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.

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

Adoption Carnival Eight: Little Girl Lost

Grown In My Heart is once again hosting a carnival.  This time it's about poetry..

Write a poem about adoption. Simple…then link to the original post using Mr. Linky.

Here is my entry.  It's basically about my life..but because I'm adopted, makes it all that much more raw for me.


Looking through the mirror
Wondering what kind of life she leads...

Do her parents rock her to sleep every night..
Or does she clutch her worn out blankie for comfort instead?

Does she pretend to be a princess in a far away land..
Or does she just pretend to be anywhere except where she is?

Has she ever opened up a box of cereal when one was already started?
Did her parents laugh, or did they break a spoon on her behind to teach her a lesson?

Were there bedtime stories and kisses and hugs before bed..
Or was she told, "Watch out for the boogeyman", and sent upstairs alone?

Has she been praised for her intelligence, sense of humor and compassion...
Or has she been ridiculed and called names?

What kind of friends does she have? Loyal, trustworthy, loving?
Or has she ever had her best friend pretend that she's turned invisible?

Are her parents proud of her...
Or have they called her dirty...or a piece of shit?

Has she felt the warmth of a parent's embrace...
Or has she felt the hot sting of a hand across her cheek?

Is she innocent..
Or has she lost that innocence and been told that she's a liar for telling?

Does she have a secret spot that she goes to when she plays hide and go seek..
Or does she use that spot to escape the terror in her room?

Does she look at her childhood photo albums and see her toothy smiles...
Or does she wonder why her face looks so sad?

Has she heard funny stories about her older sister growing up before she was born..
Or has she heard about the time her mother put her sister through the kitchen wall?

Was she told "It's okay" when she forgot to close the windows during a storm...
Or did her father throw her down on the bed in anger and lock her in the room?

Can she look at herself and see where she gets her nose..her eyes...her ears...
Or does she resent the differences she sees?

Does she know what unconditional love is..
Or has she been told that her parents would like to send her back?

Has she ever had a steady boyfriend..
Or is her life littered with Mr. Wrongs?

Is she content with her weight..
Or has she felt the shame of starvation, or binging and purging?

Does she love her life...
Or does she look through the mirror and wish she was me?

Remembering Love

My birthday is in 29 days. I'll be 29 for the *ahem* seventh time. When I was a child, birthdays always brought sadness. Oh, I'd play the game…I'd laugh and smile when everyone sang "Happy Birthday", when really, I just wanted to run away, hating to be the center of attention. I remember every year after the party had ended, laying on my bed, looking out at the moon, wondering if "she" was thinking of me. Did she remember being pregnant with me and then leaving me at the hospital?

I got my answer last year. Here is the email that I received while sitting at work…

Good morning!

and yes I remember what day it is. :)


For 35 years I have wished many heartfelt wishes. I've wondered if you were excited, what your cake looked like, even if you were bummed when it fell on a school day, Personally, I hated the fact that I usually got summer clothes for mine. LOL ANYWAY......I didn't want to just be a "comment" on your Facebook when I finally get to say to you.....not telepathically as I have for years.....Happy Birthday Sweetheart. You have been loved and thought of for every day of your 35 years. I have to admit that all of my worrying for years was for naught....you are an amazing woman. A great mom, sister, friend, and especially...daughter. I won't claim credit for any of that...but to be a part of your life today makes me happy and full beyond belief.


so...Have a great day, enjoy every second, and know that you are very loved and always have been.


this is where I sing to you in my head, usually...but today I'll sing loud.


I love you.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox
love, Chriss

I felt more loved in the immediate moments after reading that message than I ever felt before. It was amazing, and I cried on and off all day over it.  (As did my friends and coworkers who were allowed to read it).  I carry that feeling with me every day now. When I'm sad, or angry, or confused, I read that email and am lifted up.

Adoption Carnival Seven

Another carnival is going on at Grown In My Heart…this time it's in honor of Mother's Day.

Carnival:


• Post a picture of your mother (the one you most refer to as a mom). This could be your grandmother, your birthmother, your aunt, your sister, your biological mom, your adoptive mom, your best friend, your surrogate mom…Your MOTHER.


• Include a Six-Word-Memoir with the picture describing her/what she means to you.


• Link back to GIMH with Mr. Linky


• If you don’t have a blog you can email your carnival submission to us at pickelfam at yahoo dot com


• If you are not in the adoption community you can STILL enter!

This is a difficult carnival for me…because I have two mothers…and because I feel like I'd be disloyal to one or the other depending on who I chose to show and write about.

