There is no point to this post.

I had this post all written out in my head, but as usual, I come to write it all out and my brain won’t hand the words over. Stubborn.

I was just thinking about things. Lots of things and it is hard to sort them all out from amidst everything floating in my mind.

So much of my childhood is full of chaos and bad stuff, I never really mention the good things. There were good things, I don’t remember many but the times I do remember…they were good. Even so many of my good memories though are littered with bad, so I edit out the small bad because it makes for such a good memory. I like to remember those brief moments of the calm before the storm. As I got older it was much harder to cherish the good because the good was always followed by the worst bad. Quite literally the calm before the storm. I guess yesterday in therapy all of that was brought up and it is a hard pill to swallow no matter how many times the fact is brought up that many things that happened in my life growing up was not right. The word abuse, I get pretty upset when that word is used to depict my childhood. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t work for me. Maybe I am using it as a way to savor the better times. I find therapy incredibly frustrating. I know things need to be brought up in order to deal with them, but dang…what am I supposed to do with myself after therapy? I just walk out of there with all of these emotions brewing and I have no where to put them. There are SO many reasons why I do not deal with things, because maybe I can’t or I don’t know how too. Way to rip a band-aid off an unhealed wound and leave it just out there in the open! Yes, let’s do this and than send me on my way home. Brilliant! Can’t get home fast enough to grab a drink or go for a lung burning run. I truly have no where to store all of those feelings, there are too damn many and I really have no idea how to deal with it. Or I guess in a healthy way.

What I wanted to say with that is…I think my childhood was pretty good. I can’t really complain. So many have it worse. Geez, I never even had to ask for a pony growing up, one was handed right to me. What young girl wouldn’t think she just died and went to heaven?! Granted, I was not much of a pony person…I assume partly because I never had to want one. I’m just saying, it couldn’t have all been bad.

This all got me thinking about how I feel about Asher. Even though I am not his mom and I am not raising him, I still would do anything for him. I would love him no matter what. I can’t fathom not loving him no matter what or not being willing to do anything for him. Yet, that wasn’t the case for my parents. Not for my adoptive parents nor my birth parents. I guess for my birth parents, it bugs me they don’t care, but not as much as my adoptive parents. I figure my adoptive parents really wanted kids and yet the way my brothers and I were raised were not indicative of this. I don’t really know what to make of it. Am I supposed to wave it off as mental illness(in my mom’s case)? Or lack of assertiveness(in my dad’s case)to stand up to my mom and take control of situations that got far too out of hand? People make mistakes. Yea, I know that. I give them the full benefit of the doubt. I just can’t imagine treating Asher the way that any four of the people that did or could have raised me have treated my siblings and I. I don’t know what I am even trying to get at, but I cannot wrap my head around it. Maybe there is a bit of resentment there on my part? I don’t know.

On the school front. I feel this semester is a total bust. What was I even thinking I could do this? Yea right. I was given the advice to e-mail all of my professors and see if instead of failing me just to give me incomplete’s since it is far too late to withdraw(and I have no more withdrawals left). I am in the process of seeing how this will affect financial aid. I am pretty pissed off at myself. Actually a bit beyond pissed, but that is beside the point.

…and there was no point to this post. Apologies.

 

 

 

It’s hard to say goodbye
When I’m holding out my hands
Holding out my hands for love
That opened my eyes
Filled with tears that never dry
For you the angels cry

Goodnight, goodnight, my sweet love you’re
Beautiful
Goodnight, goodnight, the stars up above
Will be bright
Despite a love bound and broken from the start
Goodnight, my beautiful goodbye

It’s hard to comprehend
Our beginning is the end
Of a love that never had
A chance to dance with you
So I choose to take this pain
And wish for more to say than

Goodnight, goodnight, my sweet love you’re
Beautiful
Goodnight, goodnight, the stars up above
Will be bright
Despite a love bound and broken from
The start
Goodnight, my beautiful goodbye

Oh sweet angel of mine
Gone to sail through the night
In m heart you’ll always be
I hope that you’ll remember me wherever you are

Goodnight, goodnight, my sweet love you’re
Beautiful
Goodnight, goodnight, stare up above will
Be bright
Despite a love bound and broken from the start
Goodbye, Goodnight
Oh, Goodnight, goodnight, my sweet love
You’re beautiful
Goodnight, goodnight, the stars up above
Will be bright
Despite a love bound and broken from the start
Goodnight, my beautiful goodbye

-Beautiful Goodbye by Josh Kelley


3 responses to “There is no point to this post.

  • findingchristopher

    I also have the problem of the thoughts swirling around, but my brain not handing over the words, so I know what you are talking about. It sucks.

    I understand so much of your post, but there is one thing you said that I believe is wrong. You said that “even though I am not his mom..”. You ARE still his mom, adoption cannot take away your motherhood. Adoption only takes away the parenting, not the mom. And you are and always will be a great mom to Asher. You will be a better mom to your son than your mothers were to you.

    As far as being pissed at yourself because of school, be kind to yourself. You had no idea how adoption was going to effect your life. You can’t change this last semester, all you can do is pick up from right now and try your best from now on.

    Lastly, thanks for the song. Music has always played a big part in my life, and this song is beautiful. Sad. True. Beautiful.

  • lianotjuno

    Email your professors. They can’t help you if you don’t ask for help. Explain your circumstances if you’re comfortable doing so. Sometimes you just need to cash in on your shitty situations – I know I want to say I’m strong and I can do this and shit, but frankly my teachers are giving me a lot of much-needed leeway. But they can only do that because I asked for it.

    Now, therapy is tough. It’s real tough. But I am SO GLAD you are doing it. In the long run, it will really help. I know it’s super hard to find, like… healthy outlets for the stuff you feel. I don’t have any suggestions, just wanted to say I know it’s hard.

    I feel like, you really love Asher. But eventually, you might have to just put that love in a box in order to get on with your life, you know? I’ve heard people who said they had to do that. And it sounds like something I’m gonna have to do. I feel like your birthparents probably did that – put the love they had for you in a box so that they could try to keep functioning in their lives. Over time, that box can just get smaller and smaller. Who knows?

    As for your adoptive parents… there’s no excuse there. They suck.

  • findingchristopher

    “Over time, that box can just get smaller and smaller”

    That’s one thing the adoption agencies don’t tell us moms. The love never gets smaller, it only grows with time. You may be able to go into denial like I and others did for survival, but one day you will come to know the truth. And the lost years finally catching up on you are horrendous.

    It took me almost 30 years, but I finally realized that I loved my son who I lost to adoption just as much as the three I went on to raise. I am now trying to come to terms with the last 31 years, how being in denial effected my life ~ and not for the better…

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