. I have plenty of other friends to keep me busy!


Lie. The truth is, I don't have plenty of other friends to keep me occupied. The only people who call my cell phone are my boyfriend, my ex (my daughter's dad), my amom and my nsister. Everyone else just Facebooks me, or..it seems like…can't be bothered. This past weekend, both my kids were essentially gone from Friday night until Sunday night. And while it was relaxing…I was lonely. Very lonely. Steven was off doing some errands and helping one of his buddies for a couple hours on Saturday and I just sat on the couch for those two hours, wishing I had someone to call. Someone who I could go visit and have a cup of coffee with. A "go to" person, you know?

Maybe I've done this to myself. But, on the advice of my therapist, I HAVE been trying to be the kind of friend that I'd want to have. And, it's not working. Do I realize I'm whining? Yep. I guess I just need to whine and feel sorry for myself before I can truly get over it. It just sucks.

That's not to say that I don't appreciate all of you. That I don't know that you are all my friends too. You're all just so far away…and while I desperately wish I could, I can't just call one of you up and say, "Hey, want to meet for coffee?". I have work friends…but they live close to my job and that's an hour away. On the rare weekends that I could get away for a night for girls' time…they are usually busy. I spent the bulk of my growing up years being alone and learning to deal with it but now that I've experienced what it felt like to have a best friend, I long for that again.

Chameleon

Had therapy tonight.  We've been actually dealing with a lot of my feelings about being adopted and growing up in the family that I was so lucky to have been taken in by bought by.  Tonight I talked about how hard it was not looking like the rest of my afamily.  I mean, the likeness between all of them is astounding..or maybe it just seemed that way because I didn't have any other frame of reference.  Holidays were hard because we were all in the same place, and the differences were glaringly obvious.  Their faces all were shockingly the same...and then there were my sister and I with our thick plastic BCG's and cheap thrift store clothes that never seemed to fit correctly...just didn't fit in. 

But I tried.  I became a master of disguises.  I said what was expected of me..smiled when it was appropriate...laughed at the jokes...listened while my cousins talked about the latest song on the radio or the newest television heart throb...and took on their opinions.  Because it was easier.  I pretended that my family wasn't "off".  That we really WERE one big happy family...that when we went home, the screaming and yelling and scary days and nights were just bad dreams.   Because it was easier.

I still listen to others to find out what the majority is thinking and then I just go along with the crowd.  I don't even know if I could say what I wanted or what I thought because I've never really forced myself to do that.  I am 36 years old and have no idea who I am.  I know the roles I play in my life...mother, daughter and sister to two different families, girlfriend to one, EX girlfriend to a few, employee, neighbor...but those really are just roles.  They aren't WHO I am on the inside.  They aren't my feelings or emotions.

Sometimes I feel like a blank slate...waiting for people to come to me and draw my life in for me.  But, like I told my therapist, I want to draw my OWN picture eventually.  It's terrifying though.

She said that hopefully someday soon I'll be able to figure out what I want to do...if it's Credit and Collections, then great (not likely).  If it's not, then what is it? 

I told her I've always wanted to write...she was very encouraged and asked me if I'd ever written anything.  I told her about this blog...and my other fluffy one.  Can't believe I told her about them, but I did.  She was so excited about it I thought she was going to jump out of her chair.  Truth be told, I'm a bit excited about it too.  I didn't have to think about it for one second.  The words, "I'd love to be a writer" just came out of my mouth. 

And so, the point of this rambling post is to say that I'm going to really try and focus (yeah, yeah, heard that before?) and just...write.  And write my own story...and draw my own life's picture.  And find some oasis in this world...for me.

Knock Knock...

Me: Knock knock...
You:  Who's there?
Me: Nacho...
You: Nacho WHO?
Me: Nacho Mama!

For some of the adoptive mothers out there who are looking for shirts to proclaim their rightful place in the family, here you go:

Clearance Section

Sometimes WTF just doesn't cut it.

Adoption Screening?

Please read: The Benefits of Doing an Adoption Screening

I'm confused by the whole "like with like" statement.  Let's say the child is adopted as an infant.  How exactly can you match that baby with adopters who are like him or her?  I guess you can match a blonde haired, blue eyed girl with blonde haired blue eyed aparents...but what other criteria would be suitable?

In my case, I did semi-resemble my adoptive parents with my looks...but I definitely wasn't loud or mean.  I went to church because they went to church, but not because I had been born wanting to go.  I listened to Elvis Presley and Hooked on Classics, not because I particularly cared for them, but because that's what my amother would play on the record player every Saturday while my sister and I cleaned the house.  I absolutely hate seafood, while my family loved it, and they would always bitch and moan when they had to find restaurants in Maine on our vacations that would cater to my picky eating habits.

"In fact, adoptions were generally indistinguishable from indentured servitude at best, whereby room and board was provided in return for labor for a set number of years; it has to be considered a relative improvement when adoptions became much more like apprenticeships, providing at least some training in marketable skills."

It's good that adoption became less like slavery and more like apprenticeship how exactly?  Because of the "training in marketable skills"? 