Aaaaargh.

Truthfully, while I love my adoptive mother…I'm going to be completely honest here, sometimes I feel like it's because I 'have' to…because I'd appear ungrateful (yuck..hate that word) if I didn't say it. With my natural mother, it's a much more easygoing, laidback relationship…and the love I feel for her is different. It feels more…real…if that makes any sense. And while I know that both of my mothers are real, I have to speak my mind and look deep in my heart to see who my mom is.

Blah blah blah Christina..get to the effing picture, right?

My six word phrase to describe her and what she means to me?

"Life has become a fairy tale…"

New Look...And Ancient Pain

Okay guys, so I'm reeeeeeally technically challenged but managed to figure out how to change my template on Blogger.  What do you think?  I'm not entirely convinced that it'll stay like this but I'll live with it for awhile.

This has been a crap-ass week.  It started last Saturday when Libby's (my Jeep Liberty) battery died.  Sigh.  And continued on with a health scare with my a-mom.  She was having heaviness in her chest and tingling in her arms. 

Now, regardless of the fact that my a-dad was a prick my entire life, he DID die of a massive heart attack so I'm very conscious of my mom's physical health.  Thankfully (in these emergency circumstances anyway) we only live about fifteen minutes away from her so I was able to get her to the emergency room quickly.  She's okay.  All of the tests she had came back okay. 

I have to tell you, it scared the crap out of me.  As much as she drives me nuts and makes me want to tear my hair out, I don't know what I'd do if she passed away.  It'd be easy for me to say "Fuck her!" for all the shit she put me through as a child and even as an adult, but it's a lot more complicated than that.  Even through all the abusive years and the yelling and the screaming..for better or for worse, she's my mother...just as my n-mom is. 

Therapy was craptastic tonight.  Just peachy.  Bawled my eyes out on the way home...realizing more and more how incredibly fucked up I am in the head.  My therapist has this amazing ability to take me to places that I would really rather not revisit.  But I have to.  I have to close my eyes and see my little five year old self and have actual conversations with her...I have even rocked her in my arms and cried with her.  I have talked to the Keeper of the Secrets..my eight year old self.  Tonight I tried to break through the fear and get the Keeper to let me help the littler one, hereafter known as "Five"..but she just stared at me silently in my mind and slowly shook her head...holding Five's hand the whole time.  Sounds crazy doesn't it?  It feels crazy to write it..but it's happened.  Just as the abuse happened.  Fuck.

**ETA...Help!!!  (Did I mention I'm technically challenged???)  Last night when I checked the new blog layout/template, the widgets were on the right hand side of the page..now they are below the posts...how the hell do I fix that???  Anyone??  Anyone????  Bueller???????

Anything But Normal...

Wow, I'm honored to be listed among bloggers that I look to for inspiration and support.

I have a hard time reading the other articles on the site dealing with adoption, but I'm really glad that adoptees' voices are being heard.

To be completely honest, I've been trying to avoid the painful parts of being adopted. Of being an adult adoptee. Frankly, I don't understand why anyone (except other adoptees) would care about my feelings…often, when I do end up reading AP's blogs, I feel stifled. Claustrophic even. Why CAN'T I just be grateful…grateful for not having been aborted..grateful to a God that thought I'd be the perfect gift to a couple who thought they needed two kids to make them happy…grateful that I had a roof over my head and a "normal" family? Because my life was anything but normal. I grew up hating myself..hating the way I was different from everyone in my adoptive family…hating the fact that my cousins were beautiful and had all the right clothes and the right boyfriends/girlfriends and parents that actually cared about them. I wasn't loved…I was tolerated. And sometimes, I didn't even feel tolerated. I felt like a disgusting piece of garbage most days.

Some days, I still do.

"Unfortunately, there is no rewind button on the VCR of life..."

I broke my New Year's resolution already. I found myself at a foster/adoptive parent's blog and my heart is broken. Broken for the young girl that is growing up in a house with two women who jump for joy when she's gone. I commented…calmly in fact…but in reality, I'm disgusted by the utter disregard they feel for this child. A child that one of the women says that they probably wouldn't have adopted had they known then what they know now.

OMG. So, I commented. And a few other adoptee warriors did as well. And instead of listening to what we had to say, she brushed us off with a blog post..telling us all that perhaps adult adoptees shouldn't read her blog.

Too late FosterAbba…too late. I've read…and I've cried for the girl that you are so eagerly spewing your hateful words about because you need a place to vent.

