tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73680596246322563652024-02-19T07:02:03.844-05:00Out of the FogCrickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.comBlogger285125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-12193010999517227742013-09-24T16:03:00.003-04:002013-09-24T16:03:31.057-04:00Cross Post From My Reunited Cricket Blog: Stop Saying That!!<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://reunitedcricket.blogspot.com/2013/09/stop-saying-that.html"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">STOP SAYING THAT!!</span></b></a></div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-74450846633825018552013-08-25T22:03:00.001-04:002013-08-25T22:03:26.800-04:00Continuing The JourneyI have decided to table my beloved "Out of the Fog" blog for awhile. I may be back but for now, I'm starting a new blog. I hope you'll follow me over there and spread the word!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.reunitedcricket.blogspot.com/">Reunited Cricket</a>Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-58223819485588747132013-07-11T20:27:00.002-04:002013-07-11T20:27:26.770-04:00This Blog Post Is Brought To You By The Number...Five.<br />
<br />
It's been five years to the day since I opened my Myspace inbox and read the email that would change my life forever. I can't believe that much time has passed. So much has changed for me.<br />
<br />
I found out that I have younger siblings. I was always referred to as the "baby" of my adoptive family. Now, I am the big sister of a sister and three brothers. Craziness. I never really put much stock in the birth order bunk, but it really makes me wonder if I would have been different being the oldest child rather than the youngest.<br />
<br />
I found out where I got the dark circles under my eyes and why I started going gray/white haired in my early twenties. I no longer had to look in the mirror and wonder who I looked like. It was singlehandedly the most awesome and unnerving thing at the same time. Sometimes in the early days of reunion, I had to pinch and remind myself that I DID know who I looked like now. I DO know who my mother is. <br />
<br />
I found out my birth story. When my kids' birthdays roll around, we spend at least a half hour reminiscing and talking about the day they were born. I can tell Maddie that her Auntie Cindy drove me to the hospital after my water broke and was able to hold my hand while I breathed, while driving a standard and timing my contractions. That she pushed a little old lady out the way so I could lean on the wall in the hospital so I didn't pass out from the pain. That it only took three pushes for her to make her entrance. I can tell Chase that he was born on his due date after having gone to the doctor's earlier that day to make an appointment for induction two days later. That they had to vacuum his fat head out of me while five residents stood around my bed since it was teaching night at the hospital..(sigh). I'd never had that. I'd bought into the story that the six days before I was adopted didn't mean anything. They mattered. I know that now. And now I also know that I was born at night after being told my whole life that I was born at 9:03 in the morning.<br />
<br />
I know why I am so clumsy. Nature vs. nurture. I am the girl who can trip on a perfectly flat surface. I blame it on air bubbles on the ground. My sister, mother and brother are just as clumsy...not to mention my kids. Maddie broke her foot right before kindergarten by tripping on a chair. My grandmother had to have a note from the doctor sent to the school when my mother was young, telling them that the bruises she had were from being a klutz, not from abuse..lol. <br />
<br />
My mother, sister and I all have cysts on our heads. Luckily we all have really long hair so you can't tell but it's nice to know I'm not alone. My adoptive sister used to tell me that I was growing horns. ::slow clap:: Good one.<br />
<br />
Want to know another fun fact I found out when my mother and I started communicating via email? We both use "..." a lot when we write. I noticed that right away...and it made me cry. It truly is the little things.<br />
<br />
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that four years ago today was the day my sister's fiancee passed away from an overdose. I think that's when I knew that I was needed and wanted by my natural family. After I got the news from Cate, I drove an hour and a half to their town and was able to spend that night holding Cate as she fell into an exhausted sleep. My mother had pulled me aside and told me, "No matter what doubts you have had about being a big sister...know that you have done an awe inspiring job today.".<br />
<br />
I mentioned both anniversaries on my FBook today. Both the five year anniversary of being found, and the four year anniversary of losing Keith. I have been incredibly happy and incredibly sad today.<br />
<br />
One of my natural aunts commented on my status..."Happy Found Day". Indeed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-33373287687275582642013-04-22T11:07:00.000-04:002013-04-22T11:07:53.305-04:00Squat's New With You?<br />
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I was looking at my FBook feed last night, feeling full from
the sub I’d just inhaled, and came across a challenge. A 30 Day Squat Challenge.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqFuI71O-uTEAimujTznzBSYAjPHzOwQ45fdrn9o76L7pvd18FQzx_edijim2iQiuntIdB_WupDvDBFrwUWEvLtkdY25TMZ-UJLcJhTWBTQFTdGCmB1aDx59BjsWSlCY0bbcqE_8rbZP5/s1600/SQUAT+CHALLENGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqFuI71O-uTEAimujTznzBSYAjPHzOwQ45fdrn9o76L7pvd18FQzx_edijim2iQiuntIdB_WupDvDBFrwUWEvLtkdY25TMZ-UJLcJhTWBTQFTdGCmB1aDx59BjsWSlCY0bbcqE_8rbZP5/s320/SQUAT+CHALLENGE.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I figured, what the hell, what can it hurt? I mean, there are rest days built into the
month so I can ease into this. And so,
today, I’m at 40 squats already and will work in the other 10 at some
point. Thankfully, the restroom at work
is rarely that busy so I’ll get them in when I’m alone in the stall..lol. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the good weather finally (fingers crossed that we don’t
get a freak blizzard this month) upon us, I’m going to start walking after work
as well as keeping up my golf obsession.
