I guess I've found my new mantra. As difficult as this will be..I HAVE to blog. It's important that I start digging into my past..so I can live my present..and continue on towards the future. I don't want to write about this. I don't want this to be happening to me.
My friends have been telling me that I should tell my amother about what I'm remembering...but I just can't. She still has the ability to make me feel like complete shit..usually about my parenting skills (HA! Look at my fucking role models)..and I just will not subject myself to being treated like this was somehow my fault. Or that I'm blowing this out of proportion. I fucking hate feeling insignificant. I hate being the fucking black sheep all the time.
The person I want to hold me right now and tell me it'll be okay is my natural mom. I want her to tell me she's sorry for leaving me with fucking abusive shitweasels.
But I can't tell her yet either. She still believes that my life was this fairytale. She's always saying that she's glad I had the kind of life she dreamed for me. My life was not a fairytale. It was far from it. More like a horror story from Edgar Allen Poe.
I just feel so damaged tonight.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Too Much
I'm having a really rough week. In "real life" I'm floating through...can even laugh and joke around at work..just like normal. But inside, I'm slowly falling apart.
Friday night, I was getting ready for bed. Was just sitting on the couch..finishing my wine.
All of a sudden, things got cloudy and I felt like I was going to pass out. It was like I was transported back in time to my childhood bedroom. My father was laying on my bed...
The memory went on...and while I will not go into details, suffice to say, when I realized where I was actually sitting and that I wasn't in my old room, I started sobbing from the knowledge I'd been wrong all these years. My father really did molest me and I'd pushed the most horrid memories out of my mind. God it hurts to even write the words. I knew he'd been "inappropriate" with me...but this is different. This is trauma at its worst.
I'm in such pain. I think it's time for therapy again. This is just too much to bear.
I need to talk to someone...tonight. I feel like I'm having an anxiety attack..just writing about the experience is causing me to panic.
Friday night, I was getting ready for bed. Was just sitting on the couch..finishing my wine.
All of a sudden, things got cloudy and I felt like I was going to pass out. It was like I was transported back in time to my childhood bedroom. My father was laying on my bed...
The memory went on...and while I will not go into details, suffice to say, when I realized where I was actually sitting and that I wasn't in my old room, I started sobbing from the knowledge I'd been wrong all these years. My father really did molest me and I'd pushed the most horrid memories out of my mind. God it hurts to even write the words. I knew he'd been "inappropriate" with me...but this is different. This is trauma at its worst.
I'm in such pain. I think it's time for therapy again. This is just too much to bear.
I need to talk to someone...tonight. I feel like I'm having an anxiety attack..just writing about the experience is causing me to panic.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I'd be interested in hearing what my fellow adoptlets have to say about this…it's something that's been weighing heavily on my mind lately.
Recently, and this may just be because I'm a needy little bitch..or that there has been so much going on within my natural family, I've felt like the reunion honeymoon is over. When I was first "found" (I actually HATE that term and am open to suggestions on other words that might be more appropriate), my natural mother and I would email for hours every day…she'd even begun a tradition of counting down the hours, then minutes, before I could escape this stupid cubicle and head home.
Now though, it's different. And I find myself getting upset at myself for slipping back into the "Woe is me" mentality and thinking I'm just not good enough anymore. I'm constantly wondering if she's avoiding me (which I honestly in my heart don't believe is the case, so it's just dumb of me to even ponder it)..or whether now that I'm here, and she knows me, the novelty has worn off.
Is there such a thing as a honeymoon period in terms of reunion? Do things just naturally slip into an "easy" sort of relationship?
And if so, easy for whom?
Recently, and this may just be because I'm a needy little bitch..or that there has been so much going on within my natural family, I've felt like the reunion honeymoon is over. When I was first "found" (I actually HATE that term and am open to suggestions on other words that might be more appropriate), my natural mother and I would email for hours every day…she'd even begun a tradition of counting down the hours, then minutes, before I could escape this stupid cubicle and head home.
Now though, it's different. And I find myself getting upset at myself for slipping back into the "Woe is me" mentality and thinking I'm just not good enough anymore. I'm constantly wondering if she's avoiding me (which I honestly in my heart don't believe is the case, so it's just dumb of me to even ponder it)..or whether now that I'm here, and she knows me, the novelty has worn off.
Is there such a thing as a honeymoon period in terms of reunion? Do things just naturally slip into an "easy" sort of relationship?
And if so, easy for whom?
Monday, August 3, 2009
I shouldn't have been afraid...
of hugs.