I was trained in how to hide my feelings.
I was trained to not speak up for myself.
I was trained how to cower in the corner.
I was trained to pretend that our family was perfect.
I was trained to expect to be yelled at at least twice a day.
I was trained how to stop myself from crying to avoid being beaten.

Great marketable skills, huh?

A Blessing In Disguise

Instead of getting upset at the car accident or at the cold that I have...I'm thankful.  Cannot get into specifics here but suffice to say, I have a feeling that the universe is looking out for me.

Cheating Just A Bit

I posted this on my favorite adoptee forum earlier and because I'm tired and cranky I'm just cutting and pasting.  So those of my friends who have already read this whiny-ness, feel free to jet.

My daughter gave me a cold...a horrible, rotten no good "head feels like it's stuffed with cotton and rocks" cold. And, there's an elephant sitting on my chest.


I made it through work up until 3pm and then asked my manager if I could leave early, go home and sleep. (Didn't fucking help that my wonderful *ahem* boyfriend had used all the daytime cold medicine and DIDN'T FUCKING TELL ME).

Left work and all was well until I was a half hour up the highway. Was in the fast lane but the cars were all crawling because of road construction. The truck in front of me braked and then stopped. I braked and then stopped. The jeep behind me? Didn't stop. At.All.

My jeep's okay...relatively. The back door won't open, the bumper's possibly hanging on by a bolt and is scratched and ripped in a few places. What burns my ass too is that my friend had put on the tire cover I'd found at a flea market right before I left work today and now IT'S ripped too with pieces of glass in it.

I know it could have been a lot worse...and looking at the jeep that plowed into me, I am VERY lucky...but I just feel so lousy and tired and didn't need this today.

I should have just stayed at work and suffered.

Coffee Talk With Christina: Part Two

Been feeling a bit out of it lately...again..lol.  So it's time to jumpstart my blog with some more cawfee tawk, inspired by some very special friends/readers.  What?  You can't stop laughing about "cawfee tawk"?  I AM from Massachusetts after all, gotta have the accent on my blog sometimes even if I don't have one when I'm talking..haha.
 
This installment's questions are brought to you by the lovely Von.  Thank you...love you!
 
"Did you try "Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way"?"
 
Try it?  No.  Seek out the website and decide that I'll be seriously getting into it very soon?  Yes!
 
"Where do you see yourself in 10 years time? 20 years time?"
 
Hmmmm, well in ten years time my kids will both be out of high school (OMG, that was difficult to write).  I'd love to be working in a job that I want to go to rather than one that I'm at now.  It's a daily struggle to drive there, knowing that I'm going to be stuck in front of a computer monitor all day.  But the quandry is, I have no idea what I want to do.  What am I good at??  I have no clue.  Yikes. 
 
In twenty years, holy jeebus, I just hope I'm still around to see my kids happy with the lives they are living.  Perhaps I'll have grandchildren (HOLY JEEBUS)...or helping to plan a wedding.  Most of all though, I hope I'll feel fulfilled and pleased with the progress I've made as a person.  I picture myself healthier in the future...finally free from this stupid weight that I'm carrying around...not just the physical weight but the emotional baggage as well.  It seems so far away some days.
 
"What adoption reforms would you like to see happen?"
 
First and foremost, open access for all adoptees to their original birth certificates.  It's a civil right that is denied to millions of adoptees because...well, honestly, I'm not really sure why.  Do I think that adoption will ever be entirely wiped out?  Sadly no.  But that doesn't mean that it's not worth fighting for...and striving for.  Why not legal guardianship?  Why does it have to be adoption?  If it's truly about the best interests of the child, why is taking away their heritage okay?  Answer:  To me, it's not.
 
"What is your most precious dream?"
 
You know what?  I've never allowed myself to truly dream. 
 
I used to dream of going to and graduating from college...had to leave after a year though because dear ol' adad lost his job and I had to move home to help work to pay the household bills. 
 
Then there was the dream of getting married and having kids...with a beautiful house complete with a white picket fence.  Well, I have the kids..lol.  And, you'll all be the first to know if and when I get proposed to by Steven...  I'm going to be honest here...I get horribly jealous of my friends who did get married in their 20's. Like I'm not part of the club...and to which I can never gain entrance.


But I made choices in my life that crushed the "perfect life" dream and I've stopped allowing myself to even daydream about it because I just end up disappointed. 
 
I have no idea if I truly answered your questions Von or just scratched the surface, but you definitely gave me food for thought. 

Is Adoption Right For You?

Please read Kim's post and find out for yourself. 

Courtesy of the Marvelous M

I just commented on M's blog and told her that she's going to be a guest Blog of Shame award writer one of these days.  She's captured the emotion and horror that we all feel reading some of the blogs that are out there in cyberspace.

Thanks M.

Think You've Seen It All?

Check out this lovely bit of vomitrociousness.

For Pete's sake, and once we all became defogged we thought Cabbage Patch Kids were offensive?

