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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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.

Adoption Blogger Interview Project 2012: Jillie

The Adoption Blogger Interview Project 2012 is here! I am very excited to say I was paired with one of my best friends in the adoption community, Jillie. She interviewed me as well and that will be posted on her blog Idiot Girls Life Post Adoption. Jillie is my long lost sister, my confidant, my biggest supporter and just an amazing friend this past year. We co-admin a birthmom support group together which has been challenging and rewarding but I wouldn’t do it without my Jillie Bean! We are also apart of a new project called Adoption Truth Is where we answer questions in video format. It is new and just getting started but so far so good! When we are old and gray we plan on living in a compound full of other misfit women and our myriad of pets. Sometimes I don’t think we are kidding Anyway, I hope everyone reading will enjoy the lovely Jillie’s interview:

1. You have a great open adoption from what you say, could you
elaborate why your open adoption works so well? What do both parties
have to do in order for an open adoption work?

I wish I could take all the responsibility for this but really I am
only a small part of this.  Chuck, Melissa and Little man are all part
of this too.  While little man is to little to realize what’s going on
right now so it’s mainly Chuck and Melissa.  I like to think I work
hard at being respectful of their boundaries honestly most of it is
them.  When they made a commitment to have an open adoption they took
it very seriously.  They have always gone above and beyond in all that
they do.  I don’t consider them just little man’s parents, I consider
them my friends and much more like family.  So me being the raging
egomaniac that  I am would like to take credit for all of this and I
would love to say it’s just because I am so fabulous it has very
little to do with me and a whole heck of a lot more to do with them.

2. What are your feelings on adoption? How do support someone looking
into placing? Prospective adoptive parents looking into adoption?
After adoption has already taken place; how do you support a
birthparent or adoptive parent?

You know to me support comes in many forms and this is one that I have
really struggled with lately.  While there are some women I have met
in this journey that it was the right path for them I feel like more
often than not it’s a lack of support and a lack of resources to
parent.  It is really hard to see expectant moms placing because of a
lack of money.  As for prospective adoptive parents…. That one has
become really hard for me.  I understand wanting a family so bad that
it hurts… I REALLY get that but there seems to be a lot of anger
from adoptive parents and it hurts me to see.  If I could tell
adoptive parents anything it’s that just be you.  Be honest in what
you want in your adoption.  It’s okay to want a closed adoption.
While I think that it will take longer to be matched just being honest
about it will be so much better for all involved.  In general I don’t
think birhtparents are bad people… There are a few here and there
that make me question that but overall I think we are just women
trying to make the best out of a bad situation. If I could tell anyone
in adoption one thing it would be where mercy is given mercy is shown.
It’s an important thing to remember and with that I think this
journey will be easier after.

As for support after placement, I really love getting to know adoptive
parents.  I have a few that I know and adore.  I am always happy to
answer questions and help them with their relationships.  I feel like
there is a lot of fear in adoption on both sides.  When you stop being
afraid and just get to know one another on a real level the
relationship can be something great.  As for support of birthparents
after placement…. It’s mostly birthmom’s, I don’t know if men just
process this differently or just don’t care but I have met very few
and I feel like there aren’t many out there that are “out” about it.
As for birthmom’s I do my best to listen.  Help find real counseling
for them.  Refer them to places that can help.  Remind them from time
to time that adoptive parents are human and mess up from time to time
as well.  They aren’t perfect and that once again where mercy is given
mercy is shown.  I know for me one of the best things I have found is
just having a safe place to write and have others listen.  Having
women to talk to that truly understand what I am going through has
been incredibly therapeutic for me.