I’m really hopeful that this time will work. This time will be “MY” time to fix my weight
and my health. My wedding dress is
hanging in my daughter’s closet and at some point this year, I will be wearing
it. I know that Steven loves me, chunk
and all, but I want to love myself and love the way I look again. I pulled out a picture from Maddie’s first
birthday party..and I was thin, and at my healthiest. I have the picture taped to my wall in my
cube at work to show me that I can do this. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-23087568073896622412013-04-12T14:05:00.000-04:002013-04-12T14:05:00.564-04:00And The Beat Goes OnYesterday when we left off from the <a href="http://peaceofcricket.blogspot.com/2013/04/take-your-benevolent-neglect-and-shove.html">FBook War of Words</a> between me and my natural father's wife, we were discussing the fact that she believes my father treats her kindly with benevolent neglect...lol.<br />
<br />
I never responded to M's last comment to me...figured, what was the point?<br />
<br />
And then...<br />
<br />
My father actually jumped into the fray at nine o'clock last night.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father) Hello Christina, this is your father. I know that I deserve all of your anger and pained comments. It sucks to read about some asshole and his benevolent neglect all the while knowing it is true and it's you. I have never been comfortable with the fact that my past pretty much sucked and my method of coping is to bury the depressing aspects in my self-loathing. There is not a day that goes by that this state doesn't get in my way. It clouds my judgement and gets in the way of my happiness. My failures are mine not yours. I intend to attempt to repair our relationship! If you can find it in your heart to forgive, I will try to earn back your respect and love. Know this, I was thrilled to find you, I truly love you and if you can, please allow me this opportunity.</b></blockquote>
<div>
<br />
I didn't respond. I did leave my house and go for a long drive though because I wasn't sure WHAT to think. Still am at that place now but hopefully my head will clear as time goes on.<br />
<br />
And my natural mom posted her own status last night. If you didn't know why I love her so much, this should clinch it for you.<br />
<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Mom) FACTS: </b><b>I love my daughter. She is beautiful, brave, loving and articulate. I do not like to read things like "you seem like a lovely young woman, but..." No BUT...she IS. Does having a "chip on her shoulder" negate her loveliness? Nope. Is there actually a chip there? Nope. Being disappointed, hurt and let down and feeling or expressing those feelings does not give evidence of a chip. </b><b>Here's another fun fact...IF my daughter were to draw "a line in the sand"..I would jump it, fly over it, or crawl across it to reach her...she's worth that...and so much more. </b><b>Fact: You can make excuses for, justify, explain or rationalize the behaviors of someone...but you can't keep their promises for them..so all that energy you spend trying...is really just blowing smoke.</b><br /><b>more facts, you ask? why yes...don't mind if I add more...my daughter was in my world since before she was born....miles don't matter...never did. I may, at times, live in my own private Idaho....but there is always a spot in my world for my daughter.</b><b>Final fact? (I may add more later...but this is the last one for this post) </b><b>"benevolent Neglect" is an oxymoron!!</b><b>so...play nice, mind your business, keep your promises.</b></blockquote>
<br />
And then today, when M, my father's wife, logged onto FBook from work, her comments started flying.<br />
<br />
She didn't like my mom's status...clearly as these were her comments underneath it:<br />
<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father's Wife) Okay, that is enough. I am out of the middle of all this; I don't know what any of you all's expectations are, but Facebook is NOT the place to air these personal things! Enough, please! We are human beings too, you know. I really don't know either of you and do not have the means to travel and visit in order to get to know you. I have not said anything mean spirited to anyone and would appreciate the same from you, too, (natural mom's name). Enough!</b></blockquote>
<br />And then, a minute later..this...(after no one had said anything to her).<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father's Wife) YOU play nice!</b></blockquote>
<br />And again, an hour later (again, no one said anything to her).<br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#"></a><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father's Wife) Stop attacking me! I am going to go and sage myself now.....!</b></blockquote>
<br />
Still following the drama? I wish I could say it ended there but she then commented on my original status under my natural father's comment to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father's Wife) You should know that P has not been able to log into his FB account for a long time; that is why he has sent the message above using mine. Likely, he'll have open another one, but that message is from him, right hand to God. Also, if you did not want me to show him your message, then why post it on FB for everyone to see? Just saying...(I know you are hurt and angry and I can see you are in pain. I am sorry that you feel those things, but I cannot say that I blame you in any way). Now, please let there be peace among us.</b></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>(Me ) Not sure why you are upset with me M. You commented on my status, I replied back. I don't think I was disrespectful or deserved what you just wrote at all.</i></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father's Wife) Honey you are the one who posted the whole thing on FB. Perhaps a private message would have been more appropriate? I am not angry at all with you. Please read every word of my posts; I am all about peace and love and light and acceptance! Please understand that and know that is what I only ever wish for you, too! I am bowing out of the middle of this; P has left you a message above. This is between the two of you, okay honey? Wishing you the best of everything always!</b></blockquote>
<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>(Me) I posted a status...you began commenting. I see nothing wrong with what I wrote. You had the choice to simply read the status to P, but instead kept commenting. I get where you are coming from to a certain extent...after all, I could have written P a private message that he never would gotten anyway, right? I didn't ask for you to step in the middle. </i></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>(Natural Father's Wife) It was a comment disguised as an attack. It is only natural that I would try to talk with you and defend the man I know and love. I simply told you that he did love you and but he isn't a demonstrative type of person. This has escalated far enough. Take care.<br /><br />(Natural Father's Wife) It meant to say an attack disguised as a comment...</b><br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#"></a><br /><i>(Me) I was not attacking you. Simply stating that this was not a case of me being the water and him being the horse. It's not as cut and dry as that. One person's perception is another's reality.</i></blockquote>
That's it...that's all she wrote.<br />
<br />
By the way, I changed my status to "I love unicorns, rainbows and puppies! <3".<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-46698028044859458772013-04-11T15:59:00.000-04:002013-04-11T15:59:13.358-04:00Take Your Benevolent Neglect and Shove ItLast night I decided that I am completely done with my natural father. I had left my profile up that I had created when we first made contact because part of me was always hoping that he'd come around...but I realized that I was doing more harm than good to my heart.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My father's wife is one of my friends on that profile, as is my natural mom. She calls me "dear heart" all the time which rubs me the wrong way because while it sounds nice in theory, truthfully it feels patronizing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I put up the following status last night on that page...and tagged my father and mom.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<blockquote>
<i>Pretty much done. Tired of talking around the issue and not
getting anything in response from the one person who should be explaining
himself. I have given my heart and my love and gotten crapped on in return. This
profile will be deleted soon and I will move on.<br />Not going happily...but it
seems like it's pointless to keep it up when I have another one where I have my
friends and family, both <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">adoptive and natural, on it..and who are proud to call
me their daughter, sister, friend.</span><br />Your loss. Not mine. I truly thought that I'd found another piece of my puzzle, but it appears I was mistaken. I found a corner piece that belonged to another puzzle from another box.<br /> <br />I would have loved to have heard stories of my father's natural family. Would have loved to have experienced the same type of loving reunion and total acceptance that I have enjoyed with my mother. Alas, it's just not to be.<br /> <br />I have given up that dream. — with (Natural mom's name) and (Natural father's name)</i></blockquote>
<br />
So then, this morning the comment war started. Sigh. <br />
<br />
My father's wife's comments are <b>BOLD</b> and my responses are in<i> ITALICS.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
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<b><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][1]">(Father's wife) </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]">I'm
sorry Christina. I will be passing this message on to P today. He hasn't
looked at FB in a really long time. He just doesn't do much of anything except
work. Sad really...You know you can lead a horse to water....take care dear
heart!</span></b></div>
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<b><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[0]"><a class="uiLinkSubtle" data-ft="{"tn":"N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/christina.worthington.5/posts/430272303671666?comment_id=4282574&offset=0&total_comments=6" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[0].[0]"><abbr class="livetimestamp" content="6 hours ago" data-utime="1365685582" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[0].[0].0" title="Thursday, April 11, 2013 at 9:06am">6 hours ago</abbr></a></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[1]">
· </span><a class="UFILikeLink" content="Like" data-ft="{"tn":">"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/christina.worthington.5?ref=tn_tnmn#" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282574}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[2]" role="button" title="Like this comment">Like</a></b></div>
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<i><a aria-label="Edit or Delete" class="uiCloseButton UFICommentCloseButton UFIEditButton" data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-alignh="center" href="https://www.facebook.com/christina.worthington.5?ref=tn_tnmn#" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282618}.0.[1].0.[0].0" role="button"></a></i></div>
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<i>(Me)<span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282618}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][1]">
</span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282618}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]">I
am not water, and he is not a horse Mavis. I am his daughter and he is my
father. And I don't really care if you say something to him or not about what I
wrote. I know it won't make a difference.</span></i></div>
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<div class="UFICommentContent" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0]">
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0].[0]"><b>(Father's wife) I
wasn't calling you water nor him a horse Christina. I was only saying that you
can put something in front of someone and it's up to them to partake or not.
