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.


The curse of the adoptee February 23, 2008

Filed under: Adoptee,Adoption,Family,life — Jessie @ 11:38 am
Tags: , , ,

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. 


Heaven and Hell July 22, 2007

Filed under: Adoptee,Adoption,Adoption reunion,Family — Jessie @ 11:19 pm

God, where do I start, where do I begin. 

Sometimes I wonder when life is going to stop being so emotional, perhaps it just isn’t.  Perhaps I am just doomed to be stuck in a whirlwind of feelings that make me feel as if I am going to split into a million pieces at any moment. 

Sometimes I really envy my Meemo’s ability to just seemingly not give a shit about anything.

Me however, I get my emotions from my Dad… and boy did I get a hell of a lot of them. 

My life flips between heaven and hell.  Heaven being my bDads house… I am just going to call him Dad for now on.  When I refer to Dad, its my bdad… my Dad and Mama L.  Or just Mom.  Mama L. is my Dads wife… my biological-step-mother… but hell thats a long name.  So Mama L.  She shall be. 

The two of them, they are the home I have never had.   The loving, doting, understanding parents that I just never got.  The people who are now the holders of my heart. 

The funniest thing?  I never expected to like her, I just figured she would just be like, there.  I figured I would be the enemy… after all, I am the enemy’s daughter!  I would have a hell of a time separating those things… somehow, amazingly, she can. 

She loves me.  How the hell did that happen?  And you know, I love her back.  Love her to death actually!  Its hard for me, to split that kind of love between two people in my life, always has been.  I have been a one person kind of girl.  But nope, kinda hard for me there.  I love both of them… My mom and dad. 

And no one can tell me otherwise. 

I have a family, I have a home.  I can’t tell you for how long I have needed these things.  Well I shouldn’t say needed them, after all, I survived quite fine, for quite a long time without it.  In fact, I never really knew what it felt like to really ‘feel’ like a family.  To really feel accepted, loved, unconditionally, without judgement, without fear.  And by two people none the less. 

My life on the weekends is filled with this sense of acceptance, where the worse thing that can happen is Mama L. reads the last chapter of my new Harry Potter book, and therefor knows how it ends.  When I don’t want to know… knowing that she does know drives me insane!

Where the best thing that can happen is she comes up with a name… for us adoptees, we know how important a pet name can be (Possum??  Stick up for me on this one?)

Mine is Melon. 

Yep Melon.  She saved herself from me being really mad about Harry, by calling me Melon. 

I thought it was because me, Dad and my new grandma pretty much finished off a whole watermelon by ourselves. 

Nope, nothing to do with that… I am her mushy melon.  Thats what she said… you’re my mushy melon.  (Which has nothing to do with me being fat… LOL)  Just cuz I am a mush… and someone amazingly likes that. 

So yeah, she distracted me from Harry for a while with that. 

But anyway… thats my weekend, my weekend of being Melon, cuddling on the couch, and Harry Potter. 

I come home to reality, and well, reality sucks.  It makes it even harder to leave, because I know what I am coming back too. 

Back to a place where I am judged, back to a world where the negative emotions rule.  Where my sister and I have a talk about her…. and her life.  And the hell she is stuck in.

She is stuck in the Hell that I lived back when I lived with my amom.  Only she can’t just pack her things and leave. 

Only she doesn’t have another family to turn to.

My adad, as much as I love him, has moved on.  He has moved on to his other children (biological) with his other wife, and his other life.  He treats my sister like she is an adult. 

Which would be fine, if she were.   However, my sister is mentally a child.  She is mildly mentally retarded.  Smart enough to know she is in Hell, not smart enough to be able to actually do something about it, like get out. 

When my adad dotes on his ‘new’ children, it kills her.  She wants that love, that acceptance.  She wants away from my amom.  She can’t, shes stuck.

I am so torn, I wish there was something I can do, but legally, there is nothing.  My amother made her sign her life away to her.  My sister had to sign paperwork relinquishing her own legal rights to herself… the ones we all gain at the age of 18.  She signed them away, and gave them to my amom. 

Meaning my controlling, semi-crazy, witch of an amother, has complete control of my sisters life.  And my sister is 20 years old. 

Now that I am gone?  The emotional abuse that I suffered for so many years is now being poured onto my sister… the food issues, the emotional issues, the body issues, the self issues, the screaming, all being poured onto her.  I was the scapegoat, and now I am not there anymore. 

My poor sister is getting the brunt of it, and she can’t handle it anymore. 

I told her she needs to get into therapy, I guess she brought it up to my amom, and she got the response that broke my heart, the response that I remember getting oh so many years ago.  When I first knew I was losing my mind. 