3. In your opinion what about adoption needs to change?

Oh man… There is so much about adoption that needs to change.  I
mean just recently I met a young woman who was thinking about placing
and when she changed her mind the agency started harassing her.  They
now are attempting to use contract law as a form of coercion.  The way
it stands in most states when thinking about adoption expectant mom’s
are allowed to receive financial help from Hopeful adoptive couples.
The way the law stands right now should an expectant mom decide to
parent she does not have to repay those expenses.  The reasoning
behind it is that it can be viewed as force if there is a huge
financial burden now heaped on preventing an expectant mom from really
being able to chose.  I think often agencies really encourage expenses
because it really does make young women who are emotionally vulnerable
feel obligated to place.  I think that agencies are the worst thing in
adoption.  As I see it, adoptive families are just trying to build
their families, Expectant parents are just trying to do the best for
their children and agencies are just there to cash a check.  I really
think things need to change in the amount of money being made in the
adoption industry.  I think that the adoption tax credit needs to
disappear if only for the reason that I think agencies only use it to
milk more money from adoptive parents and it is used as a
justification on why expenses are so much.  The whole thing makes me
kind of sick.  I mean we are talking about children here and people
view them as a good to be traded for money and I hate it.

4. What are the stereotypes about being a birthmom you feel are put on
you? How are those stereotypes wrong or right?

Oh man…. I hate this. I was watching Modern Family a while back and
it’s actually one of my favorite shows but I remember the gay couple
was trying a domestic adoption and they met with an expectant mom.
There was a joke about promising to show the baby all 52 states and
that they would be sure to take him to East Dakota… While I chuckled
it really bothered me.  While there are some stories of adoption in
the media the vast majority either focus on the adoptive couple or on
all the wrong parts of birthmom’s.  I feel like we are either
degenerates or teenagers to the media.  There was a special a while
back called “Birthmom’s” that aired on TLC and I FUCKING HATED IT!!!!
It made me so irrationally angry that I wanted to punch things.  They
followed three women who were just like every trashy stereo type you
can think of and I often feel that’s why adoptive parents can be so
weary of having an open adoption. When all they ever see are
degenerates that are just horrid I don’t think I would want an open
adoption either.  With that said they are so far from the women I meet
on a regular basis.  These are women that have the lady balls to want
nothing but the best for their children even if that means a lifetime
of pain, regret and shame for themselves.

5. Biggest piece of advice for prospective adoptive parents? For
expectant mothers looking into adoption? Parents who have already
adopted? Women who have already placed?

That it’s not about any of us.  It’s about this child that we all
love.  Remember that.  Don’t get into this without really knowing
what’s what and please really look into how your agency operates.
There are far more unethical ones than ethical ones.  While they may
seem great on paper there is a good chance that there are some very
shady things going on.  The more I work on things with my therapist
and really go back and stop blacking out things from placement there
are things that really bother me with how things were done.  I know
that when I went to get state insurance the agency worker counseled me
on things to say and not to say so that I would be approved right away
for state insurance.  Things like make sure you don’t mention that you
are planning to place.  They may not approve you… While I get that
it keeps costs down and that I am entitled to state insurance
placement or not, being told to lie about it really bothered me.  I
was horrid at it anyways because they gave me a note explaining that I
had no income and that I was being provided with expenses through
them, when the worker asked me about it not even thinking I just told
her the whole adoption plan.  I still received benefits and there
wasn’t a problem I just wasn’t any good at deceiving a state worker.

For these next questions, I wanted to get an outsiders perspective on
questions for a birthmom. Since this project is primarily about
education I thought this would be a good idea to include questions
such as these. I asked one of my social work professors what would her
questions be for a birthmom.