But, you are wrong in your judgement of him. He is a loving man and I know that
he has love</b></span></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3].0"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282732}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3].0.[0]"><b>
in his heart for you and completely accepts you as his daughter. He is, however,
a very inattentive man. P doesn't pay attention to my daughters (or me
either for that matter) (</b><i>Her daughters are not P's children</i><b>), but we know that he is a loving man. P is the kind
of man that is taciturn and thrives most in his relationships on benevolent
neglect. I am sure you are a lovely young woman but it seems you want to draw a
line in the sand. It seems that there is a chip on your shoulder about all this
from your response above as well as not a small amount of anger. I can't claim
to know what it is like for you but I am trying to understand. However, line in
the sand or not, that is your choice. I don't expect you to understand him and I
know that you want more of a full relationship with P than there is now. I
hope that someday that will happen. He is a very imperfect human being as are we
all. He has his challenges just like all the rest of us. These things are
certainly not in my power but I wish you brightest blessings always no matter
what you do.</b></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<i><a aria-label="Edit or Delete" class="uiCloseButton UFICommentCloseButton UFIEditButton" data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-alignh="center" href="https://www.facebook.com/christina.worthington.5?ref=tn_tnmn#" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282888}.0.[1].0.[0].0" role="button"></a></i></div>
<div id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282888}.0.[1].0.[1]">
<div id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282888}.0.[1].0.[1].0">
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<i>(Me)<span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282888}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][1]">
</span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282888}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]">The
thing is, I'm not just "something" that he can choose to partake in or not. I
only wish that I'd known about his tendency towards "benevolent neglect" before
I started talking to him as I probably wouldn't have gotten my hopes
up.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="UFICommentActions fsm fwn fcg" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282888}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1]">
<i><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0].[0]">Am
I drawing a line in the sand now? Yes. But it's been two years since my last
contact with him so I'm not really sure that HE wasn't the one who drew the
original line in the sand. For you to say that I have a chip on my shoulder just
proves that </span></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3].0"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3].0.[0]">you
don't understand the pain that this has caused and how much self control it has
taken not to "take my ball and go home" months ago. Should I NOT have anger
towards P? Should I just accept P's avoidance as his way of showing
love? Perhaps that works for you and for your daughters, but that isn't how love
is conveyed in my world. Love is given freely and without excuses. I apologize
if you have thought that I am angry at you. I am not. I feel sorry for you, to
be honest. How sad to have to live with "benevolent neglect" on a daily basis
and not realize that you deserve more. I deserve more and I am simply taking
care of my heart here.</span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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· </span><a ajaxify="/ajax/edits/browser/comment?comment_token=430272303671666_4282900" aria-controls="js_1" aria-haspopup="true" aria-label="Show edit history" aria-owns="js_1" class="uiLinkSubtle" content="Edited" data-hover="tooltip" href="https://www.facebook.com/christina.worthington.5?ref=tn_tnmn#" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[0].[2][1]" rel="dialog" role="button" title="Show edit history">Edited</a></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4282900}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[1]">
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<li class="UFIRow UFIComment UFILastComment UFILastCommentComponent" data-ft="{"tn":"R"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}"><b>(Father's Wife)<span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][1]">
</span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[0].[0]">That
I do understand. And, yes, it did seem as though you were angry with me for
something I cannot change. Do I respect him for the way he proceeds? No, I
don't. But, I have been with him for fourteen years and I have a complete sense
of myself th</span></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3]"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3].0"><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[3].0.[0]">at
doesn't need his attention. I do know that he loves me and he treats me kindly
always. I don't want or need your pity nor that of anyone else, though. My life
is full and I am not unhappy. Unfortunately, P does not live in your world.
We are hundreds of miles apart and he does not have a communicative gene in him.
You can be angry with him all you like. But I do pray that light and love
continue to be with you always,
Christina.</span></span></span></span></span></b></li>
</ul>
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ago</abbr></a></span><span id=".reactRoot[7].[1][3][1]{comment430272303671666_4283025}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[1].[1]">
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So, now what? I know my natural mom is going to jump into the fray and I'm not going to stop her. When she talked to P after she found him on FBook, he told her he was in this for the long haul and wasn't going to leave me high and dry. Sadly, that's exactly what has happened. And what the hell is "benevolent neglect"? Neglect is neglect, no matter how you try and slice it.</div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-87337143443821104432013-03-18T05:25:00.003-04:002013-03-18T05:25:34.386-04:00Making A List ~ Post One <strong>"List all the names you've been called, endearing and not so."</strong><br />
<br />
Princess<br />
Crissy<br />
Chrissy<br />
Cricket<br />
Crick<br />
Friff<br />
Steener<br />
Pissy<br />
Prissy<br />
Honey<br />
Mom<br />Mommy<br />
Mumma<br />
Sweetheart<br />
B*tch<br />
C*nt<br />
Bestie<br />
CW<br />
CDubs<br />
Idiot<br />
Chris<br />
<br />
<br />
*I'm open to answering questions about any of the names on this list...although, I'm sure some of them speak for themselves.*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-33985570505780365222013-03-17T20:20:00.000-04:002013-03-17T20:20:59.729-04:00Opening Myself UpWay back when I was applying to colleges, writing my essays, one of the institutions asked me to "Describe who you really are".<br />
<br />
Ugh. I had a hard time with writing that one because honestly, I didn't know who I was. In many ways, I still don't. In many ways, I've been stuck as the scared little girl who took on whatever persona I thought would keep me safe. As a side note, whatever I wrote was enough for that college as I got in with a pretty hefty scholarship..lol.<br />
<br />
Tonight I went out to Big Name Book Store and bought myself a new journal for writing and a book entitled "List Your Self; Listmaking as the Way to Self-Discovery", written by Ilene Segalove and Paul Bob Velick. I'm going to use the writing prompts in that book here on this blog so one day I can hopefully say, THIS is who I am. THIS is who I was meant to be.<br />
<br />
I'm not convinced that I'll be able to stick to the list format though. But I'm not going to come down too hard on myself for that. Just the simple fact that I WANT to write again means something.<br />
<br />
I'm thinking that maybe I'll make this into a meme. That means that anyone who follows me can join in and do their own lists on their own blogs. Maybe? Maybe not? Let's see how things go for me first, shall we?<br />
<br />
My next post will be the beginning of this experiment...stay tuned!<br />
<br />
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-49296548200520473842013-03-01T07:45:00.000-05:002013-03-01T07:45:24.132-05:00Oh Brother!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back in October, <a href="http://peaceofcricket.blogspot.com/2012/11/searching-for-something-nablopomo.html">I found my natural paternal brother,D</a>. I emailed him…but didn’t hear back.
Honestly, it didn’t look like he’d checked his FBook in months, so I
wasn’t really surprised. I looked on his
friend list to see if my other brother was there, but didn’t see his name. Hmmm..back to square one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So now we fast forward to last week. I checked a few of D’s friends on the off
chance that one of THEM was friends with M, my other brother, and OMG.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found him. He’s a
tattoo artist based out of Virginia. I
emailed him..trying to break the news of my existence very gently, even paying
the lousy $1.00 to get my FBook email to his regular inbox instead of that
stupid “Other” one. I waited on pins
and needles for a response. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then, finally, four hours later…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh cool!! Nice to
meet ya Christina!! :-) “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wrote back that I was so glad he’d gotten my message and
that is was great to meet him too. I
haven’t written him further because I am not sure what to say. I don’t want to scare him off. I have a billion questions but somehow can’t
seem to formulate a complete thought when it comes to this. I want to ask about D…want to reassure them
both that I’m not going to write our father about any of this because they, like
me, are estranged from him. But how to
bring that up?...especially because he
didn’t write back after I did… I’m feeling all adopted and shit and am not sure
whether he’s truly happy or whether he’s just being kind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
AAAAAAAAAAARGH…lol. I’m
a frigging train wreck.<o:p></o:p></div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-8341818680028940652013-02-12T09:20:00.002-05:002013-02-12T09:20:55.854-05:00Take Me Or Leave Me<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wow. I never expected
my last post to generate so many comments, but I wanted to thank each and every
person who commented as it just goes to show that there are many varying
opinions about abortion and adoption and what is acceptable to write about out there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All I can say is that this blog is my chance to offer you MY
opinions. Just me. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me all
the time, or even part of the time. That’s
not why I’m here. I’m here to get my
feelings and emotions out, regardless of what POWERDAD may think..lol. I’m an adoptee and I’m a survivor. I have a right to my opinions, just like all
of you have a right to yours. Don’t want
to hear what I have to say? That’s fine…just
click on the “X” at the top of the screen and be gone. It’s as easy as that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did have just a few things I wanted to say before I hit “Publish”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>POWERDAD:</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t think of myself as a victim. Like I said above, I am a survivor. I am not strong because I am adopted…I am
strong in spite of it. And regardless of
how you try to spin my words, I do acknowledge that there are certain
circumstances where children cannot live with their natural families. As I stated in my comments on the below post,
I believe in guardianship. Give a child
a family but do not take away their heritage and their link to their natural
families. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Chris:</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am really glad you have been reading my blog, but I cannot
change the way I am or how I talk or write.