“I can’t afford that, what do you need that for, you are fine, if you have a problem, talk to me!”

My heart breaks in two for my sister, and breaks in two for myself.  Breaks in two for me, because there is nothing I can do, but emotionally, I suck at handling her.  I am almost empathic, always have been, which is why I don’t connect.  Their emotions become my emotions.  I come home from a weekend of being somebody’s baby, and I get to be the only string my sister has.  Unfortunately being her only string brings me to a place that I just emotionally can’t handle.  However, I love my sister, and I will be that string, for as long as I possibly and mentally can be. 

God, I wish, I wish for a million years that I was strong enough to handle it.  I wish there was something I could do.  I wish I could slap my amother in the face and scream at her the way I was screamed at for so many years. 

Tell her that she has one more shot, one more child… don’t F it up mother… because shes all you got.  You lost me years ago. 

I don’t think she even knows what she does, by my heart breaks for my sister, and knowing there is nothing I can do. 

Knowing that starting now, I will be counting the days, hours, minutes, until I can go back to my safe haven.   Where I can hide from reality and just suck up the one thing that I have lacked for years and years. 

Wishing to god my sister had one too. 

Wishing to god that I had some kind of idea on what the hell to do. 


Conversation can work wonders. May 13, 2007

Filed under: Family — Jessie @ 10:52 am

I woke up this morning and I felt like evil Satan spawn.  I couldn’t believe that I had actually ditched my mother the day before mothers day.  Yes, we have a lot of issues, yes things have gotten out of control.

But regardless of all that she is my mother, and I do love her. 

I decided that instead of taking a break, maybe we could work this out.  Maybe we both need to work on things and try to change. 

So in the effort of my dramatic flair, I showed up at church (quite amazing, I havn’t set foot in one in years) and got down on one knee with lilacs and tulips stolen from a field and apologized to my mother in front of everyone there.  She was so happy she cried, my grandmother I think was a bit embarrassed but oh well.  She cried and looked at me and said ‘are you kidding? Talk about instant gratification, I was just praying for you.”

So to make a long story short, we talked.  We talked, we respected each other, she respected me.  We both apologized for our wrongdoings.  We also both got to the heart of what makes us so nasty to each other to begin with.  She realized that she had made a lot of mistakes when it comes to me.  She apologized for a lot of them. 

We decided to put everything behind us and start over.  Honestly, I can do that.  I can do it, and hopefully she can too. 

So here’s starting my new relationship with my mom.  I couldn’t be happier. 

So Happy Mothers Day to all 🙂


Happy Mothers Day to you Mom May 12, 2007

Filed under: Adoptee,Adoption,Family — Jessie @ 7:40 pm

I divorced my mom today.  My amother.

Ok, so I didn’t really ‘divorce’ her per say.  I just decided that we needed to take a break from each other.  I sort of feel so sick I could throw up.  I am trying my hardest to forget the days events and pretend like nothing is wrong, but I am having a heck of a time doing that. 

I have never really stood up to my mother, ever.  but she and I have had a toxic relationship probably since I was old enough to talk.  I don’t hate my mother, although sometimes I feel like I do.  But I don’t know how much I really love her either.  I guess I do, otherwise I wouldn’t feel like my world is falling apart before my eyes. 

If I didn’t love her I wouldn’t care that I hurt her feelings. 

However, I did hurt her feelings.  Its the day before mothers day, and I told her I need a break from her.  I told her this in the midst of yet another fight about yet another thing that she has let me down on. 

I have fought with her for years, fought her and fought her and never really stuck up for ME.  I always just compromised myself in the end.  Always put on my fake face and said its ok, I love you anyway.  Its ok that you verbally and mentally abuse me.  Its ok that you make me feel terrible about myself.  Its ok that you don’t follow through on the promises you make.  Its ok that you have no clue what I have been through. 

Well I am done telling her that its ok, I am done pretending that none of it matters. 

I tried to do it the civilized way, by conversation, but that didn’t work.  Nothing ever seems to work, the problem is she doesn’t see me as an adult.  She doesn’t listen to me as an adult.  One of the biggest problems is she doesn’t listen to me at all. 

Even in trying to talk to her through this problem, she just doesn’t listen.  My mother just wouldn’t hear what I had to say. 

Until I said ‘Mom, I am sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore.’  She stopped talking and listened then. 

I told her that I think we both need a break, that we obviously both stress eachother out to the max.  That we both need some time to ourselves to just live our lives.  I told her I loved her.  I got back a bunch of screams, a bunch of tears, and a lament that sounded more like something I would have cried out in high school to my running scared boyfriend. 