6. What were your factors in considering adoption?

Honestly… I never wanted this.  My ex kind of bullied me into it.  I
just felt so broken down at that point I just kind of gave up.  I felt
so ashamed that I didn’t want anyone to know and I didn’t feel worthy
of keeping little man.  I just want him to have a good life.  I want
him to have a Dad and I didn’t want him to grow up like I did.  Moving
all the time.  Bouncing from pay check to paycheck.  Knowing when my
mother couldn’t pay our rent.  I remember when my father lived in Palm
Springs I used to write to him as a child.  I want to say I was nine
or ten at the time.  I really liked writing letters as a child and
always thought it was fun to send them off.  Well the first time my
father wrote back he included $2 in the letter.  I didn’t tell my
mother and I used the money on a snow cone while at the beach with
friends.  Later that day my mother was in a car accident and didn’t
know how she would be able to afford her deductible.  I remember
feeling so guilty, like it was my fault for being selfish and not
giving her the $2.  That if I had none of this would have happened.  I
didn’t want little man to feel like that too.  I didn’t want him to
feel guilty for wanting basic things and I didn’t want him to have to
take on adult responsibilities at a young age.  I was horrified that I
would do that to him too.  I know now that I wouldn’t have.  I know
now that I would have done everything I could have to keep him from
knowing if there were ever financial burdens.  In that moment though I
was scared and there wasn’t anyone there to tell me these things.

7. Who was your support? Did you have support from family, friends,
society? If so why or how did that contribute to your decision to
place? Was it a negative or positive influence?

Oh man what a question… I didn’t know about my pregnancy until I was
pretty far along.  I was so freaked out and I felt like such a
failure.  That I didn’t tell anyone really.  There were a few that
knew but really I kept it pretty quiet.  I felt so much shame.  I told
my ex but he was so checked out that I just felt beaten down.  He was
adamant that placement was the only option.  I felt like if I told
anyone that they would just tell me I was a failure and I already felt
like such a failure I think it would have just pushed me over the
edge.  In hind sight though there are a few that I should have told
sooner.  Instead I let my ex talk me into contacting an agency. Once
that happened it was pretty much over.  I didn’t know this then but I
can see it now in how things were handled by the agency that they
really didn’t want us to tell our families.  In the moment I thought
it was so that we could avoid the pain of judgement but looking back I
think more in more it was to cut us off from our support systems.

8. Did you consider other options? Abortion? I will add; what are your
opinions on the abortion vs. adoption debate?

Ummm well I was WAY too far along to even have abortion as an option.
There are laws against that sort of thing.  Also seeing little man’s
face on that ultrasound has forever changed my life.  I felt soo much
love there was no way I could have done anything else.  Keep in mind
though little man was like seven months along at that point.  To me
though abortion and adoption are totally different worlds.  One is a
small cluster of cells that may or may not result in a child being
born.  Abortion is a reproductive choice and adoption is a parenting
choice and there is just no comparing them.  It’s like asking what are
your thoughts on breast implants vs heart surgery.  Yes they are both
surgery but you can’t tell me they are in any way the same thing.
They just aren’t.

9. Did you see your child after birth? What were your feelings? Did
you waiver in your decision making? What were your feelings about the
adoption decision after birth compared to before birth?

Yes, I saw little man after his birth. I didn’t want him out of my
room for one minute.  I love him so much that I wanted to take every
second I could with him.  You know I have some mixed feelings on what
happened next though.  My agency worker really encouraged myself and
the other birthmom’s who lived in agency housing to have the adoptive
mother stay in the room with you while you were in the hospital.
While I love Melissa and I loved our time together I really feel like
it was another thing the agency does to prevent you from changing your
mind.  I love Melissa so much. There was no way I could hurt her by
changing my mind even though I desperately wanted to.  I love little
man so much.  I just want him to have a good life.  I just want things
for him to be okay and in that moment I felt like I wasn’t good
enough.  I also felt like I would be trash if I hurt Chuck and Melissa
because they were never anything but good to me and I love them.

10. A question I feel is really important to address is how you feel
the agency played a role in your placement? Did you feel coerced? Did
you feel like you the option to parent after the agency giving you
maternity housing? What were coercive practices your agency
participated in you did not realize, or maybe you did, until after
placement?