As I said, I grew up knowing that my amom often wanted to send me back..and it destroyed my soul and my heart. That's exactly what you are doing to your daughter. I'm sorry that you live in a state that won't let you "bring her back". I'm sorry your partner works in the Child Welfare system and that even if you could abandon her somewhere, it would be frowned upon by her profession.

Your daughter deserves better. Shame on you.

Selfish?

Been MIA the past few days..work has been absolutely INSANE with Quarter and Year end looming. Thankfully, it all dies down tomorrow and then will start all over again next year.


Christmas was great...the kids were super excited to get their PS2 (a gently used hand-me-down from my manager) along with the 20 games they got to go along with it. Madelyn got her Heely's (you know, those stupid sneakers with the even more stupid wheels) and her pink soccer ball..and Chase got his "big boy" scooter and tons of arts and crafts stuff to keep his busy hands busy..lol.

My amom and asister (along with her husband, MIL and two boys) came over for crappetizers and dessert...and then a little before they left my nmom and nsister came. I have to admit that it was terribly awkward there for a little while. No one really knew how to bridge the gap..and so, it wasn't bridged. But they were cordial to each other. I was relieved when everyone else had left and it was just my nmom, nsister, Steven and Madelyn in the house...(Chase spent the day with his dad and his family).

I'd written to my asister before Christmas..telling her that I wasn't trying to be selfish by inviting my nfamily. That I just wanted to share the holiday with both of my families...I didn't get her response until I returned to work on Monday:


In some ways bringing the biological family and the adoptive family together is like bringing together the ex-wife and current wife, children from first marriage and children from second marriage, all to celebrate together.


Everybody has to work a little extra hard to be okay, and it takes time. Of course you're not selfish to want to do it, and hopefully you know that the other people aren't meaning to be selfish either.

I'll be honest, Chrissy, it hits me on a deep level that you have another sister. That's my issue, not yours, and I certainly don't begrudge you a relationship with Cate and wouldn't want you to keep Cate and I separate because of it. But it still makes me feel weepy. So I imagine it's similar for mom. Make any sense?


So, I read that part of her email and immediately started feeling really crappy for putting them through it. And as much as I didn't want to feel selfish, that's exactly how I ended up feeling.

"Ordained By God"

I read a blog post today that really gave me pause...for a variety of reasons:

X... and Y..., may you always know that your Dad and I could never love you more were we to share strands of those silly things called DNA. May you always know that you became ours because you were loved and valued, by your first families and by God, and we were all chosen to be a family! I wish everyone knew what a beautiful thing God ordained adoption to be!

First off, DNA is not silly as this poster said. Unless of course, you're an adoptive parent who likes it when others tell you that your adopted child looks like you...

Just last week when I went to pick up my daughter from my amother's apartment, two of the old bitties who live on her floor were out talking to my mother. One of the women, not knowing that I'm adopted, said, "Wow, SHE doesn't look like you Barbara.." referring to me. My mother just smiled and changed the subject, but I wanted to scream at her..."OF COURSE I DON'T LOOK LIKE HER, YOU NINNY...I'M FREAKING ADOPTED!". I should add that right before she said I don't look like my amother, the other old bitty said to me, "Your daughter could be your clone!".

I spent my childhood, teenage years, 20's and early 30's wondering where I got different facial features...and now I know...it's in my DNA. I share many genetic traits with my natural family...and now, I can see that for myself. It's incredibly empowering.

As for my adoption being "ordained by God", my response to that is, what kind of God would place me with abusive parents? Not mine, so the molestation must have been ordained by your God. Not the kind of loving, caring Creator that I believe in...but whatever ::shrug::

A Lot To Think About

Thank you to everyone who commented on my blog today. Really. I couldn't believe how many views I got, and while I certainly didn't get 200 comments to go along with the 200 views (thankfully because I'd probably be responding to them all until 2010), I did learn a little bit more of the give and take between adoptees and AP's.

I appreciate the dialogue...good, bad, indifferent...it made me think. Perhaps my brain is on overload now though because I can't form a complete thought.

Good night.

National Adoption Month...Hmmmmm

It goes to show how much in the fog I was until recently. I didn't even KNOW that someone had come up with the idea of National Adoption Month (hereafter referred to as NAM).

From the description on the above linked site, it would seem to be a great idea. Raising awareness and promoting adoption for children who are in foster care....great, right? My problem with it comes when people use NAM in their responses to comments as proof that it's a wonderful thing ALL the time. It's not. It's completely offensive to adoptees to celebrate such loss and pain...it's disrespectful. Just as it's disrespectful to proclaim that it was "God's will" that a mother gave up her child so a couple who were unable to have their own children could take over and become the parents.

