A moment in a thought

My thoughts, in my life, of adoption and other such things

The death of childhood December 17, 2008

Life has thrown many obstacles at me, as I am sure is the same for many others.  Some people just seem to go through life without too much difficulty, without ever knowing what it feels like to be abused, depressed, suicidal or any of those other fun things that come along.  

I on the other hand, am not one of those people.  Because of that I have been in therapy for what seems like an eternity but is really only six years.  I have a myriad of diagnosis including chronic depression, PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and Borderline Personality Disorder.   However, I don’t really think of myself by those things.  In all reality I am just a person, thats all it is.  A person with things I have to deal with, and have dealt with, tremendously well all considering.  I am a completely different person now than I was six years ago, three years ago, even one year ago.  However, some things just never cease to amaze me.  New things pop up that I hadn’t even thought about.  

One of those was in a therapy session I had yesterday.  My therapist asked me to write a letter to my mother, and start it with Dear Mom, I hate when you…. and list all the things from my childhood that I hated when she did.  So I did.  I started with the pen to the paper and Dear Mom, I hate when you scream at me… and so on from there.  Without too much time passing, I found myself in tears and with a list that was four pages long.  The saddest part was that none of the things were one time only things.  They were ALL things that she had done to me, more than once, and not I hate it when you wouldn’t let me go to so and sos house.  Nothing like that, all things that were regulars in the list of I hate it when yous… 

When I got to the fourth page I stopped.  Simply because I was crying too hard and I didn’t want to go on.  I closed the notebook I had written it in and didn’t think about it again.  Didn’t remember a lot of the things I put in that list because I was writing from the heart and not from my head.  

In Session yesterday my Therapist, J, made me read the letter out loud.  I surprised even myself when I had a hard time doing so.  I don’t know why, I guess because A.  I knew it would hurt her, and B.  I knew it would hurt ME.  I knew that reading that list would transfer what I had written from a secret place locked deep in my heart, to a conscious place in my head.  I didn’t really want to do that.  I needed to do it.  

I did it.  In reading the list of things I myself wasn’t even ready to hear, I made yet another realization.  Well really J made the realization through the tears in her eyes that I didn’t want to put there.  My mother was abusive.  

I was abused.  Not just sexually abused, that I already know about… a little hard to forget, even though my mind had done a good job of it.  But I was abused, by the person who was supposed to love and nurture me and care for me forever and ever.  Not physically, no she didn’t hit me any more than the slaps when I did something wrong.  No she was verbally and emotionally abusive.  

I don’t know why this comes as a surprise to me.  But it does.  It hurts, it brings up things I don’t want to feel.  My mother was abusive.  Not an easy thing to deal with.  

Particularly since the worst part of it is, I love my mother.  I really do.  I don’t know why, I guess that deep part within me that loves her because she is my mother.  I love her because she isn’t ALL bad.  She isn’t a terrible awful person who belongs somewhere in the pits of hell.  Which is hard for me, because I would think that all abusers belong somewhere in the pits of hell.  

My mother does not.  She is a good person <BAH> really, she is.  Well I guess I should say she TRYS to be a good person.  She was the girl scout leader, the mom who always went on field trips, the one every other kid loved!  She made the best cookies, she made the best projects, she was creative, she is all sorts of good things.  

However, she is also abusive.  It wasn’t on purpose, I KNOW that.  All she ever wanted in the world was to be a mother (I know right?  Barf) I just wasn’t the right daughter for her.  Too bad there isn’t a store or something where you can pick the right kid.  Had things been different perhaps it would have worked better, but I was just not the right kid for her. 

I do not allow myself to still be abused, we have come to this relationship that seems to work, where we both pretend that the past never happened and we are just this happy family la te da.  

So how does one go about dealing with something like this?  Dealing with a rationalization that comes in adulthood.  I guess I just keep going about doing what I am doing and hoping the eventually the majority of my demons will settle.  That hopefully I will know how to be someone that is not anywhere NEAR my mother.   I can’t make the past better, I can’t make it different.  I can keep going toward the future but I wonder how to effectively let go of the past, without burying it in a non healthy way, as I have done for so long.

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How does one learn to cook? December 16, 2008

Filed under: Cooking,life — Jessie @ 1:14 am
Tags: , , , , ,

After posting my blog about Gavin Rossdale, I realized just how much I missed blogging.  