You know at the time I didn’t but looking back there are a lot of
things that I block out because I can’t deal with them.  There were so
many things that the agency did that were just unethical.  The way
they coached us on what to say.  The way they picked my hospital even
though I already had a hospital selected when I first met with them.
They didn’t want me to use the hospital I had selected because they
weren’t adoption friendly. The way they coached us on what to say to
social workers.  The way they told us not to tell our families.  The
way that should we change our mind at any point that we needed to
leave housing immediately.  How I found out later that while I agreed
to have a legally binding open adoption and little man’s parents
agreed to have a legally binding open adoption that it was never
filed.  That I have no paper work from signing my rights over.  I
still don’t understand how I didn’t get copies of that.  In the moment
I was too hurt to step back and really think about it.  Looking back
though it bothers me.  There is a lot of money in adoption.  As long
as there is money there is going to be coercion.

The end of a journey.

“Not I,nor anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach.Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere – on water and land.”

 - Walt Whitman “Leaves of Grass”

Does this journey end? No, probably not. I heard a quote on Nashville that was really powerful “Don’t let your past define you. Let it refine you”. I love that. I know my past has been checkered with questionable decisions and actions. Some of the those decisions were made for me such as being placed for adoption, being raised by a bi-polar abusive mother, how my dad made no effort to protect his kids, my genetic makeup, that my birthmom would have aborted me if she had known about her pregnancy sooner, both my mothers not wanting a relationship with me, how I was educated, ect…you get the idea. There were definitely things I had control over. Such as placing Asher, education after childhood, jobs, relationships, where I live, ect…

I am not referring to the journey of life but of adoption. It has been such an integral part of my since the day I was born. My life was pre-planned and orchestrated before I was ever born. With this journey came pain, loss, what ifs and no idea how to proceed. Do I hate being adopted? Yes and no. I hate the not knowing, the lack of answers, the rejection. With that being said though, I would not be the same person I am today without having been adopted. I have a fire for advocacy for adoption reform. I WANT MY OBC! I have compassion and empathy for people hurting and/or dealing with loss. I have an insight that most my age do not. I am wiser beyond my years. I am motivated to be better than my DNA and amom’s abuse.

I wasn’t even prepared for the things that gave me somewhat of a connection. How much I am told my mannerisms are my birthmothers, how much I am like my maternal grandmother, my birthfather is Canadian, I am Irish and German, my brother and I could be identical twins, my brother and I laugh the same(which I love because I have always hated my rather unusual laugh, thank goodness someone else has suffered the strange looks that I have gotten over the years), all of my birthfathers kids have blue eyes, members of my birthfamily(more so my maternal side)have served in just about every war the US has fought in.

Those things matter but they bring me not much closer to my roots than when I started this journey years ago. What are roots anyway? Is the foundation given to you by the family who has raised you or made you? Is this more about me learning to be okay as me or attempting to fill the unknown void? I yearn for silly things many take for granted. Yet I push everyone away. I don’t trust anyone. The things I want most are simple, taken for granted by many, a given for most people and I know I will never have that. That to me seems to be my biggest hurdle. Learning to live around that void and learn to accept it. Life isn’t fair. Use this journey to create a path all my own. A creater of something better than this, something my own. A story all my own because so far my story has been pre-ordained and written by others, things out of control. Of course, as an adult I had control over my own decisions but I mean the entirety of my life, being adopted was out of my control. Controlled by someone other than me, something that changed my entire life. This was not the life I was meant to live. That is something that I can never ever get back. Now I have to find a way to pick up the pieces of my missing life and piece them together with the life I am leading…somehow this has to all work out to become cohesive. I have felt like I have been living two lives for too long. Time to stop letting the past control my future.

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Rough.