I’m sorry if you disagree with me commenting on other’s blogs but isn’t
that the whole point of blogs anyway? I
cannot promise that I won’t continue to point out other blogs or sites that I
don’t agree with. Again, that’s my right..just
as it’s everyone else’s right to link to my blog to call me out on something they
take offense to. And for the record, I’m
discouraged by the conversation as well.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Colleen:</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did visit your blog and saw the video of you campaigning
outside of the abortion clinic. You have
your thoughts on the matter and I have mine.
Clearly we will never agree…and while I am a bit appalled by your
methods, you’re entitled to preach your God’s words any way you’d like. Please don’t tell me that I’m not Christian or
am evil because I don’t go along with your way of thinking though. Judge not, lest ye be judged, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-6154359641390049582013-02-05T08:43:00.001-05:002013-02-05T08:43:44.034-05:00So ClicheI'm wondering if I should put some rainbows and unicorns on the background of my blog and take out any references to my adoptive family so that when I comment on an adoptive parent's blog and they come here to check me out they won't immediately jump on the fact that I wasn't brought up in a happy dappy home. Sigh. <br />
<br />
I commented on a blog (that I'd actually commented on a few weeks ago, linking to the Open Letter at the top of my blog) yesterday. It was one of those posts that just eats you up inside. <br />
<br />
I give full credit for the post to the author...no one else would want that credit anyway. (Lol..at least I can keep my sense of humor). <br />
<br />
So anyway, I replied to a comment the author had left in response to someone else (still with me?) and got a scathing (insert big ass eye roll) comment in return. <br />
<br />
Get to the point Christina..lol. I know, I know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold" target="_blank">Here's the post...</a><br />
<br />
I'm copying and pasting the comments in question. I'm not sure who "a face in the crowd" is but at least they tried. I'm the "elenakatherine" in the equation, in case you've been hiding under a rock for the past three years..haha. I'll be bolding the adoption cliches that we've all heard before but this is an excellent example of all the cliches rolled up into one place by one adoptive parent. Please let me know if I miss any. ;)<br />
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<br />
<span class="fn"><a class="url" href="http://iamnotagift.wordpress.com/" rel="external nofollow">a face in the crowd</a></span> on <a href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/#comment-1859"><time datetime="2013-01-23T09:46:01+00:00">January 23, 2013 at 9:46 am</time></a> <span class="says">said:</span><br />
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You do realize, don’t you, that ANY human being on the face of this earth could have been aborted? This isn’t an alternate fate relegated only to adoptees. As an adoptee myself, I get tired of hearing this from every single person who discovers I am adopted. “You are so lucky, you could have been aborted!!” they will proclaim, when yes, I think this is something that has crossed my mind once or twice. It seems to me (from what you have written) that your son’s mother never even once considered abortion – so to thank her now for not choosing something she didn’t choose to begin with? Seems like a slap in the face. To her, and your son.</div>
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<a class="comment-reply-link" href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/?replytocom=1859#respond">Reply ↓</a></div>
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<ul class="children">
<li class="comment byuser comment-author-littlesoul2 bypostauthor odd alt depth-2 highlander-comment" id="li-comment-1860"><article class="comment" id="comment-1860"><footer class="comment-meta"><div class="comment-author vcard">
<img alt="" class="avatar avatar-39 grav-hashed grav-hijack" height="39" id="grav-c9a4f12e6b84474846c8fb07dfd126ee-1" src="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/c9a4f12e6b84474846c8fb07dfd126ee?s=39&d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D39&r=G" width="39" /><span class="fn"><a class="url" href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/" rel="external nofollow">littlesoul2</a></span> on <a href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/#comment-1860"><time datetime="2013-01-23T18:27:25+00:00">January 23, 2013 at 6:27 pm</time></a> <span class="says">said:</span></div>
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Hello, and thank you for commenting. Yes, I do realize that <em>any</em> child conceived has the potential to be aborted. But, <b>“unplanned” babies are certainly at the highest risk…whereas those who are “welcomed” </b>may perhaps face abortion if they are later deemed not perfect by today’s standards.<br />
<b>For the <em>unplanned</em> child in the womb, there are basically three fates awaiting him/her: the mother will decide to carry the child to term and raise her child herself or with the support of family members; the mother chooses to abort the child (this is the choice for close to one out of three pregnancies in the U.S.), the mother realizes that she does not have the resources (emotional, financial, family support, etc.) to care for her child, but finds killing her own baby abhorrent, and so she makes an adoption plan. This is the rarest of the three choices..by far.</b><br />
Before abortion was legalized, it was not even difficult to adopt multiple children. The family who lived next door to us when I was growing up had four adopted children. But in the 1970′s, waiting lists to adopt became almost endless, and the wait itself often dragged on for years. Many couples eventually gave up.<br />
Why did this happen? Part of the reason is that changing values made it more acceptable for unmarried women to bear and keep their children. But we know what else happened. We know because we have statistics from the Center for Disease Control and the Alan Guttmacher Institute which have set the number of surgical abortions since 1973 at over 55 million.<br />
<b>Before abortion was legalized, many of these millions of aborted babies would have been placed for adoption. So, you see, there is a connection.</b><br />
My son is an only child, and neither he nor his dad and I wanted it that way. <b>We re-applied to adopt a second child when he was two, but were simply told, “there are no babies…</b>” The agency had placed only six infants the entire previous year. <b>Surely you are aware of tens of thousands of couples traveling out of the US and adopting children from all over the world. Sadly, this is extremely expensive, and many who wish to adopt cannot afford to go this route.</b><br />
Having said all of that, I can understand your resentment at being singled out as a <em>special case</em>…an “abortion survivor,” when perhaps you were never in danger of abortion at all. But, there can be no denying that nowadays, <b>millions of babies do meet their deaths in the womb when 40 years ago, they would have been protected by law, and placed for adoption or raised by extended family.</b><br />
But, let me make it clear that I do not think infertile couples have a <em>right</em> to anyone else’s child. Our infertility is our own problem, and it is no one else’s responsibility to provide us with a “ready made” family. <b>However, when a woman like my son’s birth mother chooses to give her baby to a couple longing for a child, well that is an inestimable gift.</b> I have read your blog, so I know you don’t like that term “gift,” but I assure you that <b><em>every</em> child is a GIFT..whether born into its biological family, or entering it through adoption. <em>All children are gifts from God</em>..in my lexicon.</b><br />
Finally, I would never presume to ask my son’s birth mother if she had ever considered abortion. However, she appreciated my husband’s poem so much that she kept it for twenty years, and even brought it to her reunion with our son. She also made his birth father a copy…and me as well. And my son, well<b> he has always realized that being adopted makes him a bit different in some ways, but he knows that he is loved by the family who raised him as well as the woman and man who gave him life.</b> Now that he is married, <b>hopefully he will one day have children in whom he will experience both blood and family united, and that for him will be a special joy.</b><br />