She switched between screaming and telling me that I am a selfish brat.  To crying and exclaiming that I have hurt her feelings, and she can’t believe that I am ‘leaving her!’  Yes, my mother was upset because I was ‘leaving’ her.  I tried to explain that I wasn’t leaving anywhere, I was just taking some time.  But again, no words of mine were heard, just more screams, more cries.  And the final note.

“fine, well thats just fine, I don’t need you anyway, have a great fucking life, happy fucking mothers day.”

I think that just about broke my heart, yes mom, Happy Mothers Day.   What a freaking twist of timing that all this had to happen right before Mothers day.  Call me a brat, call me a bi*#h I have been called both enough times today to suit me.  I guess I just couldn’t imagine going over there and celebrating the person that is her, and pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. 

Now I am sitting here alone wondering if I made the right choice.  If I did the right thing.  My Mother has called me already.  Called me with a message that again just switched between screaming and being nasty, and making me feel bad with every trick she has in the book.  I guess it amazed me how much of a child my Mother is acting while I am trying so hard to grow up. 

I feel sick, I feel like curling into a hole and dying.  I feel like calling up my mommy crying exclaiming how sorry I am for being such a failure as a daughter, for hurting her feelings.  I feel like I just stabbed a knife through my own heart.  I can only imagine what she feels like. 

My hope is, that she takes some of this feeling and starts thinking about whats really going on.  And instead of seeing me as the horrible daughter, instead sees some of the things that need to change.  Instead sees that I am in fact an adult, not a child.  That I am my own person, and I don’t have to be someone else just to make her happy.  That I deserve to be respected. 

My mother does not respect me, if for nothing else, I hope this can accomplish that. 

I don’t want her out of my life forever, funny how when everything is fine, I don’t even pay attention to how much I talk to her.  But now that I’v decided to take a break from it all, I miss her more than ever. 

I guess what I miss most is the relationship we never had.  The one where she was my mother, and I was her daughter, and we loved each other unconditionally.  The one where I could talk to her about things, the one where I could count on her.  The one where I could be loved for the person that I am, instead of despised for all the things I do wrong.  The one where I could consider her my friend.

Honestly, none of this is even about being adopted.  Its about the relationship that could have been between a mother and her daughter, but wasn’t. 

Its about me finally standing up and saying, I am mature enough not to have to take this anymore.  I am mature enough to say I have had enough of the abuse. 

I just hope to God that I did the right thing.


My totally awesome Dad May 5, 2007

Filed under: Adoptee,Adoption,Family — Jessie @ 9:36 pm

Today, I don’t hate that I am adopted. 

Really, I don’t.  I really, really, really don’t.  I understand why my Meemo did what she did, and I think for the first time today it was obvious to me.  It wasn’t a selfish decision (not that I ever thought it was.) But instead a selfless one.  And I think for the first time today, well at least since knowing her and actually acknowledging that I am adopted, I appreciated it.   I am who I am today because of it, and I would have never known my Dad if I hadn’t been.   And my Dad is just one of those people you need to know, that is awesome to know. 

Today, my adad busted his butt for me.  He really did, and it isn’t the first time he has done so.  I have gotten myself in a couple sticky situations, and my Dad has never failed me.  Sure at times I don’t like him, sure at times he can be a real jerk.  However, I can be a real big B so I can’t complain.  My Dad has just come through for me in ways that I can’t even describe, and today was one of them. 

Yesterday, my car, my pos 1997 Sunfire with just about 200,000 miles on it, finally decided it had had enough.  On the expressway, on my way to go babysit, the transmission blew.   It was fun, let me tell ya. 

And ya know what??  I didn’t completely melt down about it.  I didn’t freak out, I didn’t get upset, I didn’t feel like my world was coming to an end.  My car was dead, and I was calm.  I got my car taken to an impound lot and I freaked out and couldn’t function because I thought it was the end of the world.  I have come a long, long way. 

I called my Dad, and he just helped me out.  He tried everything he thought would be possible, putting himself elbows up into transmission fluid to see if he could fix it, before he decided that it was dead. 

Then he did the coolest thing of all.  He helped me get a new car, I didn’t even want a new car, I really didn’t.  I just wanted something that would get me through until I was done with school and then figure it out from there.  But ya know what he said?

He said that I deserved a new car.  That I deserved a car that I didn’t have to worry about.  One with a warranty that would last through the millions of miles I drive every day.  One that wasn’t going to break, and need to be in the shop.  One that I could count on.  A NEW car.  He said that I have worked hard my whole life, and not really gotten a lot out of it.  That I have overcome a lot of bad situations, and despite all that, still made it on my own. 

