Blogosphere.

Quite a few of the blogs I read frequently discuss the bad adoption story lines that seem to be ALL over TV and movies these days. I honestly watch so few of these shows and the ones I do watch I could honestly care less about that I don’t really invest much emotional thought into. Lately Glee has been the topic and yea I will admit I only started watching this show because of the adoption story line and then promptly dropped it after two episodes because it is such a boring show in general.

A blog I read The Chronicles of Munchkin Land wrote a post on Glee and how Quinn deals with it. Um, wow…

             ”Yes, she’s hurting. Yes, she’s a freaking mess. You don’t relinquish your child without some kind of freaking mess. The best of us are able to talk it out with unbiased counselors who have experience with birth parent grief and loss. The worst of us… they don’t make it. The ones in between, the majority of us, try to find ways to piece it all together, to make it work, to enjoy the good, to grieve the bad, to make some sense of the hurt, the pain and the fear. Some of us hide the freaking mess better than others. Sometimes even those who are masters of disguise fall apart in public sometimes when we’re poked or prodded or put on display as some kind of role model — for the good or the bad. And I can assure you that not one of us wants to be a freaking mess. I don’t enjoy the hole in my heart. I don’t like how, as her birthday draws near, my first instinct is to hole up within myself, curl into a ball and hold very still until it all passes. I don’t wish this pain, this hurt, this emptiness on even my worst of enemies. I understand those who lash out in anger. I understand those who put on the happy face. I understand those who turn to alcohol or drugs. I understand those who put on the ambivalent face of disinterest. I’ve done it all — save for drugs and alcohol (and probably only the latter because my kidney disorder makes me a rather cheap date). I understand that all of that comes back to the hurt, the ache and wanting someone, anyone — just one damn person — to understand how it feels. To ask you if you’re okay. To sit in silence with you as you stare at her picture on her birthday.

 

That hit me so hard that it is still resonating with me after having read it when she first posted it.

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