Blooming

Seven years ago on this coming Sunday, the twelfth, my afather died.  As I've written about before, every year on that date (or the nearest weekend) my family gets together and plants flowers and takes pictures of all of us surrounding the grave.

Creepy.  Or, I should say, it creeps me out now to think about it.  What's funny is that after he died, when I'd thought I'd forgiven him for being "inappropriate" with me when I was a little girl, I'd go to the cemetery every chance I'd get.  I'd water his flowers religiously, loving how my mother would say, "Your dad would be so proud of you". 

Now, I want to take a can of black spray paint and write "Child Molester" across the lighthouse tombstone that I had found for his grave.  It's taken me over a year of therapy and many sleepless nights to get to this point, but I'm here.

My asister called me at work today...here's the conversation:

Me: Hi, this is Christina...

C: Hey, it's your sister...bad time? 

Me: Nope..just staring at this godforsaken spreadsheet, willing it to implode on itself.

C: giggles I see...sounds exciting..haha.  So, Mom asked me to call you about Sunday.

Me: thinking and feeling a bit panicky

C:  She said that she is pretty sure you weren't going to want to go to the cemetery this year. 

Me:  Yeah, that's pretty much where I'm at.  I mean, if you guys are going out afterwards, we could probably meet for lunch or something.

C:  That's what I figured.  And, I don't blame you at all.  Because it's Sunday this year I can't go because of church (my sister is a minister and has to preach on Sundays).  Chris, I have to tell you, I'm a little surprised that you'd even come for lunch...since he'd be talked about, you know?

Me:  I think I'd be okay.  Emotionally...physically I can't do the cemetery but I should be okay for lunch.

C:  Do you want to give yourself a day to think about it?  See if you change your mind?

Me:  laughs Well, I do have my therapy appointment tomorrow night...

C:  Perfect!!!  Talk it over and see what comes up.  I'll tell Mom that I talked to you and you're going to think about it.  No need to tell her that you're waiting til you talk to your therapist...

Me:  Hahaha..yeah., good point.

More chitchat and then we ended the call.

Most of you reading this, well aside from the "Meanie Haters" and those who haven't joined me as minions yet, know how HUGE this is for me.  I am finally speaking up for myself...I'm finally able to verbalize what I need.  I've never been able to do that.  My friend at work knows my whole story and after hearing what was said between me and my sister said, "Holy shit Christina, I feel like throwing you a party!!!  That's awesome!"

::tosses confetti::  You're all invited ;)

Have You Ever Said This?

I'm linking from The Declassified Adoptee's (Amanda <3) blog today, because I think it explains an adoptee's angst much more eloquently than I could...lol...and probably more nicely too.

"But You Don't Know What It's Like!"

Coffee Talk With Christina: Part One

Way back on August 6, I was whining endlessly lamenting the fact that I was experiencing writer's block.  I asked for some help and I'm finally getting around to taking the time to answer the commenters' questions.

Diane, from An-Ya asked me the following (her words are italicized):

"Tell me about you when you were 10. Not quite a little girl...not yet a teen...what were your dreams? Did those dreams come true? Did your dreams change as you entered your teen years? If so, why did they change?"

I was an odd child.  All through my childhood, I was strange.  Never comfortable in my own skin...embarassed when people noticed me.  Fifth grade was no different.  I had the stupidest hair cut...ever.   And my glasses...well, let's just say, I don't call them "ugly ass glasses" for nothing. 

Don't believe me?  Take a look at this picture.  Second row, second in from the left.

It's okay, you can laugh.  Hell, I can laugh now.  But back then, I knew I was ugly...knew that I didn't fit in.  Knew that my teacher hated me...but that there was nothing I could do about it.  I loved the Fall and the Spring when I could escape to the woods and climb trees and make up stories of how I was actually a princess that was being help captive, far from my family and castle.  THAT was my dream.  That one day, my family would come looking for me and save me from the misery that was my life...a dungeon from which there was no escape.

My dream didn't come true until two years ago.  July 11, 2008..the day of first contact with my natural mother.  On that day, I was freed from the dungeon. 


"If you could travel back in time and talk to yourself...what would you say? What words would you use to comfort your 10 year old self?"

I spend a lot of my therapy sessions comforting my five year old and eight year old selves.  I am learning how to give them the love that I lacked from my adoptive parents...and to help them see that I can keep them safe now.  That it's 2010 and everything that happened, happened in the past...it's over.  I'd tell my 10 year old self to hold on.  That one day, she's going to grow up and have friends to talk to and to love her.  That it doesn't matter whether the teacher likes her, or teases her for her stutter.  None of that matters...because I love her.  And I haven't forgotten about her and the pain, loneliness and abuse she's going through.

"10 years old was a hard age for me. I am interested in how it played out for you...and anyone else who is reading along."

Every age was hard for me.  Not trying to be a smartass here...it's just how it was.  Oddly enough, I don't really have many "memories" of those years, per se.  I just remember how I felt.  Empty.

Anyone else want to share on the questions that Diane asked me?  Feel free to use this as a jumping off point to discuss. 

Thanks Diane...I'll be answering the other questions from that post in the coming days.