I wish you well in finding peace with your own situation. Please feel free to comment here at anytime. Thank you and God bless!</div>
<div class="reply">
<a class="comment-reply-link" href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/?replytocom=1860#respond">Reply ↓</a></div>
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<li class="comment byuser comment-author-elenakatherine even depth-3 highlander-comment" id="li-comment-1904"><article class="comment" id="comment-1904"><footer class="comment-meta"><div class="comment-author vcard">
<img alt="" class="avatar avatar-39 grav-hashed grav-hijack" height="39" id="grav-d0ea996320a072f04a7bdf19ba4f6814-0" src="http://1.gravatar.com/avatar/d0ea996320a072f04a7bdf19ba4f6814?s=39&d=http%3A%2F%2F1.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D39&r=G" width="39" /><span class="fn"><a class="url" href="http://blogsofshame.wordpress.com/" rel="external nofollow">elenakatherine</a></span> on <a href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/#comment-1904"><time datetime="2013-02-04T08:06:01+00:00">February 4, 2013 at 8:06 am</time></a> <span class="says">said:</span></div>
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What strikes me is that you tried to adopt again..but there were no more babies. If you truly wanted to help find a family for unplanned children, why wouldn’t you have adopted out of foster care? Truly unbelievable.<br />
And, that son you adopted, has two families. The one that he was born into and the one he got put into. Both real…both equally as important.</div>
<div class="reply">
<a class="comment-reply-link" href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/?replytocom=1904#respond">Reply ↓</a></div>
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<li class="comment byuser comment-author-littlesoul2 bypostauthor odd alt depth-4 highlander-comment" id="li-comment-1916"><article class="comment" id="comment-1916"><footer class="comment-meta"><div class="comment-author vcard">
<img alt="" class="avatar avatar-39 grav-hashed grav-hijack" height="39" id="grav-c9a4f12e6b84474846c8fb07dfd126ee-2" src="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/c9a4f12e6b84474846c8fb07dfd126ee?s=39&d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D39&r=G" width="39" /><span class="fn"><a class="url" href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/" rel="external nofollow">littlesoul2</a></span> on <a href="http://theholyfaceofjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/this-world-needs-a-heart-of-gold/#comment-1916"><time datetime="2013-02-04T23:26:21+00:00">February 4, 2013 at 11:26 pm</time></a> <span class="says">said:</span></div>
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Elena, <b>I am astonished at how angry you seem to be at me</b>…a stranger. I do believe that I heard from you a few weeks ago, when you left me a link to a long post on your blog about <b>how dreadful adoption is for all adoptees</b>, etc. I did read every word of it carefully. Obviously <b>you, and those you associate with have very deep and painful feelings about having been adopted</b>. I am so sorry that you are suffering, but <b>it is not true that <em>all</em> adoptees feel the same way</b>.<b> I have known many adopted young adults who have no interest in even finding their biological parents.</b> Each person is unique, and each will have a different experience in adoption. I am so sorry yours has been hurtful.<br />
My own son enjoyed the search for his biological roots, but once re-connected with his birth parents he was satisfied, and for several years now has only casual contact with them. <b>That is his choice….as is the decision regarding “which” family is more important to him.</b><br />
It is strange that you would think it “truly unbelievable” that my husband and I did not adopt out of foster care. Having a biological child as well as adopting <em>any</em> child is a most personal decision. Only the people involved know their own strengths and capacities. It is certainly not for others to judge.<br />
Elena, <b>I do hope you can find peace with the past that you cannot change</b>. You look quite young, and so have so much life to live. I pray it will be beautiful for you…and I wish you well. Peace.<br />
PS Elena, I just visited your blog and read a few posts. I learned that you did not grow up in a very loving adoptive home, and in fact referred to it as “abusive.” In that case, I can certainly understand where you are coming from. <b>Please know that your bad experience surely has impacted your views on adoption</b>. I agree that being adopted, even under the best circumstances, can be a challenge, but in a truly loving home, <b>an adopted child and his adoptive parents really can become a real family</b>.<br />
I am happy that you have re-connected with your mom and extended family. Sounds like that worked great for you! And..most of all, so happy you have your own little ones to love. I look forward to that for my son…family that he not only loves, but also can “see” himself in. We couldn’t give him that. <b>But he does own our hearts</b>. Wishing you only happiness…</div>
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Sigh. So many thoughts running through my head. First and foremost, what I want people to take away from this post is this:</div>
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It doesn't matter about my childhood. It doesn't matter what kind of home life I had...AT ALL. I lost my heritage. I lost my rights to my original birth certificate. I lost my family. And yes, I have reunited with my mother and my siblings. I do have a beautiful life in spite of being adopted, not because of it</div>
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And by the way, "littlesoul2", that <a href="http://peaceofcricket.blogspot.com/p/open-letter-to-aps-paps-and-anyone-who.html">Open Letter</a> you read? That letter was supposed to make you think...not get defensive. It makes me sad that most (not all, because I know I have awesome readers who read this blog and can understand where I am coming from) adoptive parents read my posts and just dismiss me as an angry person. There's a difference between being angry and having anger. I have anger towards the adoption industry as a whole. She said it herself, "there were no more babies". GOOD, I say. You know what that means? It means that more mothers were keeping their children...it means that instead of "making the ultimate loving sacrifice", more women were realizing that they'd rather abort the child than condemn them to a life of missing out on their family.
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<br />Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-52872846982464664412013-02-04T16:19:00.001-05:002013-02-04T16:19:33.602-05:00Apparently, I’m In A Foul Mood Today A.K.A. Get It Straight<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a car. It’s MY
car..not yours. I own a house with my fiance. It’s OUR house, not yours. I have a job.
Granted, it sucks, but it is still MY job, not yours. I have parents (several of them, in
fact). They are MY parents, not yours. This computer I’m typing on? MINE…all MINE..and NOT YOURS.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And for the record, that woman who is giving you her child
via the “miracle of adoption”…is not YOUR birth mother. She is your adopted child’s mother. And while I’m sure it makes things seem all
cozy in your world to call her YOURS…it’s just not right to refer to her that
way.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I can’t tell you the number of times I have read
adoptive/potential adoptive parent’s blogs in which they say, “We talked to our birth mother today!”. No, you talked to
an expectant woman who may or may not decide to hand over their child to your
care. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sigh. Just stop it
already.<o:p></o:p></div>
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**I LOATHE the words "birth mother" used in combination but figured I would use them for emphasis.</div>
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<br /></div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-26218249743827498932013-02-04T14:11:00.002-05:002013-02-04T14:11:46.649-05:00Unreal<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
After I had my daughter back in 2000, I couldn’t imagine
loving anyone as fiercely or as much as her.
