Invisible Sibling

There are so many nooks and crannies related to adoption that don’t get their cobwebs cleaned enough. One of those things is the parented sibling(s)of an adoptee. This is a very personal reality in my reunion and really not one I gave much thought to until this past week when I received a letter from my full-bio brother who is 22 months older than me and serving a two-yr prison sentence in Arizona. I can’t just summarize the letter well enough and so I will let it speak for itself:

To: My Lil’ Sis’,

I am always so happy when I get a letter from you. I miss you sooo much! I know that might sound strange, but I feel like you’er my missing link. I honestly need you in my life. How are you doing? Hopefully all is well. As for me I’m living the American dream! Lol! J/K! I’m so proud of you for graduating and for not giving up on yourself, like I have so many times before but this was the wake up call I needed. I honestly feel that God brought me here to save my life. Well I get out April 24, 2015.  At the earliest maybe January 2015, maybe! It’s funny you call me your twin cause I say the same thing. About the whole adoption, well I always thought about you and if I would ever get to meet you. Would we get along? Little did I know I was missing out on my best friend. K(our mom)is actually clean most of the time I’ve been locked up. As far as I know but with me gone for awhile I believe she can and will get sober. We enabled each other a lot so the time apart is probably a blessing in disguise. Trust me when I say that she desperately wants you in her life. I think she’s just scared to move forward but it will happen. I am confident in that. Don’t give up hope and say “fuck it”. I am a perfect example of what not to do but I’m truly changing a lot. I’ll prove it when I get out. To everyone and myself. We have missed out on a lot but when I get out were going to be siamese twins, attached at the hip. -He went on to answer some questions I asked such as favorite color, food, ect- I am singing in a rock band here and I am getting pretty good but I will let you decide for yourself soon enough. I love you and miss you dearly!

Love always,

K

Since our first conversation in June 2009, K, has been very open with me regarding his feelings on my adoption and there is deep seeded pain there for my brother. He struggles with what I would consider survivor’s guilt. Not only was I placed and was never mentioned until 2009 but also our youngest sister who had lived with them for 7-8yrs before K sent her back to her dads and they haven’t seen K in over 10years as well as the abortions our mom has had throughout the years. That had to have been a heavy load for him to carry. Always wondering why him and when he was younger probably lived with some kind of fear that he could also possibly be ‘gone’ one day from his family. I hate that he has felt so much agony about a decision he had no say in and than while growing up was never allowed to talk about it.

I wish for so many things for my big brother. I hope he uses his time in prison to work on himself in a healthy way. I hope he can one day have the picture he has always said would mean everything to him, him with his three little sisters. I hope he stays clean. I hope he will follow-thru with his plans to attend college. I hope he finds his soulmate and has the family he always wanted. In the future I hope our families can get together for the holidays and start our own traditions. I hope we don’t lose anymore time with each other. 21 years without each other was more than enough.

Since our reunion in 2009 it has been crazy to see how our relationship has evolved to this point. At this point sometimes it is hard to remember we weren’t raised together. It is a good feeling to be able to call a sibling a best friend. We were each others missing link and while we have many many things in common, our main commonality is our shared pain of the adoption for different reasons. I hope on some level her can have a sense of peace and the ability to drive forward without looking in the rearview mirror.

Adoption does not just affect the adoptive parents, birthparents and adoptee but also the very much so invisible sibling(s)that were parented by their bio parents.

 


You are Loved.

For the past week or so there has been a heaviness in my heart I can’t explain. Since I was a little girl, long before I knew I was adopted, I had this connection with someone that I didn’t even know existed for the first 14yrs of my life. I felt it and when I first saw my non-id info at 14 I finally had an answer to the misplaced connection I had felt but could never explain. It is still hard to explain. I have this connection, this bond and this overwhelming sense of love for this women who to this day I barely know. Lately, something feels off. I feel like something for her is not going okay. It could be her health is failing(she has hep C that she medically has never taken care of in the past 10+yrs), it could be she is just hurting and feeling alone with whatever burden she is carrying or she could be just fine. Whatever the reason behind my feelings she has been on my mind a great deal lately. I am not sure of where I stand currently with God but whenever she pops into my mind at any given moment of my day I say a quick prayer for her.