Not Only Mean But Crazy

You, yes you...my readers...are mean.  Not only are you all mean, you're crazy.   And you are ALL my personal minions.  No, really..you are.

Because SHE said so.

I feel like I should give myself a title..."ringleader" just doesn't roll off the tongue.



Yup..clearly she's right..and I'm wrong.  I have no idea what I'm talking about...and neither do any of you. 

I'm not an adoptee either, right? And she didn't really say that she wasn't going to encourage M to enter rehab before M handed over her child to her and her wife? 

Sigh.

A lovely quote from the linked post...

"These people (meaning all of us mean, crazy, disturbed people who have nothing better to do than bother this poor woman) have only served to make me want to advocate for adoption all the more! All of them are really lucky to never have suffered the devastation of infertility, miscarriage, or adoption disruption. It makes it easy for them to judge people they know nothing about."

Ummmm...try being adopted and being out of the fog.  It's no picnic either sweetheart. 

Ummm, What About Adoptees?

This blogger has put out a question to her readers..specifically her adoptive parent readers on what insensitve comments people have made to them and how they respond since there's another side of things apart from what "birthmothers" hear. 

See, there's another side that she doesn't mention.  The adoptees' side.  It's not just natural mothers or adoptive parents who have comments hurled at them that hurt.


And while I know I've blogged about that before, I'm blogging about it again.


For example, after being found by my natural mom, I received comment after comment about how angry I should be that she disrupted my life. They wouldn't ask me how I was feeling about it, just asked, "Oh, how is your mother doing?".  Literally, that was the first thing people said.  Yeah, because my world hasn't just been shaken to the core or anything..::big ass eye roll::.

They say, "How can you love someone who'd just give you up to someone else like that?" but in the next breath say, "Adoption is wonderful for everyone, all of the time". It's hypocritical, don't you think?
"You could have been aborted..isn't it better that you were adopted into a family?" First of all, everyone on the planet could have been aborted. And second of all, yes..I was adopted into a family, but most of the people who say that have no idea of what that family life was like for me or my adoptive sister.

"Aren't you grateful to your parents?" If by grateful you mean that I'm thankful they didn't kill me? Then yes. They had the good grace to keep me alive. But if by grateful you mean that I should be grateful for them saving me from a horrible life with my natural family, then no. I'll never be grateful for that.

"Heritage and biology don't matter..it's love." This irks me too. How many of you have had family tree projects in school? And how many of you have had to lie on those projects and put down names and relations and the countries they came from..only to feel like a fraud after the project was done. And how many of you have had to consistently write "Adopted ~ N/A" on medical forms your entire life because you have no idea what diseases may run in your family.

My adoptive mother once said to me, "Oh, you'd better get that checked out, XYZ runs in our family."

Yeah Mom, about that...

No Unicorns Allowed...Meanies Unite!

Hi..my name is Christina.

(altogether now) Hi Christina!

I'm probably one of those meanies that you are afraid of. And before you go jumping the gun and automatically assuming (you know what happens when you "assume" right?) that I'm a birthmother-who-was-forced-to-give-up-her-baby-but-things-are-different-now-don't-you-know...I'm not.

I'm an adoptee.

I speak for myself...I have my own opinions...and sometimes my comments get deleted off of blogs because my voice doesn't count. ::shrug:: 

Oh, here's the comment that wasn't allowed on this post that was discussing using the term "birthmother", by the way:

@David and Amy...I'm sure that my adoptive parents said that their love for me was perfect as well. And I suppose that in their eyes, it was a perfect love. But you're right, you DON'T know my situation...and let me tell you, my childhood was hell. Again though, even if my childhood had been full of and unicorns and ponies and puppies, I STILL would have rathered to have had my natural mother and my natural family in my life. That's just my personal experience..and I'm not trying to speak for anyone else. 

A woman DOESN'T stop being a mother after they give up their child. They carried that baby for nine months, nurtured the baby with food and comfort and love. And to say that doesn't make someone a mother sounds very righteous and spoken like a true martyr, in my opinion. I should know..my adoptive mother would have said the SAME EXACT THING. You say you spent 8 1/2 years trying to figure out what a mother is...I've spent 36 years of my ENTIRE LIFE trying to figure out the SAME THING..and I am so glad that I can say that, for myself, my natural mother has ALWAYS been a mother to me, even though we were separated for 34 of those years.

(By the way, I think it's rude when people use caps lock when commenting on someone's post, but that's just me.)

@Sterling..Thank you for your email that you sent me, I'm in the process of responding. I have to admit that I wasn't expecting it, but I appreciate you taking the time to write me to explain your thinking.

The blog author, after I told her that I thought it was distasteful that she allowed flippant humor about adoption through, but deleted my comments, told me that she'd emailed my comments to the people I was addressing in the above paragraphs. She then asked me if I was referring to Ashley's comment on her blog being flippant and I said:

You don't need to delete it...but yes, I was referring to Ashley's comment.

I guess I'm just used to having a free forum on my blog where discussions can be had without comments being deleted. I need to remember that not everyone feels the same.