She was amazing (still is, but I’m biased..lol) and I cherished every
moment of her babyhood and toddler years, even when the Terrible Two’s hit with
a scary vengeance. Then I became pregnant
with my son…and rather than have to make room for him in my heart, I was in awe
of the way my heart expanded and multiplied a thousand-fold for this new tiny
being. Having grown up in a household
where love was considered a privilege and not something to be given out freely,
I didn’t understand the “Love multiplies” phenomenon until I experienced it
firsthand. I don’t love one of my children
more than the other. I just love. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Perhaps that’s why I get so frustrated when I read adoptive
parents getting angry and proclaiming, “WE’RE her parents! We are raising her..we are the ones who take
care of her on a daily basis! Us! We!
Me! Me! Me!”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Why is it that as parents, we can say, I don’t love one of
my children more than the other…but when it comes to children having more than
one set of parents, as do all adoptees, or children whose parents have remarried,
or in the case of my children, have a man (my fiancé) who has been in their
lives almost forever, suddenly there is a contest for who is the best. Why can’t we just agree that love is love is
love is love and get on with life?<o:p></o:p></div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-21843318539329327372013-01-25T10:07:00.004-05:002013-01-25T10:07:56.472-05:00Follow Me Where I Go<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back in August of last year, I started a new blog. I posted there a few times but then pretty
much forgot about it because I lost track of things and could not seem to keep up with
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because of my newly found blogging spark, I’m trying
again. It’s entirely possible that once
that one is fully up and going, I will permanently retire this one and see
where the other one goes. I can’t
promise that all the posts over there won’t contain a lot of the same material
that this one does. But maybe if I
rework some of my posts, they’ll come across less angry and more thought
provoking. Again, no promises as I AM
angry but maybe there’s a way to tame things down a little?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I hope you all with follow me over there too and let me know
what you think.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have titled the blog “Becoming Elena”. It seems to fit…and perhaps the reason that I
can’t seem to blog coherently here anymore is because I truly am out of the
adoption fog that I was born into. I’ll
always be Christina…but I’ll also always be Elena.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And so, dear readers and cherished friends, I give you “<a href="http://becomingelena.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Becoming Elena</a>”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<grin><o:p></o:p></div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-75945210958271037952013-01-23T18:23:00.000-05:002013-01-23T18:23:50.020-05:00HumbledIt's been a few months since I've blogged. I had the best intentions to keep going through November, using the prompts at <a href="http://www.thelostdaughters.com/" target="_blank">Lost Daughters</a> to light my creative spark. Alas, I didn't do that. I stopped writing and I couldn't bring myself to come back to say, "Hey, sorry for ANOTHER long hiatus".<br />
<br />
I came to a crossroads. I began to think that maybe it was time to retire this blog and figure out something else to do. I mean, I have a huge basket of yarn that I should be using to crochet...I have a Kindle Fire that is loaded with books that I am itching to read. I have a ton of excuses. <br />
<br />
But then, something happened yesterday that changed my mind about packing up and getting the hell outta Dodge.<br />
<br />
I received an email...from a stranger. A stranger who seemed to know just what I needed to hear at just the right moment.<br />
<br />
He had read <a href="http://peaceofcricket.blogspot.com/p/open-letter-to-aps-paps-and-anyone-who.html" target="_blank">the open letter written by an online friend and fellow adoptee</a>...and it had moved him enough to write me. Neither as an adopter..nor as an adoptee...but as a human being. Truthfully, he'd thought I'd written the letter...which I was truly humbled by as I feel like I don't express myself nearly as well as my friend did. But then he sent a second email, telling me that he realized after the fact that I hadn't written it but wanted to thank me anyway for my openness on my blog.<br />
<br />
I responded...and thanked him for helping to renew my faith in humanity and my blog and the work that I want to do here. <br />
<br />
He let me know that he wants to share my blog with members of his church who have adopted children and who are thinking of adopting so they can get a clearer picture of what the other side of adoption looks like.<br />
<br />
I was touched by his candor and his willingness to open himself up to me and I can only pray that I can do the same from now on.<br />
<br />
Thank you newfound friend...from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.<br />
<br />Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-27078464760809045772012-11-20T08:35:00.000-05:002012-11-20T08:35:13.149-05:00Green With Envy ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 20<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><em>Nobody’s perfect and sometimes we become jealous of other people (just as others
become jealous of us). Has a non-adopted person told you they were jealous of
you (due to adoption)? If so, how did that make you feel? How did you respond?
If you are in reunion, has jealousy come into play at all? For example, if you
have siblings, have they expressed jealousy about a difference in lifestyle? Are
you jealous of them? How do you handle this? If you are not in reunion, do you
harbor any jealousy toward anyone? If not, why do you think that is?</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It's funny because most of the comments I get about being adopted or adoption related situations comes from people I've met online. I have heard the "I've always wished I was adopted..my family drives me crazy sometimes!" line more times than I can count. It hurts, to be honest. I mean, how can someone wish they had grown up with a family that was not their own? How could you want to have a fake birth certificate or not know what happened to you in the hospital in the six days after you were given up by your mother and before you were dropped in the laps of strangers in a cold adoption agency waiting room? I will never understand someone wanting that to be their story. And on a more personal level, as the survivor of abuse at the hands of my adoptive parents, I want to shake them and say, "Your life is fine! I would give anything to have grown up with my natural family to have been spared the pain I suffered!". I do try to explain that to the misguided people who believe the grass is greener on the adoptee's side of the fence but I know that it probably falls on deaf ears.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In regards to my adoptive siblings, they have never expressed jealousy towards my being adopted. They adore my mother and she adores them...and me. It may have something to do with the way they found out about me though.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My mother and their father got divorced when the kids were little and he had visitation every other weekend. When my brother Greg was six and my sister Cate was three, he was driving them home after their visit. He said to them, "Make sure you are good for Mommy so she doesn't give you away. She gave away one bad baby already." Can't really blame them for not wanting to be adopted, can you?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial;">But on the flip side, I fully admit that I <strong>am</strong> jealous of them. They grew up with my mother in a house full of love and of acceptance. They were allowed to make mistakes and to grow from them without fear of being hit or screamed at. They got to experience unconditional love...something I only learned was possible when I gave birth to both of my own children. I don't harbor some deep resentment against them for their upbringing though. I'm glad they didn't have to go through what I did. </span><br />
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-1339213639239001622012-11-19T14:53:00.001-05:002012-11-19T14:54:33.606-05:00Giving Thanks ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 19<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://i449.photobucket.com/albums/qq214/cherieww812/funny_turkey-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="http://i449.photobucket.com/albums/qq214/cherieww812/funny_turkey-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i449.photobucket.com/albums/qq214/cherieww812/funny_turkey-1.gif" /></a>Thanksgiving was always a big deal at our house growing up. The holidays were the only times of the year that we could put our guards down and enjoy ourselves. Usually my father's family (uncles, aunts, cousins, grandmother) would travel to our house for dinner and the week before Thanksgiving was always a busy time for my mother, sister and I. We'd clean the house top to bottom and I could lose myself in the sound of the vacuum and the accompanying holiday music my mother would put on her record player. <br />