Selfishly, I don’t want her to die. I am terrified that I will google her name someday and an obituary pops up. I would be devastated. Selfishly, I want my time with her. I want to get to know her. I want her to be apart of my life. I don’t want her to leave this world with unanswered questions and a doubt that her daughters love her and forgive her. I know she struggles immensely with guilt and shame in regards to placing me and giving custody of my younger sister to her dad. It is painfully evident from the first moment we talked on the phone over 4 years ago. She is broken and I wish there was someway for me to tell her that we can start fresh from right here. I want to chance to tell her that she is enough just the way she is. She doesn’t need to be perfect for me to love her. She doesn’t need to be perfect for me to want her in my life. This is so selfish of me to want these things from her. I wonder if I will ever get the opportunity to spend time with her when she is sober. Will the day ever come that she calls me just to talk? Will she ever let go of her demons and let her daughters love her?

If she knew I was graduating in June would she even care? She knows about Asher but does she ever wish she could see pictures? Does she ever dream about having her three kids all-together at once? Does she think of us? Does she wonder what she could have done differently? If she was offered the chance to get sober would she take it?

I just hope that wherever she is she knows she is loved.


Happy 3rd Birthday lil’ Dude

“Breathe Again” – Sara Bareilles

“Car is parked, bags are packed, but what kind of heart doesn’t look back

At the comfortable glow from the porch, the one I will still call yours?
All those words came undone and now I’m not the only one
Facing the ghosts that decide if the fire inside still burns

All I have, all I need, he’s the air I would kill to breathe
Holds my love in his hands, still I’m searching for something
Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I’ll breathe again
I’ll breathe again

Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth
And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view
Hang my head, break my heart built from all I have torn apart
And my burden to bear is a love I can’t carry anymore

All I have, all I need, he’s the air I would kill to breathe
Holds my love in his hands, still I’m searching for something
Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I’ll breathe again

It hurts to be here
I only wanted love from you
It hurts to be here
What am I gonna do?

All I have, all I need, he’s the air I would kill to breathe
Holds my love in his hands, still I’m searching
All I have, all I need, he’s the air I would kill to breathe
Holds my love in his hands, still I’m searching for something
Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I’ll breathe again
I’ll breathe again”

Love, Always


Getting Real.

I want to get real. It isn’t like I haven’t been real or honest but as much as I have shared there is as much that I haven’t. Three months ago I felt something shift in me. I had just moved to a new place. People I had never met, a place as far from home as I could get and still be in the states. It was freeing and it was wonderful to be so far away. I think maybe I had thought being so far away would give me a release. I hadn’t realized how I had imprisoned myself the past few years. Being in this new environment I think subconsciously I had let myself go and let myself be me. That scared me. Me, is not something I have been in a long time.

Rape. What do you instantly think of when you hear or see that word? I envision violence. You? I don’t even like the word rape. I always say sexual assault. My vision is wrong. It is this feeling of immense weight and pressure upon someone helpless. The pressure of unwanted advances or the weight of someone unwillingly forcing you to move and feel things they do not want to be feeling. The way it feels is so different then you can imagine. Sweat and saliva falling onto my face, my chest. The things I felt because I could not will myself to open my eyes. If I could just keep them closed and move to the rhythm of his body maybe this isn’t what it started out to be? Your mind races so fast, thinking of so many scenarios to make this a right one. If I could explain the pressure I would! It’s immense and not in the way you are probably thinking. Its the racing thoughts, thinking of your next to move like what happens next?  Is this even what it was? Did this just happen? I am ok? I am ok. No physical indications of this ‘incident’. It’s my fault. I did this. This happened because I am who I am, I look the way I look and I encouraged this kind of attention. There is nothing that can make this right or dare I say wrong? Feeling as if I could only find this inner strength to move in a superhuman feat to move in a way you never thought you could. I failed to find this super strength and that would be fail #1. So my feeling ended there, in seconds. It only took seconds for my body to realize this was a useless feat to attempt to pull off and to go away. It just went and for the past 3 and half years, it has stayed away. Stayed away as in; CIA top secret, back of my mind in a small locked box put away. I don’t go there and if I do or someone else does I have found many ways to skirt around the topic. It has been almost too easy to place the blame on myself for being alone, drinking(one drink)alone, and for accepting a drink bought by a stranger. Then weeks after it happened and I found myself pregnant, the only thing I I could think was “fuck, this does not happen in real life”…no really, it was really the only thing that came to mind. Once again, this leads into many scenarios. Do I tell people what happened? because at this point, my reality of this part of my life was brief and shattered into many pieces of which I could not place into chronological order as if it was once a mirror and then shattered. Ya, you go ahead and try to put those pieces back together, impossible. There were no words I could say or use to describe what happened. It’s only been 3.5yrs. I can’t imagine what another 10, 20, 30 yrs will shed light on this experience for me. The past three weeks have been so depressing and that weight…I feel it. I wake up in the middle of the night and that instant panic of pressure surrounds me. It is suffocating. It is a ball and chain. As I sit here and write this, there is this inner fearlessness and will to stand up to this challenge but when push comes to shove I will crumble in an instant. It is sad, deafening and leaves me incredibly useless throughout the day. I am so close to graduation I can taste it but yet another 9 months in this place seems just, heavy. I yearn for the day I can leave here. 