I started this blog as a place to get out my feelings about adoption.  Not that those feelings aren’t important anymore, they just aren’t at the forefront of my life anymore.  I have come to terms with things.  

I do however, miss blogging.  So blog again I shall.  Only instead of being my Adoptee blog, it will just be my life blog.  Probably not nearly as exciting, but hey, maybe someone wants to read about my life.  

I realized today a fundamental thing about myself.  Its actually been brewing for quite some time now.  

I have discovered, that against my honest thoughts, I can’t cook.  

I always thought I could, I mean, I make KILLER meatballs, I have a secret ingredient.  I can make a great box of macaroni and cheese, and hamburger helper?  I can make the best you have ever tasted.  Its a little bit depressing to realize that beyond that, I really just have no cooking skills whatsoever.  

I cooked a lot, with my mom, as a kid.  I was in girl scouts, I made lots of things.  And I really do make great meatballs.  With my mother watching over, I always managed to make just about everything that a recipe was put in front of me for.  Served to the family, everyone commented on how great it was.  And I got this false sense of confidence in my cooking abilities.  I really honestly and truly in believed that I was a good cook.  When I moved out of the house at 20, I had a little teeny studio apartment.  Along with a little teeny fridge.  The freezer was sufficient enough for a box of hot pockets and maybe a bag of chicken nuggets.  Other than that, nothing would fit.  

I lived off of boxed food, sandwiches, chicken nuggets and all other easy things that most would probably associate with children.  I made pizza bread with french bread when I felt like it, and perhaps a chicken sandwich on occaision.  However, that was the extent of my actual cooking.  I didn’t have a real oven, and only a hot plate for a stove.  I didn’t cook.  However, I was still deluded that I could.  

I moved in to my current apartment with my Bdad and fam the October before last.  I still didn’t cook much because after five years of making it on sandwiches, mac and cheese, and hamburger helper, I really didn’t expand my horizons much.  Besides, I was always really busy.  

So this October, I lost my job.  That is pretty much a whole blog in and of itself.  But anyway, I found myself with all this time on my hands.  Plus as one of the few bonus’ of losing my job.  I qualified for food stamps.  So I decided to give real cooking a try.  I was excited, I was going to make all sorts of stuff.  

The only thing I really managed to make was the realization that I just really suck at cooking!!  

I attempted a meatloaf, and… well… it was more a… meatbrick.  It actually wasn’t terrible all considering, but it wasn’t what I would call good.  It was one of those things you wouldn’t mind eating if you were starving and that was all you had, definetly not what I would call yummy.  

I attempted a chicken and rice casserole, the chicken came out pretty decent, the rice casserole part… not so much.  It was pretty much like eating dry rice.  And I tried really hard, putting cheese and other yummyness into it.  It just didn’t work out so well for me.  

Today was by far the worst.  I decided to make BLT’s… well okay BL’s because I don’t like tomato.  I cooked the bacon, real bacon, not the heat and eat stuff for the microwave I usually get.  I figured bacon was probably pretty easy.  Nope, aparantly not.  I like my bacon crispy, I thought at one point it was almost done, I’ll put the bread in the toaster… came back a few seconds later to take out the bacon.  My crispy bacon resembled something that looked more like one of those hard dog treats that is supposed to resemble bacon but really doesn’t.  It was like this burnt red color and pretty much broke into a thousand peices when I went to put it on the sandwich.  I burned the bacon, I mean how hard is it to cook bacon!!!!  

I also attempted to make eggs, but we won’t discuss that either.  

So what I want to know, is how people just learn to cook!!  I have been taught to cook, my mom is a really great cook! (one of the few things she is good at)  So why is it that I can make a couple of things really well, and everything else I am just a total cooking idiot?  I read the directions, things just never seem to turn out well for me!  

Is it a matter of practice?  Is it just going to slowly get better, or am I doomed to a life of cooking for idiots cookbooks and hoping my kids don’t mind crunchy bacon (not that I have any, but when I do)

 

Gavin Rossdale December 11, 2008

Filed under: Gavin Rossdale — Jessie @ 12:17 am
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Okay, I know I havn’t written here in… well like forever.  I guess I just havn’t really been in an adoptee state of mind for a while now  I do however, always think little blogs in my head and have a hard time not writing them down sometimes.  