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It was my job to make the table look pretty for the guests..using the special plates, glasses and candles while my mother sang along to the music in the kitchen making the pies and stuffing and bread. It was also my job to dust all of the wood furniture in the house...to this day, I can't stand the smell of lemon because of the long hours of inhaling Lemon Pledge on my hands and knees. ;)</div>
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Then the family would arrive and the wine would start to flow, putting my parents in even better moods. It was during those moments that I felt "normal". This was how it was supposed to be all the time. I wish it had been.</div>
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-87620342095185610762012-11-18T14:34:00.000-05:002012-11-19T14:38:15.130-05:00Siblings ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 18<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My adoptive sister, Cindy<br />
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Do you have siblings in your adoptive family? Were they also adopted or not? What was your relationship like in regards to adoption? If you are in reunion, did you find siblings as part of your search? How you been affected by your sibling relationships? If you searched and found siblings, and had adoptive siblings, what has that been like? If you don’t have siblings, have you found any benefits to being an only child?<br />
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My adoptive sister Cindy is four years older than me. She was adopted in 1970 after having spent six weeks in foster care. As children, we never discussed being adopted. Back then it was more about survival. We dealt with the same craziness that was heaped upon us by our adoptive mother...(my mother pushed her so hard when she was six years old that her head made a dent in the kitchen wall)...and we became closer as the years went by, trying to keep each other out of harm's way. Things have gotten a little odd between us now that I'm reunited with my natural family. I think she sometimes feels bad when she realizes that I'm going out to visit them and that I don't just have her as a sister now. It's a definite juggling act.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My natural sister and brother, Cate and Greg</td></tr>
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I also have a younger brother and sister on my natural mom's side of the family. It was very strange going from being the baby in the family to being the oldest sibling out of a group of three. It is hard to get out to see them as much as I'd like to but Cate and I stay connected by text, email and phone calls a lot. It's a bit different with Greg as he's really busy with work but he always is welcoming with big hugs and a "Love ya Sis" when we get together. I get sad sometimes though, realizing all that I've missed out on by being raised in a separate family but I'm glad I have them.<br />
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I do have two other brothers on my natural father's side. I haven't met them yet...have been trying to reach out to them after my reunion with my father fell through. I'm hopeful...but also trying to be realistic. Maybe they just aren't ready for me to come into their lives. I'm okay with that...for now, it's enough to know they are out there somewhere.<br />
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-55674140722373191782012-11-17T13:32:00.000-05:002012-11-19T13:33:57.512-05:00Connections ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 17<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Writing prompt for today: <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Adoptee
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Did you know many adoptees growing up? Do you know more now? How have adoptee friendships (online or in-real-life) impacted your experience? How do you generally make adoptee connections?<br />
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The short answer is no. I didn't know many adoptees growing up. I think that the first adoptee I knew was in college...my friend Gretchen. She was Korean and had grown up with a Scandinavian couple in New Hampshire with three other Korean adoptive siblings. She seemed comfortable with her life and I did envy her the love that her parents showed her when they came to visit her. <br />
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One of my best friends is an adoptee. She's content with her adoptive family and has told me that she has no desire to find her mother since there was clearly a reason that she gave her up. Her life was different than mine...no abuse, loving parents, amazing extended family...so I guess I can't fault her for her feelings. <br />
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The bulk of my adoptee friendships now are of the online variety. Less than a month after I was reunited with my natural mother, I found the <a href="http://www.adultadoptees.org/" target="_blank">AAAFC forums</a> and it was there that I found some of the greatest people I'd ever encountered. They gently helped me out of the fog and encouraged me to explore my feelings towards and about adoption and being adopted. Through that forum, I found myself and while I hate the word, I am "grateful" for each and every friend I made there.<br />
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-25799998763341163522012-11-16T13:17:00.000-05:002012-11-19T13:18:25.195-05:00Here's What I Know ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 16<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zvxsozYX7UAXNv3FztmWWGHGv-niCWxNSa5QLL0ax6Bpnr7b8J04U33h6r-kcVdntVIRTkWSl9Tnmu-aWVAJxO3UEmg_-XPjr5J53VMGz1bTM9pevbrNE8RvLmtbKd5qzqZJukHutBVP/s1600/49040008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><u><span style="color: #0066cc;"></span></u><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Writing prompt for today: <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Knowledge About Your Adoption </span></span><br />
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Some adoptive parents share more than others for various reasons. How much of your adoptive parents’ story has been shared with you? If they shared details about your adoption with you, how did that make you feel? If they did not, do you wish they had? Did your parents share with you why they choose to adopt? Did they share that story with others in your life? If so, did it affect you in any ways?<br />
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I think I answered a lot of this prompt on <a href="http://peaceofcricket.blogspot.com/2012/11/whats-story-morning-glory-nablopomo.html" target="_blank">my post from November 7th</a> but maybe I can expand on it a bit?<br />
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My adoptive parents married in 1962 after dating for two years. They were a young couple, my mother was 22 and my father 27. We had vague stories told to us of how they tried to have children of their own (yes, that was how they said it...and adoptees AREN'T Plan B???) but then decided that since that wasn't working after eight years, they would adopt. <br />
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That's about the extent to what we were told about it. They felt that God led them to adopt...all of the typical stuff you read about online now written by adoptive parents or potential adoptive parents applies to their experience back in the early 70's. <br />
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I never thought about being Plan B until I was reunited. I just rolled with it and became very mechanical with my responses when people would ask me about it. "They couldn't have kids and decided to adopt". That was it. Most often, I'd get the standard "Well, isn't that nice that they chose you for their family?!" and I'd be silent and nod. Now, I just look at the person who says it and will calmly explain, "Looks can be deceiving." and let them figure it out on their own.<br />
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-36270451252288276552012-11-15T12:59:00.000-05:002012-11-19T13:00:02.591-05:00Catching Up ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 15Whoops...it seems that work and life caught up with me and I am finding myself backtracking to write five days worth of posts. Sigh.
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Writing prompt for November 15 ~ <b>The Unexpected </b><br />
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Is there an area of your life that most people would not suspect has been affected by your adoption in which being adopted has been an issue? How do you handle that area when discussing with other people?
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I love to crochet. I make hats, scarves, purses and afghans for my friends and family. It's satisfying to complete a work in progress and to see the joy on someone's face when they see what I've created, just for them.<br />
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Recently, I was perusing a forum that I am part of for crocheters and came across a fundraiser that was being put on by a friend of potential adoptive parents. She was making crocheted items to sell to make money for this couple in their pursuit of obtaining a child. <br />
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I didn't say anything on the forum or that thread...instead I kept my mouth shut. Why? Because I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the time to explain all the reasons that this was offensive to me. Perhaps someday I'll be able to go back and say something but not yet.
Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-13066274828913955502012-11-14T18:56:00.000-05:002012-11-15T20:49:16.688-05:00What's That You Say? ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strong>The Things People Say</strong></div>
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is the strangest thing anyone has ever said to you or asked you about being
adopted? What is the most insightful thing anyone has ever said to you about
being adopted? Has anyone ever shared your story without your permission? If so,
how did that make you feel? Who “owns” your story and what part of your story do
you share with others in your adoption “triad”? Is there a line when it comes to
sharing? If so, where is that line drawn for you?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'd have to say that the strangest things I've heard regarding being adopted have been since I started blogging. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong>"You should be grateful that you were adopted..things could be so much worse."</strong></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ummmmm...read some of my more raw blog posts and see how worse life was for me <em>because</em> I was adopted.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong>"My adopted child will never be bitter and angry."</strong></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This one kills me. I mean, there are some things in life you can control, but someone else's feelings isn't one of them.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong>"Your adoptive parents ARE your real parents."</strong></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, such as they were, my adoptive parents were real. But no more real than my natural parents. Love isn't endless. Love can multiply. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The most insightful thing anyone has said once they've found out I was adopted came about when my fiance was talking to his aunt about my reunion with my mom and family. He told me that she got this serious expression her face and said, very simply, "That's fantastic. Now she knows her people." Amazing. She got in ten seconds what some people will never understand. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So the answer to, "Has anyone shared my story?" would be yes. Steven has shared my story with his family and they were nothing but supportive. I didn't mind him sharing because I know he truly gets how being adopted affects me. He wasn't looking to get validation that I'm crazy. He wants his family to know me and that makes me happy. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ultimately, I own my part in my story...just as my natural mother owns hers and my adoptive mother owns hers. But our stories are all intertwined together, for better or for worse. But the odd thing is, I don't share everything of my story with either of my mothers. I just can't. It goes back to not wanting to anger my adoptive mother and not wanting to hurt my natural one. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'm not sure where my line of sharing is. On my blog, I don't censor myself. I spent too many years being silent and not being my true self. Here, because my mothers and extended family members don't read my posts, I can be authentic. Perhaps someday I can share that with them, but for now, I'm content to share myself with you.</span></div>
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-66043423791052021442012-11-13T20:56:00.001-05:002012-11-13T20:56:56.125-05:00Puzzling Experiment ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 13::tap tap tap tap tap tap tap....::<br />
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No, I'm not tapping my foot on the floor out of impatience. I'm tapping on the <a href="http://www.22cans.com/" target="_blank">Curiosity cube</a>. My friend Matty got me hooked. <br />
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A group of people in England put together the cube as a social experiment. It's a cube...made up of billions of smaller cubelets. You download the app, and start tapping on the cubelets to chip away at the layers of the cube to get to the last layer. Something is inside the cube that only the last person to tap on the last cubelet will get to see. It's fascinating...exasperating...and unfortunately for me, highly addictive. No one knows how many layers there are to this cube but the thought of what might be hidden inside is intriguing.<br />
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The cube for me is like chipping away at my life...peeling away the layers of adoption and abuse and pain and getting to my core. Much like the experiment, I have no clue what is inside the cube and I have no clue what I will find inside of myself. It'll be fun to find out though. :)Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-8474652609840089942012-11-12T21:19:00.000-05:002012-11-12T21:27:16.097-05:00My Peeps ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Writing prompt for today: <strong>Significant Others</strong> </div>
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Has being adopted affected your romantic relationships? If so, how? What is your relationship like with your adoptive family? Do you feel connected to your extended adoptive family (grandparents, aunts/uncles, cousins, etc.)? If reunited, do you feel connected to your extended natural family? Are there disconnects? Explain.<br />
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Because I was so firmly lost in the fog during my childhood and early adulthood, I always just assumed that my relationships failed because I wasn't good enough. I didn't realize that I was too clingy because I was so afraid of rejection and being abandoned (again). I figured that if I showed my love to the men in my life, they wouldn't leave me. But that backfired on me, every.single.frigging.time.<br /><br /> I'm in a "big girl" relationship now though for the first time in my life. Steven loves me even when I'm crabby and feeling unlovable. Somehow he knows just the right words to say to bring me back down to earth. He knows about my adoption stuff...knows about the abuse and can even pick up on my adoptive mother's subtle ways of phrasing things that drive me crazy. He's been there since day one of my reunion with my natural mother and adores that side of my family which makes it much easier for me to be myself around them...as opposed to my extended adoptive family.<br /><br />Honestly, the only person I felt truly close to out of all of my adoptive family members was my grandmother. She never made me feel different from my cousins and I adored hearing her call me "My Little Chrissy". We'd make homemade donuts every Saturday morning when it was my turn to spend the night at my grandparents' house. It was my job to count them for her (not that she really needed me to count them, but it kept this four year old busy so she could carry on with her work. We'd spend hours at their dining room table with whatever puzzle she was working on. She's take apart a section of the puzzle so I could put it back together for her. I felt such love when I was with her. Her death from a massive heart attack when I was seven years old hit me hard. I had come to look at her as my shelter from my train wreck of a life. I even tried to run away from home when I was four to walk down the street to my grandparents' house in a foot of snow because I wanted to escape. Sadly, I knew I wasn't allowed to cross the street and ended up just standing at the end of our long driveway, looking longingly in the direction of my safe harbor...a mere 500 feet down the hill.<br /><br />Every other adoptive relative, while they are cordial, make me uncomfortable. It's always been that way. Although, I had heard my parents talking about their wills one day and they mentioned that my aunt and uncle would be our legal guardians if they ever died. This is horrible, but I was the kid wishing for a freak piano to come flying out of the sky while my parents were walking underneath it so I could at least live with kind strangers instead of abusive ones.<br /><br />My natural relatives have been nothing but accepting since our reunion in 2008. My aunts and uncle have told me that they never stopped thinking about me. And aside from some distant cousins, EVERYONE knew about me...and while I'm sure it was a shock when I was found, they've all said that it was like I was just away on a long trip...that I fit in perfectly with our whacked out family. I feel the same way. I've only felt unconditional love a few times in my lifetime...with my children, Steven and with my natural mom's family. I'm beginning to see that I AM lovable...I am worth something. And those boys and men that I gave my heart to all those years ago didn't get to meet the real me. I'm sad for them because I'm a pretty cool chick.</div>
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Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7368059624632256365.post-13632863601518314182012-11-11T17:38:00.001-05:002012-11-11T17:38:06.677-05:00Such A Crock ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Writing prompt for the day: <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Personal
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What is your opinion of adoption today? Are you in favor of or against adoption, and how do various circumstances affect your opinion? Has your opinion changed over time? If so, what caused you to rethink your former opinion? What do you think is the biggest need for change in the adoption industry or is the current model for adoption fine the way it is?<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
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Adoption sucks. <br />
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To tell you why that is my opinion today, I need to backup a few steps.<br />
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Growing up, being adopted was just part of my story. As a child I didn't have a feeling towards it, good or bad. I mean, yes, I hated my life because of the abuse, but I didn't put two and two together and blame it on adoption itself. I internalized it and figured I was bad and that was why all the horrible things happened to me.<br />
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Once I grew up and matured, I began to internalize things even more and thought that the reason I was given up was because I was just unlovable. I mean, if my own biological mother didn't want me, how could I expect total strangers raising me to treat me well? I wished I wasn't adopted, but there wasn't anything I could do about it since my mother didn't want me so I had to just grin and bear it and daydream about a better life.<br />
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Now, as a reunited adoptee, I know that I wasn't a bad kid. My mother thought she was giving me a loving family to live with, one that she thought she couldn't give me. Instead I was placed with monsters. It took a long time to realize that being given up wasn't a statement against me as a baby or a person, it just was the situation I was put into.<br />
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I'm not sure if there was one specific moment where the lightbulb went off and I understood how intrinsically wrong adoption truly is. I think being found was part of the clarity though. In talking to my natural mother, having very deep discussions about it, I came to see that my life would have been different living with her. I would have grown up with a younger brother and sister and an extended family that is loyal to the nth degree. The love they have shown me since we were reunited is amazing and I often feel grief creep into my heart for the lost time. They make me feel like I am part of the family though...even more so than my adoptive relatives that I grew up with. The hugs come easily, the "I love you's" are frequent and sincere. I can't put myself behind a system that would take that familiarity away from children just because the supply and demand insists on it.<br />
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I am not heartless. I know there are circumstances in which children should not stay with their natural families. I was abused and would not wish what I went through on my worst enemy...but why adoption? Why take a legal document (the birth certificate) and tamper with it, changing a child's natural mother and father's names to be that of the adoptive parents? My adoptive mother didn't give birth to me, but why then is she listed on my birth certificate? To me, that's fraud at the simplest level. Why not guardianship instead? Why not give a child a home without taking away their heritage? That is what I want to see. That is what I fight for. <br />
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<br />Crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16968579258082745674noreply@blogger.com0