Despite that experience in my life…the best thing to ever happen to me was born. I know it seems ridiculous, crazy and I should not put this on someone else but I am not, Asher saved my life. He is what gets me through every day. He did not ask for this. He has no concept of any of this.  He is pure innocence and that is what gets me through every minute, every day, graduation and I know at some point I am going to have to find something else to get me through everyday but for now…it is him. And for what little threads I am grasping at I will take this rope, willingly.

This is no longer a repression but a revelation. No more.

 

 


Why hello there

I’m still here. I got a job on the East Coast and traveled a bit after I was done. Got home about two weeks ago, worked a temp job in my old hometown for two weeks and finally am now home! So nice to be in my own bed AND for the first time in years I am able to have my dog with me. She is my best friend and it is amazing to be able to have her with me finally!

Senior year! It has taken me so long with many detours to finally get to this point and I can’t believe it. It will be a very busy year. I am working a full time job in a residential treatment facility for juveniles, interning 16-20hrs a week as an independent living case worker in a government agency, along with school. Definitely busy but for me keeping busy is the best for right now.

My parents divorce was finalized over the summer. Which was far more messy than anticipated but in the end my dad bought a house in another town and moved in my youngest brother, his girlfriend and my niece. Since the divorce my mom has cut all contact with us. I went to her house(house I grew up in)to get my dog and a box I had left there before coming back here and she had a guy staying over. She was manic and drinking, which makes her a complete handful. She won’t stop smiling, laughing and incessantly talking about who knows what. I tried to spend time with her but I ended up leaving before dinner because she was loudly(and she knew I was in the next room within earshot)trash-talking my dad to this guy and brought up the fact my dad has always liked me more than her, I was always his favorite and he ignored her if I was around. It made me uncomfortable to hear her say all of these things to this guy. It would have made me uncomfortable if it was just a private conversation between us even. A few years ago I would have blamed myself for the demise of their 30+yr marriage but at this point, hell no. I am done trying to be a good daughter and attempt to keep the relationship somewhat intact. Relationships are two-way streets and there is no trying on her part, ever! Maybe I have finally come to a place of accepting that this is a relationship that needs to over for now.

My biodad called me for the first time in four years. My biobrother was sentenced to almost three years in prison. My biomom started using again after two years sober. Asher’s adoption is now closed. I have so many things to say about adoption right now but I can’t even will myself to go there. It has become a very emotional subject for me. I think as a self preservation tool my mind has put adoption into the denial box. One thing I will say about what is going through my mind is: adoption has made me feel incredibly isolated and alone, not just right now but throughout my life. I have always been very independent and always made sure I never needed to rely on anyone. Well, maybe I need to just give it up. Let someone in. Lean on someone else for awhile or at least have someone to talk to(other than a therapist). I just don’t have anyone like that where I live and honestly most people my age aren’t good with stuff like this. Not to mention, I don’t know anyone around here that would even understand.

Thankfully, I was living on the other side of the states during all of this and for that I am incredibly thankful. Now, it is back to reality and keeping myself busy to deal with this all on another day.


Want to go wedding dress shopping?

Yea, no I am not getting married. I am not dating anyone either. I am happily single thank you very much. Actually no, in all seriousness I am pretty happy about it. Although I am getting fairly irritated with the constant badgering about my single status at the old maid age of 25. My grandma recently asked again if she could buy my wedding dress. Okay, grandma I know you are in your 90′s and in your era things were different but 25 and single is okay, I promise. I think she might think there is something wrong with me, that I have never dated.