Man, I have been totally slacking on blogging. Things have been kind of crazy for me but mostly in a good way. School has started and I really enjoy all of my classes and all my professors are amazing. I was nervous after orientation and the social work advisor was telling all of us that the first quarter of our two year(six quarter)cohort was the hardest, with the most busy work and the most homework I had a small moment of panic. Uh, this is probably going to be my easiest quarter in college ever at either of the two previous schools I have attended. Maybe it is the smaller class size, more reading instead of busy work, being in my major and enjoying the topics we are talking about or what but these classes are not challenging to me in the least. Sure it is new information and some of it is dense and dry but I am enjoying it all the same. So that is good. I thoroughly love being in school, I like being on a schedule and having something to read at night, even if it is boring and dry. I love reading and I love learning.

Other than school, I am volunteering and going to therapy. Still trying to find a job, have a couple interviews set up this week so I am keeping my fingers crossed something works out soon. Volunteering is going well. I have about three months of training before I can actually volunteer in the position I was given(and wanted but I never told anyone that, I wanted the volunteer coordinator to place me where she thought best and it just so happened it was also the position I wanted, yay!). I have committed to one year there and I probably will re-commit at the end of my year for another year. I stopped going to therapy for about three weeks and just started again last week. I have a lot to work through and I really connect to this therapist so I am thinking my time with her will not be short but I will like to be finished by the time I graduate. I don’t think that will be an issue and putting a time limit on it probably isn’t necessary but I want to have gone over everything, discuss how to handle certain situations and get myself to a place where I am comfortable in my own skin. That last part could take awhile. My anxiety is a big one, I want to learn how to control it as much as possible without medication. I am noticing lately that this could be a short lived thing and I should have medication handy just in case. Meds aren’t bad but I was hoping that I could be equipped with some coping strategies that would halt or at least lessen the severity of the anxiety attacks I have been having.

The worst anxiety attack I have ever had in my entire life happened Friday night. Absolutely the panic stricken hours of my life. Never have I had one to last over a three hour+ time span, take over my entire body and I had no control. I have no idea what set it off. I was out with friends, had a few drinks(was in no way intoxicated). At the bar, I wasn’t feeling right. I was pretty fidgety, which is my way of knowing I am anxious and wasn’t focusing real well. My heart was racing and I had sweaty palms. At about 11pm I went outside thinking I had sweat beads dripping down the back of my neck behind my ears, nope…but it felt so clammy in the bar so I stayed outside awhile. Went back in and tried to have a good time. We left that bar and went a different one. I had one drink that I never finished by about 12:45am. I went outside the bar, again, hot and clammy and talked on the phone with a friend until about 2am, bar was closing. The girls I was with were hungry so we decided to go eat. Got there and there was a huge line so me and one girl got out and waited for a table. The other two joined when we finally got a table but before sitting down all three of them left to go to the bathroom. I browsed through the menu and all of a sudden I lost it. Uncontrollably crying, snot everywhere, legs were shaking, just a complete mess. The girls sit down and I get a text from my roommate(one of the girls there)and she was telling me to “knock it off, I was going to regret this in the morning, you need to calm down…ect”. I kept asking for the keys to the truck so I could at least leave because this was embarrassing and I could not stop. After about 20mins finally my roommate walked me to the truck and yelled at me to not leave the truck. Yea, one of the sketchiest areas in town I was just going to jump out and run around at 3am, geez. I called my best friend and she didn’t even know what to say. She kept telling me she had never heard me cry like this over and over and over. Then my nose started bleeding. I swear…it was awful. I am in someone else’s truck, crying uncontrollably like a lunatic, bleeding all over my jacket, not able to breathing, my entire body shaking…it was absolutely miserable. I had no idea how long I sat in that truck but finally they came to the truck and we went to one of the girls’ house. We all went inside and I was probably in there five mins before I had to go outside again. I sat in the freezing wind for probably 30mins(my roommate swears she looked for me for 45mins, but I was right by her car so I doubt that). I still cannot calm down. So we drive home and the whole way there I cannot sit still, still crying, still shaking and not able to breathe. In all reality, I should have walked to the ER when we were at our friends house. Or my roommate should have driven me. It is what, three days later and I am still so emotionally and physically exhausted I cannot even tell you. I have never been so tired in my life. Like an actual exhausted tired. One where I get up and do the things I need to do but if I sit down to read or watch TV or I am not doing anything I fall asleep. Very weird for an insomniac like me.