Tonight I have one that was just begging to be written, and what the heck, I have a blog, why not write it.  

I don’t know if any of you have that one person in your life.  That one celebrity or whatever that you just attach to and for lack of a better way of putting it, fall in love with.  No I am not talking about the OMG Brad Pitt is soooo hot kind of love.  The kind that the person speaks to you in a way, and perhaps at a time when life wasn’t so easy, for whatever reason.

That person for me was Gavin Rossdale, the at the time lead singer of Bush.  Of course, it doesn’t help that he is OMG sooooo hot, and I was sooo 14 when I first laid eyes on him.  But seriously, Gavin was my man, he was my teenage obsession that lasted a long, long time.  I knew his words by heart, I knew his voice by heart.  I was absolutely positively in love with him.  I won’t go into all the mushy barfy details, but he was a constant when my life was constantly in turmoil.  His was a face that made regular appearances in my dreams.  His was the voice that got me through the hardest times of my life. 

My mother, being my mother, refused to let me go to a ‘rock concert’ even with a chaperon.  So I was never able to see him live on tour.  Every year he would come, every year he would go, and every chance to actually see him, and every hope of mine, would go with it.  I had all the t-shirts, all the cd’s, all the posters.  My walls were covered in Gavin.  God I was ridiculous.  But his words got me through.  

Years went on, and Bush came apart, and I never really heard much about Gavin after that.  The only time I heard about him was because of his wife, Gwen Stefani (I was devistated when they got married, he was finally, officially, taken).   Then one day, I was listening to the radio and I hear this song… and it sounded just like him, I knew beyond a doubt that it HAD to be him.  Love remains the same, thats what the song was called… isn’t that just a freaking kicker.  After all this time, yes, Love remains the same.  I freaked, all I could think of was OMG I hope he goes on tour again and I know, this time around, I will be able to see him.  I don’t care where he goes, I don’t care how much tickets are, nothing was going to stop me from my chance to FINALLY see him!!!  

In my town, the local hit music station puts on these little concerts, they call them listener lounges.  They put the tickets out there to their club members in the form of a raffle, you use points that you collect from listening.  Needless to say, they somehow managed to snag Gavin.  And I somehow managed to win tickets.  It didn’t even really click in to me what was going on.  I guess nothing that good ever really happens to me.  These little ‘lounges’ as they are called, are very private, only 40 people can get in.  40 people and Gavin.  I couldn’t believe it, it was fast.  I won the tickets on monday and the concert was tonight.  I didn’t have time for it to sink in.  Not to mention, I didn’t know what to expect. 

When I saw him, I couldn’t fathom it.  It was just a little thing, no ‘backstage’ no outfit changes.  Just a chair, a guitar and us.  Gavin walked in with his enturage, and it was just about pitch dark.  No one seemed to notice, I hardly noticed, I was standing in the back of the croud, and I couldn’t fathom that that could possibly be him, just standing there.  Then I walked up, and there was no mistaking, I was standing in front of my hero.  I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t much of anything. I reached out my hand and touched his arm, I think I stuttered, but I said OMG I can’t believe its really you, he smiled and his bodyguard told me they would be doing a meet and greet later, basically like ‘yeah we are working toward that chair over there, don’t draw the crowd’.  I just said Wow, I think I am going to cry, he took my hand, said ‘don’t cry’ and pulled me into a quick hug.  Even as I write this I can’t believe it happened to me.  This kind of thing just DOESNT happen to me.   He sang, he played guitar, all the while I was just in awe that he was THERE… like right there, right in front of my face there.  

Tonight, I met my hero.  My Idol, my icon, my obsession.  Tonight, I got to fulfill a teenage dream that I never thought would be possible.  Because tonight, not only did I see Gavin Rossdale perform.  I met Gavin Rossdale.  I HUGGED Gavin Rossdale… TWICE!  I got my picture taken with Gavin Rossdale, and I got his autograph.   I touched him.  I didn’t just see him from 53rd row seats in a stadium, like I would have had I gone to a concert at 15, I touched him.   I hugged him, he hugged ME!  I heard his voice, not from a distance, but from close enough to reach out and touch his fingers on the guitar.  I heard him sing close enough to see the look in his eyes.  I heard him perform my favorite song close enough so see his eyelashes.  

Tonight, was by far, the very absolutly best night of my life.