When people find out I have never dated, never had a single boyfriend, I either am asked if I am lesbian or if I am too picky. Why does it matter? No, for the record I am not a lesbian and is being picky such a bad thing? The thing is I am not being picky, I just don’t care. I am somewhat of a mess and I can barely keep the relationships I have currently so why bring someone else into all of this crazy. I am not religious by any means but I was raised in a very religious home. Maybe that also plays into it. I have never believed in dating just to date. If I am not ready to get married than I see absolutely no point in dating.

Yea, that is all I have to say about that just to clear all that up.


I’ll Never Know

Kinda thought I was a mystery and then I thought I wasn’t meant to be

- Imagine Dragons

I’ll probably never know the real me. The person who I was supposed to be or should have been. Adoption plays a big role in this. I believe my personality would ultimately be the same. The things that make me, me would not be different. I will never know what I could have been or how I could have ended up.

I had an incredibly rude wake up call this past week. It sent me nosediving into the abyss of self hatred, anxiety and wanting answers to questions that I may never get to ask and even if I did would probably not get an answer. At least not the one I want to hear.

I am taking a statistics class next quarter and since it is math based I decided to finally turn in my disabilities paperwork so if I needed the help I would have everything taken care of ahead of time. Everyone who needs help through disability services has to have their initial interview with the director. So I turn in all my paperwork the day before so he can be prepared for our meeting. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach before I ever walked into this meeting. I almost cancelled. We get to talking and when we were done talking about the help I could receive, I asked him how the GRE would work for me concerning my learning disability. I would like to take it this coming October. He told me that there is nothing that can be done in terms of help for the GRE. I wasn’t too upset to hear that considering getting my masters in social work is my plan b. Working in healthcare has always been my top choice. With only two years left before I would be ineligible to receive financial aid. I decided to get my undergrad in social work because if I tried my absolute hardest to get into a Physician Assistant or Nurse Practitioner program and was not accepted than I could say at least I gave it my all. Then and only then would I feel comfortable staying in social work. So after hearing that I asked him about chemistry and what help I could receive with that. Nothing. I can’t receive help with chemistry whatsoever because it is not a math class. He asked me what the last university I was at said about it. Well they told me that getting into their nursing program would not happen for me. They have hundreds of 4.0 students applying for 60 spots once a year. He gets this look on his face and he says “well, when I was looking over your paperwork I noticed the psychologist pointed out the fact there is a chance your birthmom used cocaine while she was pregnant with you”. I interrupted him and told him that I don’t necessarily believe her. There were a lot of hurtful things she said during our first phone conversation and in my mind it just seemed like she was trying to get me to hate her or not want a relationship with her. So I completely brushed it off as another of her hurtful comments. I never really thought of it again until a year after hearing that piece of information I went in to get tested for a learning disability, to see if my childhood ADHD was contributing at all and IQ testing. Getting this testing done is quite a process. Four days of interrogating, ridiculous questions, games and then after all the testing is done the psychologist has you come in and talk about the results. The first session is literally a 3hr interrogation from your mothers pregnancy with you, their education and their parents education, your upbringing, academic career, ect. When the question was asked if my mother took any substances while pregnant came up I just told him what I had been told but also threw it in there that I don’t really think she was telling the truth. When I think of a baby exposed to drugs in utero, I certainly don’t think of me as a baby as one of those babies. I walked at 9months, was talking early and have been that way my whole life. So when this disability services supervisor told me I should take a hard look at my life and maybe not to completely dismiss this information I just started bawling. He went on to mention that my dream of being a NP or PA is just not in the cards for me as I “need to realize my deficiencies and face reality”. I really wanted to tell him to f*** off.

So when I got back to my car I just sat there fuming mad. I am not sure I have ever been so angry. Someone who is supposed to help those most struggling academically should not treat people the way he treated me. As if I was somehow damaged by something completely out of my control than tells me there really isn’t much that can be done for me as far as their services are concerned because free tutoring is reserved for first generation college students and minorities. Yea, my $500+paperwork to finally find out what was keeping me from succeeding academically does not help me in getting any help whatsoever.

