My Peeps ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 12

                                                                              

Writing prompt for today: Significant Others 

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.

 

 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

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.