Family get togethers were always hard for me as a little girl. The minute we'd pull up in one of my uncles' driveways, I'd start to feel anxious. Because of the hugs. My mom knew how to hug me tightly to make me feel somewhat safe..but my other a-relatives didn't. They'd give me the obligatory pat on the back and send me on my way. I hated the initial walk through the door, waiting for the hugs to be over so I could go play with my cousins and sister. What made it worse was watching them hug and kiss my other cousins so freely...yes...I was, and possibly still am, jealous.
Now though, I know what it feels like to walk into a room and receive "real" affection...feeling deeply connected and immensely peaceful. I know what it's like to be enveloped into my mother's arms..my sister...my brother...my aunts and uncle..and my grandfather.
Part of me is just so happy that I finally know what it's like to be "part" of something...part of a family that I look like and who have the same quirky sense of humor that I do...that question authority with glee and reckless abandon.
But there's this part of me that is terribly sad too. Sad that I missed out on 34 years with "my people". It hurts.
Some days I really miss the fog.
Family get togethers were always hard for me as a little girl. The minute we'd pull up in one of my uncles' driveways, I'd start to feel anxious. Because of the hugs. My mom knew how to hug me tightly to make me feel somewhat safe..but my other a-relatives didn't. They'd give me the obligatory pat on the back and send me on my way. I hated the initial walk through the door, waiting for the hugs to be over so I could go play with my cousins and sister. What made it worse was watching them hug and kiss my other cousins so freely...yes...I was, and possibly still am, jealous.
Now though, I know what it feels like to walk into a room and receive "real" affection...feeling deeply connected and immensely peaceful. I know what it's like to be enveloped into my mother's arms..my sister...my brother...my aunts and uncle..and my grandfather.
Part of me is just so happy that I finally know what it's like to be "part" of something...part of a family that I look like and who have the same quirky sense of humor that I do...that question authority with glee and reckless abandon.
But there's this part of me that is terribly sad too. Sad that I missed out on 34 years with "my people". It hurts.
Some days I really miss the fog.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Why Is It..
that sometimes the most uninvolved people are the most in tune with other's emotions? And the most involved aren't?
I was talking to my boyfriend yesterday about my reunion...he's been there from the start of it all. He'd gone to his aunt's apartment yesterday and they started talking about me, and Steven told her about how I was adopted and was dealing with the death of my natural sister's fiancee recently and how the reunion had come about and she very astutely said, "Wow, that's wonderful that now she knows who she comes from.."
On the other hand, my adoptive mother was talking to me last night and said how her foot doctor (Mom has diabetes and has a specialist for nearly every health condition you could imagine) was saying how she was adopted and had found her mother..but that her reunion hadn't gone well. That her mother had written her and they'd met a few times but that was the extent of it. I honestly think that my mother would be happier if that was the outcome of my reunion. And that kills my spirit. Not sure how to deal with it.
It seems like every time I say I'm heading out to Gloucester to visit my mother and sister, my adoptive mom says, "Oh...really?" Like it's a big surprise...or that I'm inconveniencing her...even though it's been 10 years since I've lived under the same roof as her. I think she forgets that I'm an adult sometimes. Unfortunately, so do I.
Things are coming to a head. Soon. Just not sure how to deal with the tension...and how to perform the delicate balancing act that I've grown accustomed to executing.
I was talking to my boyfriend yesterday about my reunion...he's been there from the start of it all. He'd gone to his aunt's apartment yesterday and they started talking about me, and Steven told her about how I was adopted and was dealing with the death of my natural sister's fiancee recently and how the reunion had come about and she very astutely said, "Wow, that's wonderful that now she knows who she comes from.."
On the other hand, my adoptive mother was talking to me last night and said how her foot doctor (Mom has diabetes and has a specialist for nearly every health condition you could imagine) was saying how she was adopted and had found her mother..but that her reunion hadn't gone well. That her mother had written her and they'd met a few times but that was the extent of it. I honestly think that my mother would be happier if that was the outcome of my reunion. And that kills my spirit. Not sure how to deal with it.
It seems like every time I say I'm heading out to Gloucester to visit my mother and sister, my adoptive mom says, "Oh...really?" Like it's a big surprise...or that I'm inconveniencing her...even though it's been 10 years since I've lived under the same roof as her. I think she forgets that I'm an adult sometimes. Unfortunately, so do I.
Things are coming to a head. Soon. Just not sure how to deal with the tension...and how to perform the delicate balancing act that I've grown accustomed to executing.
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