So now I wonder why I am in college. An undergrad social work degree is practically useless without a masters degree. I can expect to make 14-15 dollars an hour with just this degree. Nice. I should have stayed at my old job that paid that but without my student loan debt I have accrued over the years. What exactly was the point of college again?! Grad school will be difficult to get into since so many require the GRE. NP & PA programs are already competitive and than to add on top of that my first two years of college were a complete bomb and my chemistry grades if I pass are not going to be close to an A. So I feel like I have a lot against me.

I am pretty angry at my birthmom too. I never wanted to be pregnant. I did not want that at all but I did what I had to do to make sure Asher was healthy. I went to the doctor like I was supposed to, Took the medicine I needed when I got gestational diabetes. I listened to the doctor when he put me on partial bed rest for pre-eclampsia. I ate healthy, I exercised. I did what I could to make sure he was okay. Yet my married(to my birthdad)22yr old birthmom chose to continue using drugs after she knew she was pregnant with me and not only that but chose to share this information during our first phone call! Ouch, that freakin stings!

I really wanted to call my dad and tell him how upset I was after that meeting. Except, I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him that I was essentially damaged goods and the choice of words the social worker chose to use on my non-id info “healthy, attractive female child” were rather inaccurate along with 90% of the information provided in those three pages. I know my mom wishes I would have come with a return policy or at least a receipt for some kind of refund. I have never been what she wanted or expected. I am me, I was me…nothing I did as a toddler should have been enough to make her not want me the way she did. So telling her this information would just add another fact to the growing list of imperfections that keep her from wanting me in her life.

I am assuming I will never know the truth about my birthmoms drug use while she was pregnant with me. I do have clues that when I piece them all together does tell a tale of whether or not she is telling the truth. I had mild sensory processing disorder. Clothes with tags, the seams in socks, underwear. It all bothered me. Being touched or held as a kid would never happen as I would scream bloody murder like I was in immense pain. I have always had terrible insomnia even as an infant. 4-6hrs sleep a night is great for me! I was also diagnosed with ADHD at age 6 and I was on Ritalin for 6 years. I know you can grow out of ADHD but when I was re-tested at 14yrs old I was told there was no way I had ADHD then or maybe even never. When a child suffers emotional abuse as a child it completely changes their brain because of the high levels of the stress hormone cortisol maps new pathways in the brain and also causing hypervigilance that mimics ADHD in children. It would explain a lot. I don’t know…it would make sense but I just don’t want to believe my birthmom really never wanted me or wants a relationship with me :/


My lack of writing has been motivated by my lack of really anything to say. A lot has happened but it just is and I can’t do anything about most of what has been transpiring. I have a lot going on. School this quarter has proved to be just draining. Not academically, just this is what happens. I self sabotage when I do well in school. I did really well last quarter and it was the first time I had ever gotten good grades in all of my classes. I felt good but at the same time I know I did not work as hard as I could have.

My grandma was in a serious car accident the day before Thanksgiving and I just so happened to be where she was being airlifted to and was able to spend the majority of Thanksgiving with her and other family members. Including my mom who had blown me off time and time again over the course of 2012. This was no different. Every word or action that came out of her mouth was like I had no right to be concerned about the well being of my grandma. When I left to return to school I didn’t think I would ever see my grandma alive again. It was bad and to see her like that, sedated and in pain but unable to speak, move, do anything was terrifying. Her voice played through my head with everything she would be saying about the situation “oh for pete’s sake, don’t worry about me, I’m fine”. She did email me a week or so before the accident to tell me she wishes we could have Thanksgiving like we used to when I was little, all the family together. Well I consoled myself with the thought that grandma pretty much got her wish. Most of the family was there. After I left my mom would not answer my calls or emails to get status updates on my grandma. So I was getting updates from my cousin. Then my mom spewed out some BS about HIPAA laws which was completely inaccurate but to someone who is unaware of all of that I can see why my cousin stopped updating me. I just could not wrap my head around the fact that my mom would not share any updates about grandma. How selfish! Long story short my 91yr old grandma is walking, 5months ahead of schedule and is able to return home whenever she feels she is ready. This was not the outcome that was projected when I left at Thanksgiving. Social workers were coming in with bereavement information and doctors were saying she just needs to be stable enough to get through this surgery, than the next and than even more. I got to go see her the day after her 91st birthday and it was so good to see her and she was surprisingly my grandma. She hadn’t changed one bit and she was her usual spicy self whom me and my cousin would giggle about under the covers when we were supposed to be sleeping when we were little. We always wanted her to dye her hair blue and go roller skating with us. We would stay up all night laughing about how much fun that would be and all the funny off color things she would say. We told her about our plan at some point and her typical response of “oh for pete’s sake” was uttered for the hundreth time. I have never heard anyone use that phrase but my grandma uses it all the time and it’s hilarious.