Spending time with my natural mom solidifies our bond...and yes, makes me extremely resentful that she felt that her only choice was to give me up. Would my life have been hard? Maybe. But no more hard than it was to live with the monsters people entrusted to my care...

I had both of my children out of wedlock. Never in my mind was there a chance that I'd give them up for someone else to raise. Was I prepared to be a mom? No. Honestly it's been difficult. If I'd have a choice, I would have waited until the relationships I was in were more stable. But with all the issues I had growing up, I'm not surprised that this is the course of my life. I don't begrudge my mother the choice she made for herself..and for me...but that doesn't mean that I'm not hurt.

It's not easy for people who aren't adopted to understand the point of view of adoptees. We're labeled as being anti-adoption. But really, shouldn't we be allowed to be bitter? And if not, tell me why...

The Power of Three

I've split myself. Okay, that might not make sense to you...but to me, it makes perfect sense.

There's "Little Cricket"...the little girl who spent the bulk of her childhood hiding. Trying to stay three steps ahead of her a-mom so that she could say the right things to avoid being yelled at. The little girl who dreaded coming home after school because it was a crapshoot. Either things would be fine, or she'd walk into a minefield...dodging the explosions of an angry woman...or the abuse of a sick man.

Then there's "Wise Cricket". She's the peaceful one. The one who remembers all the 'bad stuff'...and yet remains calm..confident. She's very courageous too. Keeping the secrets until it's time to reveal all. I've never actually met "Wise Cricket"...no one has.

The last is the "Manager". She spends her day running interference between Little Cricket and Wise Cricket. Sometimes Wise Cricket wants to tell her little counterpart all the gory details of the past..wants to pass on the wisdom she's come to acquire after the years of abuse...and it's Manager's job to keep that from happening.

My therapist is trying to help me to change Manager's way of thinking. To let her know that it's safe to pass on Wise Cricket's knowledge...so Little Cricket can heal.

Recovery

Had to give myself a few days to recover from therapy last week. It was a really difficult session and I'm not entirely sure how I got through it intact. I've felt like someone/something is holding my shoulders down ever since...and whether that's just in my imagination, or whether it's my body remembering stuff, it's disconcerting and I'm not quite sure what to make of it. My therapist told me that it's possible that it isn't 'safe' to heal that yet...that my subconscious mind won't allow it...well, WTF.

Today my daughter and I are traveling out to see my natural mom for the day...can't wait...it's been awhile and I need some time with her. Desperately. I just feel drained...and in some way, seeing her, being in the same room as her, recharges my life battery.

Adoption Carnival Three

I'm again participating in Grown In My Heart's blog carnival..Photos of Adoption. Join in and make sure you utilize Mr. Linky at the site to add yourself into the mix.

I debated about posting pictures of the day that I was taken from the adoption agency...but those photos now symbolize pain and anguish.

Instead, I decided to post a couple of pictures of my natural mom, sister and me at our first face to face meeting on August 20, 2009. A mere 39 days after our first contact. That day was one of the best days of my life and holds a lot of meaning for me. It was a rebirth of sorts..like the planets in my life had finally aligned.





I may post the story of our beginnings here on this blog....if there's the interest. I sometimes fear that I might get boring droning on and on about my reunion. Thoughts?

Who Cares...

about ME? I know this post is going to sound selfish...but maybe I need to be a bit selfish as I work through my issues and limitations. Bear with me as I might just vent a bit, or even *gasp* swear.

I love my best friend...really...with all my heart, I love her. She's funny, quirky, free spirited and beautiful, inside and out. She's also had a really hard life. And she's severely depressed. To the point of threatening to not take care of the fibroid she has because she WANTS it to turn to cancer so she can just end it all. Now, I know that you all aren't privy to her life's problems...but I am. And I know what she's been through and how much she's struggled. Trust me, she's really had it rough.

Tonight she texted me and sounded really down. Really down. And I had to use all my charm and wit to bring her back to at least throwing in an "LOL" once in awhile. What gets me is that not once did she ask how I'm doing in therapy...not once did she ask how I'm handling MY crap. Because it always seems like whenever we talk, there just isn't enough time to deal with both of our stuff. And I usually just push my emotions aside to help her.

