Take Your Benevolent Neglect and Shove It

Last 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.

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.

I put up the following status last night on that page...and tagged my father and mom.

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.
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 ...adoptive and natural, on it..and who are proud to call me their daughter, sister, friend.
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.

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.

I have given up that dream. — with (Natural mom's name) and (Natural father's name)

So then, this morning the comment war started.  Sigh.

My father's wife's comments are BOLD and my responses are in ITALICS.

• (Father's wife) 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!

  6 hours ago · Like

  
  
• (Me) 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.

  6 hours ago · Like

  
  
• (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 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) (Her daughters are not P's children), 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.

  5 hours ago · Like

  
  
• (Me) 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.

  
  

  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 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.
• 3 hours ago · Edited · Like

  
  
• (Father's Wife) 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 that 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.

about an hour ago · Like

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.

What's The Story, Morning Glory? ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 7

Writing prompt for today: Childhood Adoption Narratives. Describe the story your adoptive parents told you growing up. What age were you? What feelings and questions did you have about this “adoption narrative”? Was it a satisfying explanation for you? Explain. As an adult, whether or not you are in reunion, comment on how much of that story turned out to be true. Has your adoption narrative changed? What story, if any, do you share with friends, acquaintances? How do others react to your narrative? Are they curious, supportive, silencing?

 

 

There was never one specific day that my parents sat me down and told me that I was adopted.  I just "always knew".  My baby book was geared toward adopted children with lots of flowers and bunnies and "This is where we brought you after we picked you up from the adoption agency".

 

The story goes like this:

 

My parents had adopted my sister back in 1970 after trying to have a baby of their own for eight years.  They had to wait a few years to put their name back on the list to adopt another baby girl.  And wait they did.  It would two more years and by the time June of 1974 came along, they were seriously considering telling the agency to forget it. 

 

Imagine my mother's surprise when on the morning of June 25, the Social Worker called while my mother was home with my four year old sister.  "We have a baby girl for you". 

 

The problem was, the house wasn't ready for a baby.  No crib, no toys, no high chair, no diapers, no clothes..nothing.  My mother called in the neighbors who rushed out to get supplies for this infant.  She then called my father at work and told him to come home so they could go the agency and get the baby.  Once he got home, they headed out immediately, leaving their friends in charge of getting things ready back at the house.

 

The baby wasn't at the agency yet, they were bringing her from the hospital and would be there in a hour.  They killed time by grabbing a bite to eat and then sat in the waiting room, eagerly anticipating their new bundle of joy.  Thankfully, one of my mother's friends had given her a "Going Home Outfit" that she put on the baby and after taking some pictures, they drove home.

 

A sign had been erected in front of the house, hurriedly put up by the neighborhood.

 

"Welcome home Baby W....... #2".  That's how it all began.

 

I spent the bulk of that first day laying in the middle of my parent's bed while they put up the crib.  For the first two weeks, I didn't have a name...ironically enough, they called me Princess.  It makes me sad that I went three weeks without an actual name, but it was par for the course I suppose.

 

Looking back on my narrative, I truly just feel sadness.  I often think about being in a bassinet in the hospital without my natural mother or father, no one to claim me until a stranger came and whisked me off to the waiting arms of two more strangers.  Was I cuddled in the hospital, or left alone unless I cried? 

 

The only thing my parents would say about my parents is that my "birthmother" was a teenager and that she gave me up to have a better life..that she wanted me to have a Mommy and Daddy and God brought you to us to have for our own.  That has never sat well with me. The hypocrisy of their words hits me in the very core of my being.  I always felt gypped out of that "better life" that I was promised.  I had a Mommy who yelled all the time and a Daddy who was a monster.  Nice. 

 

Now that I'm in reunion, I don't tell the story that was forcefed to me about rainbows and sparkles and "Ohhh, isn't it CUTE that you didn't have a name and we called you Princess??".  I simply say, I am adopted and my mother found me after 34 years apart.  I tell about how beautiful of a person she is and how she has become more of a mom to me than the mother I grew up with.  I talk about our reunion story and still get choked up when I describe how incredible our first face to face meeting truly was.

 

In the beginning, once people found out that I was reunited with my natural mom, they would say, "Wow, how does your adoptive mother feel about that?".  I would shy away from the question because it made me angry that they weren't asking me how I felt about it.  But now, I say, well, my childhood wasn't the best and while I respect my adoptive mother's feelings, my reunion isn't ABOUT her.  It's about me.   