When I was at my dad’s, I got to spend time with my niece. She is six months old already! She is adorable and seriously the best baby ever. She never cries, could care less about having anyone or anything to entertain her, she prefers to watch and listen to everything going on around her. She loves to grab your hands and pull herself to standing and will do some version of a baby squat over and over and over again. I have never spent any length of time with babies but she is fun to be around since she just prefers to chill. I tell my brother she will probably give them hell when she gets older to make up for their lack of sleepless nights now.

I have not received any updates on the little dude. It doesn’t come as a surprise anymore when the 7th of each month passes with not a word from them. I don’t know how I feel about it. I keep it all wrapped inside my head and I can’t access any of it. I have to believe he is thriving, happy, healthy and has a good family. What else am I supposed to do?

My parents are in the throes of divorce paperwork. Finally. As it all becomes more real and solidified its weird. As a child going through divorce you are told you are living with this parent and visiting this parent on these days, every other holidays are spent here and stuff like that. As an adult, geez…I don’t even know what to do or think. I obviously think this is a good decision and I am hopeful this will be a good thing for my dad. I don’t like feeling like I am picking sides but c’mon lets be honest…my mom did this to herself. My dad has been trying to keep the marriage together for over 10yrs and my mom is the one who accused him of domestic violence(if you knew my dad you would laugh too)and chose not to be a mom to the three of her kids. What does she expect?! I have felt incredibly guilty over our relationship lately. My therapist told me I should not feel that way. A relationship takes two and she obviously wants no part of it so why waste my energy on someone who has no desire to want to have a relationship. With everything that happened with my grandma, I couldn’t help but think what would I do in that situation if it was my mom. Would I be the good daughter and be by her side? Or would I be a concerned bystander? It makes me feel like crap that I could not answer this. I want to be able to definitively say I would be the good daughter. I can’t though. I have tried to email her more often in a half-ass effort to keep her up to date. I sent her an email about my grades and my tentative summer job and even went out on a limb to invite her over to my place for my 25th birthday and her response was this:

“What specific character qualities, or behaviors does grandma have to cause so many people to say to me ” I just love your mother”?
Thank you for your input and observations.”
What is that? I do not even know how to respond? Anyone have any ideas? What is the motive behind this? Wouldn’t someone be happy that so many people love her mother and because so many people love my grandma she is rarely without visitors on a day to day basis. To me that is amazing and I am so thankful my grandma has all of these friends! So I didn’t know how to respond so I didn’t. This morning I get this email titled “Feeling Pressured“:
“It isn’t a good time for me to visit you.  It would be fun but I have some more pressing things that need to be taken care of.”
Why does she have to put it that way. As if I care, I mean really…the last time I ever saw her around my birthday was over 6-7yrs ago. Last year she was in Europe and this year there are more pressing matters. I don’t mean to sound as if because it is my 25th she should feel obligated to spend time with me, nah, but she could have just said it wouldn’t work out instead of making it sound I was some distant acquaintance she was just avoiding. I guess in reality that is what our relationship is.
Therapy has been good I guess. I don’t think therapy is ever fun, haha. We have been discussing what I know about my birthfamily and my early years. First phone call with my birthmom she threw out there that she had used cocaine for a great deal of her pregnancy with me. I never put much weight into this revelation though. Although as time goes by in therapy we have discussed if this could be a possibility. There is no way to know the truth about this but looking back it makes a lot of sense, even current things. I hate being touched. As a baby I refused to be held and would fight like crazy to get away. I had a strange sensitivity to the feel of clothing and food. Even as a baby I had insomnia. I would just lay awake in my crib for hours entertaining myself. I know this because my foster mom kept a daily log about me for the future adoptive parents. Low birth weight(this could also be attributed to the fact my birthmom smoked a pack a day). This information obviously does change me or the way I do things. Leaving therapy after discussing this I became fairly angry. I don’t get it. Even though my pregnancy was miserable, unplanned and I never fully grasped the fact I was pregnant I would never have used drugs while pregnant. I am hurt that my birthmom would so freely divulge this information. Makes me feel like I really never mattered to her and that will never change. It is actually a lot to take in even though I have had this knowledge for almost 5yrs. Does this explain certain things about my behavior and overall weird things that make me, me? I guess it really isn’t something to dwell on or think if she had not done drugs what would I be like.
There is more but I won’t bore myself or anyone else. I have been tentatively offered a job in Maine for the summer so that would be fun. I am going to make a point of it to blog more often. It is a good release and after going so long without writing I forget that.

