I haven’t written in this blog in forever it seems.
It was always my favorite, and made me sad to stop writing in it. However, the reasons to not write are now really, in a way, gone. So perhaps I shall start writing again.
I have been thinking a lot about adoption lately, and how it has effected my life. Maybe perhaps it is just triggered by certain things.
My life has changed astronomically since I last wrote in this blog. My Meemo and I had a falling out, now we speak pretty much entirely by email, and don’t see each other very much. Honestly, yeah I miss spending time with her. But the emotional aspect of being with her, and what it does to me, at times isn’t even worth it. I feel like I have to be a different person, like everything that I am is just annoying or obnoxious or just plain wrong. Perhaps if I weren’t so afraid to be myself, and were just able to do it. It would be different. I suppose I have found my spot for her, understood that we will never have the relationship I wished for. I do, at the very soul of me, understand how she works when it comes to me. It hurts me to know this, because I know how I feel towards my adoptive family. The love that will never really go away, but will never burn strong either. Just because of the situation. I suppose it hurts to know that the woman who made me will never quite love me like her own child. I have adjusted, and gotten to a place where I can handle that.
I didn’t choose to be born, I definetly didn’t choose to be adopted, but its the burden I bear none the less.
As far as the other aspects of my life. I moved into an apartment with my bDad, my bsis, and my Mama L.
I wish I could say that worked out fantastically, but that would be a lie. I suppose I am just bound to never have a nurturer for a mother. Never have another female to really grow close to, to really be nurtured by. I have my therapist, and I suppose thats what God has given to me as my mother nurturer.
My bDad, I call him my Daddy. Probably because he is the only one who doesn’t seem to mind the childisness in me sometimes, is my Godsend. If there is such a thing as fate, and there is one person who is put on this earth to fix things. He is that person for me. Still is that person for me. Which is amazingly and absoultly wonderful. I couldn’t be happier to have him. It isn’t without its imperfections though. There have been confrontations, not between my Dad and I, but others in the family.
I suppose I can understand, in fact, I know I can understand. Here is this family, that has been going along fine for years, then all of a sudden, there is another kid in the mix. Only this kid isn’t a kid, she is an adult. And no one knew. Nope, my Dad never felt it necessary to tell anyone about me. I was a secret that he kept to himself, waiting to hear from me. But no one else in the family knew.
I can imagine that would have came as a shock to me too.
I put myself in their shoes, particularly my Mama L’s as much as I possibly can. Sometimes however, I just want to be in my OWN shoes. I just want people to understand that I am a person to, and because of the stupid adoption word, I got a very short end of the stick here. I am not going to whine and say it isn’t fair, because life isn’t fair. Mine certainly hasn’t been.
The fact of it is, I know I am lucky. I know i’m lucky, because at the end of it all, I got my bDad, even if sometimes it is a fight.
I just wish it didn’t have to be a fight.
My sister said something yesterday, that of course triggered a lot of feelings. We were watching a pregnancy show, and it showed the father cutting the childs umbilical cord. E. asked L. did Daddy cut all our umbilical cords? Yes, he did.
I was thinking to myself… I don’t even know who cut mine. I don’t even know what I looked like when I was born, when I came out. Was I blue? Did I scream right away?
My Daddy wasn’t even there. The man I care about more than anything in the world, and he wasn’t there.
My Daddy didn’t see me until I was 24 years old. He wasn’t there when I was born. Neither were my aparents.
Its just so backwards to me, and I wish it didn’t have to be. I wish I weren’t the secret, I seem to be cursed not to belong ANYWHERE.