So in light of this past weekend, I am going to discuss with my therapist going to the doctor and at least having some kind of medication on hand for when this happens again. I get little panic attacks all the time but I can normally get through them just fine. This not being able to control anything crap is nonsense and has never happened to me before. We had talked about it awhile back and she mentioend Lexapro and I honestly do not want to be on an anti-depressant. I have taken them before for anxiety and insomnia and it makes both increasingly worse and I am not depressed. I would rather have something for an as needed basis because this isn’t something that happens all the time, obviously.

My roommate did not handle this situation well at all. I tried explaining to her in the morning that I truly had no control over what had happened, that it had nothing to do with anyone we were with that night. It just happened and it was embarrassing. She pretty much told me I needed to apologize to the two other girls we were with because I had embarrassed them. Yea, um…are you for real?! I asked to leave the restaurant and you proceeded to argue with me through text while sitting next to me that I needed to knock it off and calm down. The most awkward part was today and I have a class with one of the girls and she glared at me and wouldn’t even acknowledge I was alive in the class. I wonder what my roommate told her as this was a fairly new friendship. Not a loss to me but nonetheless it is strange that I have to spend the next two years of my life with this girl who saw probably one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.

Whatever…I actually feel like I am doing better with everything else in general. So far school is great, I walk the 1.5mile to school and back three times a week and I have been exercising regularly to get in shape for an 8mile run next Spring.

Oh and Asher’s 2nd birthday is on Sunday…I honestly am either numb or truly have no feelings on this subject. All I can say is “How could it have been two years ago?!”

I lost my voice.

When did I lose my voice?

I can’t pinpoint it exactly. Was it when I was born and no choice in being adopted or who I was adopted by? Was it when things were done to me by a child by a family member that my parents were fully aware of and never did anything to stop it? Was it when I was sexually assaulted at 18? 21? Was it when I chose to sell myself because that was all I thought I was worth? Or was it when I realized no one was listening?

I do remember being in my pre-teens and saying things out of character. Maybe an attempt to stand up for myself and they were shot down. In an effort I have now realized, to protect myself. Growing up in a house of chaos you learn to utilize skills to keep yourself unseen, unheard and untouchable. I can be pretty loud at times and since becoming an adult and moving away I notice that I can let myself be who I am and embrace my loud laugh. While growing up being loud would get me into trouble and I had friends who made fun of me for being so loud. I also noticed classy women were not loud women(ok, realize I was a child). So I taught myself to be quiet. Hiding was easy. I spent most of my 12th and 13th years living under my bed. I was terrified to sleep on my bed or where I was visible. No joke. I had a super sweet set up. I tore out the lining of my box spring and put a flashlight, crackers, water bottle, some books and whatever else up there. I put my sleeping bag and pillow on the floor and pulled the boxes under my bed all around me so I was completely enclosed under my bed. It was great. Well maybe not as an adolescent but hey it worked. I have always been really good at remaining invisible in large groups of people. It’s my super secret ability Learning to be untouchable was the hardest one to teach myself. I tend to be very easy to forgive and would let my guard down too often as a kid. I remember the turning point being about 14yrs old. I put up this invisible wall around myself and swore that nobody would ever be allowed in. No matter what was done or said to me my imaginary wall would stop it. That wall has remained up since then.

I think after so many attempts at trying to put up a fight or stand my ground, I gave up. Which has led me to this point with a woman sitting across from me asking me “where is your voice?” I want to tell her “it ran away and is knitting me a scarf in lala land. Let me find out when it will be back.” Ok in all seriousness, I don’t even know if I have one. Maybe I was a loud child and grew up to be a reserved adult? Who knows. I don’t think that is what my therapist was referring to at all. It just got me thinking…