By the way everyone, this was the part of Ashley's comment that I specifically took offense to...

"Seriously, how lucky am I to have someone loving my daughter so much??? Poor people who haven't adopted. I've got twice as much mommy love going toward my daughter. Neiner neiner neiner...".

If it's mean of me to call someone out for being rude (not to mention the fact that she spelled "Neener Neener Neener" incorrectly), then I'm proud to wear that title. I'll add it to the list.

And if someday I get banned from someone's clubhouse for speaking my mind...then pass the cold risotto because by God, I'll eat all of it.

Let Me Introduce...

Keeper. 

I was going through some random Photobucket pictures, specifically searching for "Speak No Evil" photos and I came across the below image.  It is haunting me tonight because it really does look like an older version of my eight year old self...aka Keeper.  In my therapy sessions, I've described Keeper as having very piercing eyes, but no mouth.  Here she is:

Give Me All Your Money

When my kids were little, I was poor.  Like, we're talking scrounging-around-under-the-carseats-to-find-change-for-gas poor.  After my son was born and I'd left his father, we moved in with my amother in her one bedroom apartment.  Maddie and I shared a air mattress and Chase slept in his port-o-crib.  It was difficult...and because I didn't have a lot of money, what I had went towards food and diapers..and nothing else.  My car got repo'd during that time...and I lost 30 pounds because I was making sure the kids were eating.  Chase was still drinking formula but I only ate Maddie's leftovers.  A french fry here, a half eaten bowl of cereal there.  I made do.  It was hard though..and I hope to never experience that again...

I never begged for money though.  Not once.  Which is why I find it totally disgusting that there are potential adoptive parents out there on the internet begging for donations.  They are fundraising for a child in a faraway land...just because they want a newborn or because they want to add to their family.  It's gross.  And I cannot believe that it's allowed to continue.   My aparents probably borrowed the money for my adoption (the whopping $225.00 back in 1974) from my grandparents but I bet they paid them back as soon as possible...they may have been abusive monsters but they did have the decency to pretend that they could afford their coveted children. 

I think this quote from the Ladybug Blessings website sums all of this up nicely..

"At Ladybug Blessings we understand the expenses, the love and your longing to give a child a home and a family. We are honored to have the opportunity to be a part of your adoption fundraiser process."

I'd only be slightly sick to my stomach if the word expenses wasn't brought up as the first thing to think about in regards to the problems surrounding adoption...as it is though, I may have to spend two, three or maybe ten years sitting in front of the toilet. 

Turn That Frown...

I was looking through some old pictures of myself the other day.  Not the middle school or high school ones in which I was wearing BCG (like these for example) but the photos from when I was little.  Way before abuse entered my world..or at least, way before I could remember the abuse. 

I noticed that in a lot of them, think 99.99% of the time, I was frowning.  No smile..nothing.  In the other .01% I had the biggest, cheesiest grin..stupid looking really.  I have a feeling those were the pictures in which my mother was behind the camera...probably getting seriously irritated with the child who refused to smile. 

"Smile dammit...what the hell is the matter with you??  Your sister smiles in ALL her pictures...why aren't you?!" 

Oh, I don't know...maybe because I didn't have much to be happy about.

Here's a couple of examples:

And going back even further in my childhood...we get..

Polite Eruptions

Two weeks since my last therapy session.  Sigh.  Wasn't too bad today...could have been worse I suppose.  Tonight was spent yelling and screaming.  Yes, on purpose. 

I had expressed my recent frustration at my son's father and the child support I'm not getting.

Actually, that's not true.  I'm getting some support.  Just not the right amount.

He's court ordered to contribute $112.50 every two weeks.  That's it.  It's $45.00 plus $11.25 towards the arrears he owes me per week.  So, here's what I've gotten the past four cycles:

08/11/2010 $46.13 TRANSFERRED TO BANK

07/28/2010 $19.40 TRANSFERRED TO BANK

07/14/2010 $23.69 TRANSFERRED TO BANK

06/30/2010 $53.96 TRANSFERRED TO BANK

Notice the amounts?  Divide them by two and you'll see what I actually ended up getting per week.

Is it any wonder why I'm pissed off sometimes? 

So, my therapist told me that while we were tapping, we were going to yell.  Didn't matter if I swore...didn't matter what I said...it just mattered that I got it all out.

And so, I tried.  I expressed all the things that have pissed me off recently and even in the past regarding my relationship with my ex.  Curious about what those things were?  Here's a sampling...

-Calling CPS on me when Chase was a few months old...because he had a diaper rash and the sniffles
-Getting irritated with me for checking my watch every five minutes in the car as we drove to the hospital because I was in labor.
-Leaving me at the hospital so he could go home and chill out on the computer until the actual birth of our child...and almost not making it back in time.
-Not allowing Chase to attend my afather's funeral because he didn't want him to be around so much sadness...Chase was six months old.
-Posting rude and vulgar things on his Myspace profile about me
-Blaming me for keeping him from Chase when in actuality, he left the state and ran away to Louisiana to make a new life for himself.  Honestly, I think he would have blamed Hurricane Katrina on me if he could have..lol.
-Not coming to my side when I got in a major car accident with my 2 and 1/2 year old daughter..and five months pregnant at the time.
-Letting my car's battery die in the middle of a snowstorm and making me go out and jump it because he was afraid of getting shocked by the wires.