 

 

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In spite of you

About a week ago my mother sent me and my two brothers essentially a get out of my life email. Yea, have verbally heard it and have felt it so many times over the years but never seen it written. I am at my dad’s currently and it is so weird to me that she has no idea I am in town. She has not bothered to reach out. Despite her email I have tried for who knows what reason to get ahold of her. Punishing myself? Asking for a shit-storm, yea probably…

In spite of you…

I am a stronger person than you will ever know.

I innately knew even when I was a little kid, before I knew I was adopted, that I was not what you wanted. A used item with no receipt for a return. For that, I am sorry. I am sorry that your fairy tale of motherhood was shattered with infertility. I am sorry that you had to resort to plan b. I am sorry I was not the blue-eyed, blonde-haired doll you had dreamed of probably since you were a little girl. Except, here is the thing; this is not my burden to bear. It is yours and yours alone. To place your expectations of your biological ghost child on me was wrong. You were wrong. I can never tell you this to your face because in the end I will agree with you, it actually was me, wasn’t it? I am not strong enough, nor brave enough to ever face you and tell you how it was for me because as our relationship in the past has shown we both live out own reality. You live in a state of delusion while the rest of your family is just trying to survive the hurricane that just blew through. So, in spite of you…I will be hap
py. I will live the life I was meant to live. I will not let you manipulate our relationship to your every whim and desire. I will not let you infiltrate your poison into any of my future relationships. I am done trying to please you, to make you proud of me. It is not worth the disappointment and the way my heart shatters into even more pieces than I thought it ever could before. I will not let you make ashes of my heart. Sadly, I thought being rejected by my birthmom was a blow to my heart. Surprisingly, this hurts worse because I was supposed to be wanted, chosen and special because isn’t that what adoption is supposed to be about?! I am special because I was longed for and chosen to live a life supposedly better than the one my birthmother could have given me?! Ah, to have been so naive of me to believe those lies. I deserved better than you. You were supposed to want me, love me unconditionally, to always be there, to be my biggest cheerleader and to be the first person I called when anything exciting or devastating is happening in my life. You were supposed to be my kids grandmother but most of all you were supposed to be my mom. Whatever your reasons are now, I don’t want to hear them. I gave you years and years to want to be there. Don’t expect me to be on the other end of the line when you call or when your pleading emails go unopened.

I hope one day you realize what you have missed out on. I don’t want to even think of what you will go through when that day comes but I hope you get it then. I don’t wish you agony, nor death just understanding. I hope you understand when you come to the realization of all that you have missed that it wasn’t for anyone’s lack of trying at this point. You had a wonderful husband who would(and sadly still would)do anything for you. You have three kids who all missed out on you. Three kids who counted on you and you let down. And the worst part is you made me think I wasn’t good enough. You made me believe I was not lovable. You let me sit in my room and cry myself to sleep for years thinking there was something wrong with me! I really am going to have to work very hard at learning to forgive you for that. I missed out on relationships because I thought I was not worth it. No person should ever feel that way! Everyone deserves to have someone love them. No one is unlovable! Shame on you for letting your kids go throughout life feeling that way. I am accepting of my responsibility in life and I can take the blame for many decisions that were made out of shame, lack of self-esteem and utter fear but I hope that even though you will never know the things you took from me, that some of that responsibility is yours to share as well.