 

Most people are very curious about how I was found...and for the most part, are very supportive.  I have run across some that are not as nice and judge me for being ungrateful.  Honestly, I lived too long with negativity and abuse and I usually just stop discussing it because only I know how I feel.

 

 

 

This, That and The Other Thing

Life’s been quiet the past few weeks.  The third anniversary of my first contact with my natural mom has come and gone.  She’s still in Delaware with my grandfather but might (fingers, toes, arms, legs and eyes are crossed for luck) come home for a week soon.  Haven’t been talking much with my natural dad though.  He and his wife were busy taking care of her grandson for awhile and then were going on vacation.  Still feeling a little hurt that he didn’t remember my birthday but that’s just how it goes I guess. 

Spent the weekend with my friend from work and her twin daughters, along with my two cherubs.  Went to the pond near her house on Saturday…managed to avoid getting sunburned even though we ran out of sunblock after the four kids and Robin were doused in it.  I was skeered there for a little bit because normally I can only be out in the sun for ten minutes before I look like a lobster..lol. 

On a brighter note, it’s been five months since I’ve received any child support from Chase’s father…until last week when I finally got something.  Although, if you take the $87.20 that was deposited and divide that by 5 months (roughly 20 weeks), that works out to be $4.36 a week.  Whatever.  No, really…whatever.  I don’t bother getting upset about it anymore.  It’s up to the Department of Revenue to deal with now.  And from the correspondence I’ve been having with the DOR lately, things are catching up to my ex. ::shrug::  Again, whatever.  If I get money for Chase, great.  If not, it’s fine.  I have tons of other stuff to worry about..like the fact I need more coffee..lol.  I just show up for the drop offs/pick ups with a smile on my face and know that being civil to him and to his wife is the best gift I can give Chase. I do have to admit that I was snippy in an email thread my ex and I had the other day.  See, he’s a SAHD to his two other daughters, younger than Chase, and was saying that he had gone on a field trip with the kindergarten to the fire department and how great it was to be able to see things like that through a child’s eyes.  Now, I agree…but was feeling a bit snarky at that particular moment and retorted, “Sadly, working full time Monday through Friday doesn’t give me time to go on field trips with the kids…nice you got to go though.”  Sigh.  Not my finest moment but I was irritated..lol.  (This was NOT a jab at any SAHParents in my viewing audience…but if you have children you need to be supporting, sitting at home and not providing is just plain wrong).

Ugh..rant over.

Random Bloggy Bits

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

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

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

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

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

Weighty Issues

My head is like a bowl of mush.  I've been feeling like I can't form a complete sentence without sounding like an imbecile so I've been avoiding this blog.  Possibly it's because I skipped therapy last week and even though I thought I was okay with that, my anxiety and depression levels have risen substantially in recent days and I seriously think I'm losing it.

Truthfully, this post might make me sound shallow..but it's my blog so if you don't like, screw (lol).  I hate the way I look.  I've gained a good 50 pounds and when you are only 5'3", that weight adds up quickly on small bones.  I don't look in mirrors if I can help it...and believe me, that takes a great deal of finagling when there's a full length mirror in the bathroom across from the shower.  I hate getting pictures taken of myself...unless they are from the neck up only.  I'll hide behind people so nothing shows except my face..and again, that takes finagling because they always put the short ones in the front. 

Last week, we had a retirement party for one of our colleagues..and the office busybody was bustling around taking pictures of each table.  I tried to hide..I really did..but it didn't work.  And the next day when she passed out our copies of the pictures, I could have sunk down into the floor and sobbed.  I feel really gross.  Seeing myself hammered home the fact that I am not healthy.  And it hurts like crazy.

At my last therapy session two weeks ago, I'd told my therapist that I really want to start doing things to make me happy.  That I need to start taking better care of myself emotionally and physically.  So tonight, she asked me what I've done to fulfill that wish.

I came up with one thing.  Only one thing out of fourteen days.  I took off to the beach for the day with Chase, my natural sister and our mom.  And that day was magical...aside from the frigging bathing suit business.  We dug in the sand and made sand castles...jumped in the waves and laughed as the water splashed us.  Watched a guy on a surfboard being pulled along behind a kite.  Was awesome.

But when she said, "And what else?" I had to admit, I had nothing.