Now I was pretty damn proud of myself for venting about all that stuff...but after we were done, she looked at me and said, "You know, that was pretty polite...some of what you were saying he'd done made me raise my eyebrows...but you were just...mild...". 

We worked through why that was.  She asked me what would have happened if I'd yelled and screamed in anger as a child and I told her that would have never been tolerated.  It just wasn't safe.  I kept my emotions in check so I wouldn't get in trouble and have to deal with the wrath of my mother. 

Some days, I feel really fucked up.

The Appendectomy

This blog post by my friend Linda got my creative juices flowing. 

The girl in the story got pregnant, but her parents told everyone that she had a "tumor".  And instead of fessing up once the girl had her baby, the parents made up an elaborate lie about how a baby just mysteriously showed up on their doorstep with a note pinned to his clothes.

Me?  I wasn't a tumor.  I was an appendix.  At least that was what my grandparents told some of the older relatives in the family.  They said that my mother had had to have emergency surgery when in actuality, she'd given birth to me...their first grandchild.  I was the first niece born in the family...the first one to give birth to the family's grandniece and nephew.  But because of how my life's puzzle was put together, I had to read my uncle's jubilant Facebook comment when my cousin had her daughter. 

"Today, we welcome baby Maggie to the world.  And with her birth, I become a great uncle!"

I know it's got to be just as strange for them to turn their thoughts around and see that I'm actually "here"..but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

I am the appendix ripped out of my mother's stomach and tossed away in a sterile bowl.

Adoption is an emergency appendectomy

Unblock Me: A Plea For Help

No seriously..something's wrong with me.  I keep avoiding the issue in the hopes that my emptiness will ease, but it's not working.  I don't know what to say.  I'm not sure what to think.  I don't want to go on a vacation from my blog but really, WTF. 

I'm good at reading everyone's blogs...good at thinking, "Wow, I wish I'd written that..".  I want to give something back to my readers..not just fluffy posts about writer's block. 

I'm hoping that this week will help me clear out the cobwebs and get back to the business of telling my story...back to the reason I started this blog in the first place..to help others.  So, I'm reaching out to you guys.  What do you want to know about me?  If we were sitting down together, having a cup of coffee, what would you ask?

Call this post my own personal Formspring.  I'll answer your questions in later posts...

God knows what the hell I'll do if no one comments..lol...

Sleepy Happy Grumpy Mopey...

In a funk.  Yup.  I'm definitely in a funk.  The past few days I've been toying with different posts but every time I go to start writing, it all comes out sounding like crap.  Verbal vomit, if you will.

Therapy is on hold for two weeks...she's on vacation this week and I'm on vacation next week (SQUEAL!).  I definitely need a break from work..and I can't wait to spend some quality family time with the kids and Steven.  It starts with a town concert that Maddie's singing in, continues with beach days, the zoo, playgrounds, picnics, natural family reunion and a birthday party for the son of one of my best friend's.  Chock full of fun..chock full of love. 

A lot of you know that I've started a separate Facebook profile for my adopted self.  I know that I should be strong enough to combine the two..adoptive life vs. natural life..but it's difficult for me.  In my head, I'm still the fragile girl who had to please EVERYONE.  Had to remain quiet lest she anger her parents.  I hate that I'm still afraid of my mother's wrath...that I still crave her approval...and am afraid of hurting her...I hate those things.  But it's hard to undo 36 years of fear overnight.  I wish it were easy.  I wish that I could truly be free for one day from the pain and the grief..and the feelings of guilt when I post pictures of my kids on Facebook and I hear from my natural mother that she lets my adoptive mother comment first so that she doesn't seem to be stepping on anyone's toes.  I want to yell at her in those moments and say, "To hell with that!  Comment when you want!!".  But I'd be hypocritical.  Because I understand why she does that.

Linky Doo

I know, what a lameass title..but I'm tired and cranky and I've had another migraine for the past 48 hours, deal with it.

I don't always agree with some of the things the blog author of the linked post writes.  I'm sure if she reads my blog, she'd say the same thing.  But I love her latest post and wanted to give it some linky love.

Open Letter to Adoptive Parents and PAP's

Love and Compassion..They Do A Body Good

Sometimes the Grown In My Heart site triggers my sensitive adoptee self...and I stay away from reading the posts, for months at a time, because I just can't subject myself to the heartache.

Today, I rejoiced.  Read this post..written by Tonggu Momma in May of 2010.  It touched my heart.  I needed that today.

July 11th..A Double Edged Sword

Last year I blogged about what July 11th means to me...here's the link to that post:

July 11, 2008 ~ The Day My World Stood Still

A day later and I blogged an entirely different post...