That's how I've always been. I'm a People Pleaser. That's been my role ever since childhood...it was better to just scuttle around anticipating what needed to be done, rather than waiting to be yelled at. Sometimes I was able to head the screaming off at the pass, but more often than not, it didn't matter how hard I tried, I'd just fail. I wouldn't pass Go and I certainly would not collect $200.

Most of my friendships are like the one I have with my best friend...as have most of the boyfriend/girlfriend relationships I've had. I try so hard to be the 'good friend' or the 'good girlfriend' that I just stuff all my feelings aside...and end up being resentful. It freaking sucks. But I don't want to lose my friends...of course I don't. I just want to feel validated once in awhile. Is that too much to ask??

Sometimes I really have to wonder.

By the way...I'd like to share a blog post that my friend had passed on to me. I'm interested to hear what my fellow adoptees have to say...and also what the AP's who read this think...even if you don't want to comment on my blog, please just read it.

Here you go...

I'll try and blog about my feelings surrounding the post tomorrow or Sunday...

My Happy Place

Therapy last night...and because I'm just overwhelmed in general right now she walked me through some guided imagery...and helped me find my "happy place".

My happy place is at a river, atop a very large boulder that is nestled in the middle of that river. The top of the rock is very flat, and big enough for me to create a safe, pleasant, peaceful atmosphere..surrounded by all of my favorite things.

The water soars by the rock, and I can see a bend in the river which carries the water away from my awareness and consciousness. I lay in the sun, just soaking up the good feelings, focused on my breathing.

When I am quiet and at peace, I take all the worries and anxiousness of the day and of my life and throw them gently into the river...letting them all go, taking note of the color that the water turns as the stress hits it. I return my attention to the rock for a few minutes, sinking into the peace and bliss.

I check the color of the water again, for me, the stress and overwhelming despair colored the water black..and would get progressively lighter the longer we went on.

I honestly hope I can recapture that feeling when I try and bring myself back to that place...it was beautiful there.

Jeez

My stomach is all tied up in knots. I hate therapy days. I'm anxious, nervous, panicky…and it's stupid because I've been going now for what, a month??? Sheesh…you'd think I'd get into the swing of things by now. And the crap part of it is that tomorrow I know I'll be anxious, nervous and panicky because it's over and I have to wait another week to go back. Gah!

And I'm feeling sad today for my asister, brother in law and my two nephews. Yesterday my sister and brother in law were having coffee in their breakfast nook/den area and their dog, Celia, was laying on the couch across the room. When it was time to get up and get ready to start the day, my sister went over to wake up Celia. She called her name a few times then rested her hand on Celia's back. She'd been gone for a little while…was a little cold to the touch. They immediately got the boys (they're eight and five) and brought them in to say goodbye.

They left her laying there while they all got dressed and at one point, my sister walked by the den and saw a piece of cheese on the couch next to her. My nephew had placed it there because, "Cheese was her favorite treat Mommy…". Breaks my heart.

Out of Sorts

Been feeling out of it for a few days. Just a general sense of "blah". I just can't seem to pull myself out of this funk..and it's really not anything specific that I can put my finger on that's causing me this angst.

I got a text message from one of my friends last night that I told her I hadn't gotten til this morning, thus the reason I hadn't responded..but the truth was, I'd started crying after I read it and couldn’t text back. She knows the whole story…she's read this blog.

Thx 4 being my friend!
I love you..things will get better 4 u, I promise :)

In my head, I know that eventually things WILL get better…but right now, in the middle of it, my heart is broken for the little girl I once was and it's hard to tell HER that it will get better.

I think I might have to take a break from commenting on other's blogs…or posts on forums. I just don't feel like it's healthy right now for me to get upset at perfect strangers for doing what they feel best for themselves….regardless of how sad it makes me for the adoptees who might one day end up like me. Waiting eagerly for the next email from my natural mom…waiting for the phone call from my sister…and then hearing about how they (nmom, nsis and nbrother) all hung out the other day. And while I recognize that it's easy for them to all get together since they live in the same general area, it still hurts my heart that I still feel like I don't fit in.

Where do I belong?

The other day in therapy, I used the following analogy to describe how I'm feeling about my reunion. It's like I'm standing on the ground and all of a sudden this huge crack opened up in the earth beneath my feet. One foot is on the side with my adoptive family..and the other is on the side with my natural family. I feel like I have to make a choice on which side to jump to and my "grateful" adoptee side is saying, "Adoptive side! Adoptive side!" but the "fuck you for destroying my self-esteem" adoptee side is saying, "Natural side! Natural side!".

Maybe I don't have to make the choice…but sometimes I think it'd be easier if I did.