There are some positive things I want to say despite it all: I still am here. I survived with crocodile thick skin(too bad not a bite that matches). I still look forward to everyday, smiling. I have friends who like me. I have an amazing son who will never know what it is like to feel unloved. I have a dog who thinks I create all the happiness in her life and no matter what she thinks I am the coolest person alive. And the best thing is…because of you I am stronger. Without the roadblocks placed in my life, I would not be the person I am today. I wouldn’t aspire to want more than the comfortable life I might have led. Even better yet…none of my kids will ever experience a childhood like mine. My kids will know I love them more than anything. There will be endless days of laughing, hugs, scaring away monsters, drying tears, kissing boo-boos, blanket fort building, make-believe and doing the absolute best I can to be the mother I wish I could have had. I owe it to you though, cause who knows…maybe I could have been you at some point in time.

I can’t waste my anger, my sadness and my life on this dead-end relationship anymore. I may not believe it now but somehow I have to trust and believe I am worth more than this. I honestly think I would have made you proud in another life. I have no more years or tears for you left in me to give. So with that; I am officially a wayward soul, an unlost wanderer and a bit rough around the edges just to add some more spice to my already zesty life and I guess a truly motherless daughter.


Loss of Control.

All of my life I have felt like it was controlled by somebody else. I am trying to learn how to take back control. To be the one holding the reins. Growing up in a home controlled by a very abusive mother and a co-dependent father it was just absolute chaos. There was constant yelling and fighting, I could never get away. I grew up in the middle of nowhere. 30mins to the nearest gas station, store, anything like that. I had no neighbors. It wasn’t like I could walk to a neighbors house to play or go to the park just to get away. Me and my brothers were stuck. I had no way to assert myself because anytime I did I was in some way minimized. When I tried to tell my dad that mom had really hurt my feelings the reply was always “she is fragile, she probably doesn’t mean it, we just have to be gentle with her”. I always wondered why we had to be gentle with her but when it came to everyone else it was a free-for-all. Maybe I was fragile. Maybe I needed someone to be gentle with me. My dad was her punching bag, us kids got it too and we were all fair game to be verbally assaulted with whatever verbal warfare she chose to spew on that particular day. She got mad that my dad would drive me to a friends house. She tried to turn my dad against me or vice versa. My room was in-between hers and my dads. So no matter where they were arguing I could hear everything. My mom told me once that I was a better wife than she was, that I should just marry my dad because I was better at it. Those are the kinds of the things she would say to get me to feel uncomfortable around my dad or whatever. So I just isolated. I felt there was no one in that house who was safe anymore. I had no control.

The OCD-ish type behaviors started when I was really young. I could not sleep if my room was messy or things were out of order. I am still that way. One way to control my environment. I don’t think I ever had to be told to clean my room growing up. The weird eating habits. My mom would keep all non-perishables locked up. So unless it was going to go bad it was in her room. So our food outside of her was very very limited. Milk, cheese, sour cream, vegetables, fruit; that was what we had if we were hungry. So that was also very early on that I started to control my food intake. In fact all three of us kids have issues with food. My youngest brother is a hoarder; he saves food like crazy and will eat it sparingly over a period of time. Middle brother is a binge eater; the guy can eat 5000 calories in one sitting, twice a day and then not eat for a long period of time. I chose restricting at first and then it turned into binging and purging and it has always varied between one or the other for the last 15yrs or so.

As I got older and became aware of the fact I had no control I just went out of control. I was 14 when I found out I was adopted, another thing I had no control over and it just sent me spiraling into a tailspin of self destructive behaviors. Promiscuity, drugs, alcohol, spending money I didn’t have, ect…

When I went to college the first time I realized I could take back some control of my life. It was a good feeling. I stopped using and was overall doing really well. Then I was raped. Once again the complete and utter lack of control stopped me in my tracks. I feel stuck there still. Your parent controlling you in an abusive manipulative way is one thing but to be completely overtaken by a stranger for their gain is just, there are no words. Then to get pregnant for that; once again no words to describe how it felt to feel trapped in this body, mind and place that I wanted nothing to do with.

I don’t know where I am going with this. I am just trying to sort this all out in my head…this lack or maybe it is only a perceived lack of control. I am not sure. I know I am taking steps to becoming in control and I know I am in control of things in my life now but now that I have the control it is foreign in my hands. I don’t know what to do with it. It freaks me out completely. It makes me want to run in another irresponsible direction. That won’t be happening but it is terrifying to finally have some control of my life and I literally am too afraid to do anything with it. I feel like a car out of control on black ice, finally hit a dry patch gets some control, straightens out and then hits another patch of ice only to start spinning again with no control.


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