July 11, 2009 ~ The Day The World Stood Still For My Sister

Today has been rough...today instead of celebrating my reunion with my natural family...I am grieving for my sister who is still in mourning.

Healing On The Boulder

I'm going to be honest here...therapy sucked tonight.  I'm feeling really shitty and not in a good place at all.

This morning in the shower I had a body memory.  I remembered hearing my mother screaming at me...and how my entire body tensed up, waiting for her to shake me...or slap me.  I put the memory out of my mind and went about my day...or so I thought.  As the day wore on, I felt a massive migraine and the beginnings of a panic attack coming on.  I wanted desperately to cancel my therapy appointment...wanted to just go home and crawl into bed, listening to the hum of the air conditioner.

But I went.

And she had me invite Five to my boulder.  Five was able to throw her scared feelings about our adoptive mother into the water..and after what seemed like an eternity, was able to toss the crap of the screaming and the pain of the stinging hand to the river.

But while her pain dissipated, mine was multiplying...inexplicably I was having a hard time breathing.  My therapist had me try and connect to my Wise Self...trying to help me see that I was safe..and that nothing bad could happen to me on the boulder..but it didn't work.

It felt like there was a wall in front of me, and my chest couldn't expand out enough to take a deep breath.

Suddenly, as my breathing got more and more shallow, I realized why I couldn't breathe. 

When my mother and sister would go off on a shopping excursion, they'd leave me at home with my father.  Not realizing that instead of saving me from a day of walking from one end of the mall to the other, they were leaving me to the Big Bad Wolf.  I'd run from him...and he'd corner me...pressing me up against the wall. 

I began to cry and explained what I was remembering to my therapist.  Gently she guided my thoughts back to the boulder and I threw the panicked feeling of not being able to breathe into the river.

Eventually, the feeling was washed away..and my breathing slowed...inhale..exhale..inhale..exhale..

...but I'm in pain tonight.

The Princess Has Arrived

The call came in the morning.  My adoptive mother answered the phone...hearing their case worker telling her that they had a baby girl, just six days old, arriving at the agency that afternoon.

She immediately called my afather at work and told him to come home.  Many more calls were made to family, friends and neighbors...telling them of the blessed event.  But, horrors!, they weren't ready!  The crib wasn't put together...having been taken apart once my asister grew out of it...no clothes, no diapers..no bottles..nothing..not even a name.

Once my father arrived home, the neighbors took off and started shopping...for the clothes, the diapers, the bottles..the name would have to come later. 

The trio, mother..father..and four year old sister, set off for the agency...only to find out that the wee one wouldn't make her appearance for another hour or so.  They had lunch..and went back to sit in the waiting room.  Minutes dragged by until finally, the baby was brought in and taken away.

Arriving at the family's home, it was clear that a crowd had gathered to gawk at the newest resident on the street.  A sign was posted outside the house..only making it that much more evident that the child didn't have a name.  It was, in fact, the same sign that had greeted the first child to the house four years earlier...but now, instead of it saying, "Welcome Home Baby W #1"..it said, "Welcome Home Baby W #2".

An impromptu baby shower was then thrown in the living room.  The shopping trip that the neighbors had embarked on hours earlier was now coming to fruition.  The men folk began putting the crib together while the women oohed and ahhed over the child. 

The child that for the first two weeks of her life was known as Princess....because she still didn't have a name.

God's Plan?

My last post, along with the two comments I've gotten so far, has got me thinking.  Some AP's have said that it was God's plan that they adopt.  That is was God's plan for me that I didn't grow up with my natural family and instead grew up with abusive twitch-holes. 

But what of the fact that my afather was sterile?  Couldn't that have also been God's plan?  That God knew the kind of sick, twisted abusive father he'd be and wanted to "cut it off at the pass", so to speak? 

I think Linda said it best.."Plan A is to have your own kid. Plan B is adoption. Guess what?? Our ap's were our plan B, too."

As Luck Would Have It

My adoptive parents began trying to have children almost immediately after they got married in 1962.  My mother was 22 years old, my father 27.  For eight years they tried...and ultimately it was discovered that the reason for their infertility was my father.  He couldn't produce enough swimmies for fertilization to occur.

In 1970, after this crushing blow, they settled (yes, settled) on adoption.  Choosing an agency..working with a case worker..paying the fees.  Decided that they only wanted girl babies.  No boys.  I suppose that makes sense though..my mother grew up with two brothers and my father grew up with three brothers.  And how easy it was to check the box marked "Infant girls only" when filling out the paperwork.

My adoptive sister was born in April of 1970 and was placed in foster care for six weeks.  Cue the call from the adoption agency to my parents and VOILA..instant family.  Due to the agency's rules they had to wait for at least two years before putting their names in the hat again for another girl...and I'm pretty sure that two years to the day from my sister's homecoming is when they did just that. 

But two years is a long time to wait...and they grew impatient.  My mother's favorite story about my adoption is that she and my father were, literally, days away from calling the agency to tell them that they wanted to "cancel their order" and would have to be happy with just one child for now.  But then, as luck/fate/whatever would have it, they got the call on June 25th that there was a six day old infant girl available for pick up at the agency...