I've decided that I'm going to pack my sneakers in my car tomorrow and start walking again.  Working my way up to jogging/running.  I need to figure out my life...and if I can get healthy, hopefully that will aid in my healing.  I'm tired of the weight that is wearing me down.  And the thing is, I'm not just talking about my body's physical weight...it's the emotional weight as well. 

On a completely different note, the day before we went to the beach, my amother asked to borrow our shovel so she could go to my grandfather's grave and dig a bed for his flowers.  I knew it was going to be hot out so I told her I'd go help her.  The kids and I picked her up and away we went.  Three-quarters of the way there she said, "Hey, do you mind if we go to your dad's grave so we can water his flowers?".

::thud::

My heart started racing, and I began to panic. 

"Sure.  That's fine."  I heard myself say.

While on the inside, I was shouting...You frigging idiot..what are you doing???? 

We got to the cemetery and were digging around Bumpa's stone...planting more flowers, watering the existing ones..while the kids danced merrily around my jeep.

After several minutes I mustered up my courage.

"Hey Mom...I don't mind driving to dad's cemetery, but I'm going to just sit in the car and the kids can help you water, okay?"  I kept my head down and kept digging.

I can't honestly remember what she said..probably something like "Are you alright?  We don't have to go...".

"No, we can go..it's just that I'm just finally realizing that I haven't been honest about some of my feelings..and I'm just trying to honor my truths...".

"Well, if you are sure...the kids can help me water the flowers and you can pull the car up past the stone.  I appreciate you being able to share that you're uncomfortable..".

And so, that's what I did.  The panic eased...and afterwards, I felt lighter.  I guess that's another thing I did for myself to make me happy.

Two things.  It's a start.

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.

Pondering

I've hesitated in writing about my visit with Chris last weekend. Not because it wasn't wonderful, but because of some of the hard emotions that bubbled up to the surface.

It was a blessing to be able to just hang out with her…went out to dinner, giggled, talked, hugged, and giggled some more. And we talked about my adoption. She told me about a boy she dated after she found out about the pregnancy..John. He told her that he'd marry her and raise me as his own…so she wouldn't be alone. Alas, he had issues…assumedly with drugs..and they parted ways before my birth.

I found out that contrary to what I was always told, I was actually born at night..not in the morning.  Not a huge thing, but it bothers me that noone thought it important enough to get it right.

I also found out that noone told her that she had 30 days after having me to change her mind. I couldn't bring myself to ask the burning question that raced like fire through my heart..would she have kept me?

Not that it matters now…my life is what it is. My therapist and I talk a lot about my obsession with the "What ifs" and how it's not helping me heal. But I just can't help it.

I know that everyone has their own list of "What ifs"..and that most of the below items could be one anyone's list…but these are mine…and they hurt to think about.


What if I grew up knowing who I truly was..who I was meant to be?

What if I grew up knowing the unconditional love that a mother has for their child, instead of having to wait until I had my own children?

What if I grew up as Elena Katherine instead of Christina Lynn?

What if I never met any of the wonderful bloggers that I've come to know and love..even the ones that challenge me?

What if I hadn't been mentally abused by my school mates?

What if I hadn't been sexually abused?

What if I was never referred to as a "piece of shit"?

What if I grew up knowing that being sent back wasn't a real possibility?

What if I could look in the mirror and love the person I am?

What if I never had to explain to anyone about why I have two mothers…and why one isn't anymore real than the other?

What if?

Desperate Much?

I'm totally excited in a desperate sort of way today. Confused? Yeah, me too.

My nsister, Cate, is on a cruise with her deceased fiance's aunt in the Bahamas. I decided that since my children are away for the week, I'd ask my mother, Christine, if she was busy Saturday night. She's not, and so I invited myself to her apartment that she shares with Cate for an overnight. She sounded super psyched for the visit.

The thing is, I've really never spent a significant amount of time with just Christine. Cate's always around to kind of fill in the weird silences (she talks A LOT)..or my kids are underfoot. I'm kind of nervous and am getting butterflies.

It's not like we *just* reunited…that happened back in July of 2008. We've had plenty of time together, although I'd love to see her more. Cate and Chris have a very easy mother-daughter relationship…and while Chris can drive Cate crazy, the love I see between the two of them inspires me to be a better mom. There is jealousy though. I see the pictures around their apartment of the family that I'm part of, and yet not completely a part of. I see the soft way that Chris speaks of Cate and my brother Greg and wish with all my heart that I'd grown up in that environment.

I know I'll have a good time…we'll have a great visit…but I'll drive away wishing for more.