Random Bloggy Bits

I had another adoption blog a few years ago...one that I started right after my reunion journey began with my natural family.  I read some of the entries now and cringe wildly because of how "happy dappy" I made my childhood sound.  Having read this current blog, most of you will know that my life and childhood has been anything BUT "happy dappy".   I'm sad for myself that I felt like I had to lie..or omit the truth at least.

I gave my nmother the link to that old blog.  I wanted her to see how happy I was with having been found...wanted her to think that my childhood was perfect and the fairytale that she had wanted for me.

She knows differently now.  Knows of the abuse.  Loves me still.

I haven't told her about this blog.  I think I kind of decided that I needed a place where I could be completely honest with my feelings..and not feel the need to censor my words.  I've given the link to a few friends...but aside from one, I don't think they check in here anymore.  Not sure if that means I've become boring or not, but we'll go with "they're too busy"..lol. 

So, what would I do if my nmother ever found this particular blog?  Well, she does know that I'm still blogging...just doesn't know the URL of this one.  Hmmmm...I honestly don't think that I'd change the way I wrote it.  If I did, I'd be denying my feelings and I've made the decision to stop doing that.  She wants me to heal from the abuse..and this is one of the ways I do that.  She asks me how therapy is going..she is concerned about my emotional health..and loves that I have given myself an outlet to express what is going on in my soul.  Anything she wants to know..she asks.  And if there's something she's not quite ready to hear the answer to, well, she doesn't ask.  Yet.

To Re Or Not To Re(work) This Blog

I feel scatterbrained today.  Probably the main reason for that is that our Quarter just ended at work and everyone is hitting the reset button..takes a few days to recover from that...lol..make that a few days to a few weeks to recover.  I'm emotionally spent...even changing my blog template design the other day took all my energy and as hard as I tried, I couldn't seem to form a logical blog post, so rather than just post about mindless crap, I chose to give myself a break.

I've been reading my friends' blogs the past few days though and I've come to realize that I really haven't "told my story" here.  Not so that it's easy to follow anyway..and I'm frustrated.  See, my goal is to one day write a book..and if I can't even write my own truths down so they make sense, how in the world will I be able to write something that will capture the readers' attention?  Answer:  I can't.

So, if you're all up for it...I'd like to start at the beginning again.  Some of the upcoming blog posts will probably be redundant.  And for that, I apologize.  Just skip over the stupid parts.  Just don't tell me you skipped over them...I might get a complex ::grin:: .

Where should I start?  At the adoption agency?  My childhood?  My reunion??  Where?  Help! 

I'm totally open to suggestions.  After all, yes, I write this blog mostly for myself..but you are all very important to me..even those of you who read my posts and just shake your heads sometimes.  Hard to believe that not everyone is hanging on my every word..but I'm sure it's possible. 

For now, I'm going to enjoy my glass of wine/whine and wait for some responses.  Yes..I live for comments..so let me know what you are thinking.  Even if it's to tell me to shut up.  I can handle it.  Lol..usually.

ETA:  I love the title of this post..lol..I crack myself up.  Shakespeare is turning over in his grave.  Sorry dude.

Complimentary

The above quote is attributed to Judy Garland.

I've never done well with compliments.  Never.  I've always figured that people are just being nice when they tell me I'm pretty..or that I am intelligent...they can't mean it...not about me.  I'm the dumpy chick who never has the right clothes..or the right haircut.  I'm the girl who had the dogbone thrown at her in 7th grade...

Today though, I received a compliment that literally changed my perception of myself.  Not just any compliment though...one of the most touching, beautiful compliments I've ever heard.  I'm not quite sure if my friend Jen knows how much it meant to me...and I can't really express my emotions about it properly without sounding like a buffoon..but suffice to say, she had me crying at work.  I love you Jen.

She told me that she "loves my realness".  That I'm true to myself. 

Wow.  Me??

I've been called many things...but real is not one of them. 

I spent my entire life being something I wasn't...happy.  I pretended that things were wonderful growing up because that was what was expected of me.  I was a fraud. 

I'm learning how to speak up for myself.  I DO have feelings that I can share safely.  No one can take those emotions and feelings away from me.  I own them.  And rather than stifling them down..and locking them away in the treasure chest of my heart, I am opening Pandora's box and letting them be free.

It's still a work in progress..this journey to "realness".  But the fact that Jen sees that in me means that I'm doing something right.

So, thank you Jen...for helping me to believe in myself. 

To Lia

Well, how things can change after the click of the "Publish Post" button.

I guess I should have waited to see whether you actually were considering parenting your child..because that was where my response was coming from.  Judging from the comments I found out you tried to make on one of my adoptee friend's blogs, you have already made your mind up and are only looking for someone to tell you that you are making the right decision.

Sorry, that's not me.  Perhaps you should unfollow this blog because you won't get the "Oh, what a wonderful thing you are doing for your child".  You just won't. 

Telling someone to shut up because she was talking about HER mother on HER blog isn't going to make you any friends.

Lose my blog URL please.  Thanks.