My dad.  My Adad.  My DAD!!!  I am soo happy I could cry, shit I am crying.  My Dad is proud of me.  My Dad has totally put himself on the line for me.  He is helping me, and he is going to help me make this work. 

This is my Dad, my Dad who remarried and had two children who are biologically his own, two children who will probably be good at sports, and a son who loves to play in dirt like he did when he was a kid.  I am not even biologically his.  And yet, he still stepped up to the plate, he still busted his butt for me. 

He still told me he is proud of me, of who I am, and who I have become. 

And that means more to me than the best car money can buy. 


YES!! I can confront my mother! March 13, 2007

Filed under: Adoptee,Adoption,Adoption reunion,Family — Jessie @ 10:51 am

WOW!  What an emotional couple of days for me… for a lot of people I know.  I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off my sholders, I feel as if the world is coming back to a place of peace once again.  Ok maybe not the entire world, just mine! 

My Meemo is amazing, I dare anyone, including her, to try and contradict me on this.  Because she is!  She has helped me through one of the toughest and most vindicating times in my life.  Right now.  I can’t thank her enough, I know this is hard for her too.

I confronted my mother.  I confronted my MOTHER!  Not the one who pushed me out of her womb, but the one who raised me, the one who hasn’t a clue what she has done to me by ignoring important things in my life.  Namely my cousin K. 

I can’t even begin to describe what a huge step this is for me, I can’t even say how I feel about it.  I can say that the pride my Meemo has for me is nothing compared to the pride I feel for myself.  Which is yet another huge step in the right direction.

It is however, a step that has been a long time coming.  Something I have needed to do for a long time, and just never had the strength to do it.  I was too scared, and for good reason.  My mother does not react to these things well. 

It started with the email she sent about Easter.  I posted info here, mainly because I needed support, I needed to speak and I needed to get my feelings off my chest.  I expected sympathy, I did not expect a well written email from my other mother that basically said everything I have ever wanted to say, in a nice enough tone.  I was shocked, stunned really, that she would even have that much insight and that much ability to spit out the words.  I suppose it works because it isn’t ‘her’ mother she has to spit these words at.  All I could think was Jessie, you have to do this, you can do this…. next week or something.  I wasn’t ready.  Then I got thrown into it. 

I called my mothers house to talk to my sister, and got my mom instead.  Talked to her about things, and actually the conversation was going quite well until she brought up Easter… Well this is the essance of that conversation.

Mom “So Easter, should I tell Grandma that you are coming?”



“think about it mom, think about it for one second and I think you will know”

“Oh, because you think K is going to be there?”

“yes, because K will be there”

“oh so, just because K is going to be there, you aren’t going to come to Easter, That’s how its going to be?”

“MOM! I told you, back at Thanksgiving, that I was NOT going to spend another holiday with him!”

“Well, I must have missed that, so you are never coming to another holiday just because K is going to be there, that’s nice”


“well you can call up your Grandmother then, and tell her that you aren’t coming, because she is going to be very disappointed! And I guess that’s it, I guess I will never see you anymore because the only time you ever come around is holidays and now you aren’t coming to those either”

“No mom, did I not just get done telling you that I am taking next semester off, I will have a lot more time to spend with people when I don’t have to go to school.”

“Alright, whatever, I am sure, hope to see you sometime soon, make sure you call your grandmother”

“whatever mom, talk to you later”

“what that’s it?”

“yeah, thats it, bye”

That’s when all hell broke loose.  I was also online with Meemo at the time, told her about it.  She, in one basic sentence, gave me the strength to send her the well written email she had written with my own little additives.  And so started a conversation with my mom that has gone over these past few days.  Conversations where I have gradually grown my own voice, conversations where I have said to her NO mom, I am NOT going to hurt anymore.  NO mom, I am NOT going to allow you to control my decisions.  NO mom, you need to look at this from your point of view as well. 

My mother actually had the courage to ask me why I didn’t stand up to him all these holidays, she basically said, if I were really that uncomfortable, why didn’t I stick up for myself, because I obviously wasn’t having a problem sticking up to her.  This hit me like no other blow yet, it was almost as if she was saying that I should have stuck up for myself to begin with.  That it shouldn’t have happened because I should have been strong and stood up to him.  I hated her for that, I hated her for not even having an inkling of a clue, I hated her for not understanding in the slightest.  I hated her for not taking responsibility for ANYTHING on her part.  I came up with an extremely emotional email, an email that included a lot of feelings and a lot of anger and blame at her.  Yet again, my Meemo came through.  Explained to me that it would send my mother through the roof if I sent it, and together, we came up with something better.  Something that was unemotional and basically sounded like, I am tired of explaining this to you mother, you are being an idiot, if you want to get a clue, go read a book about it, while at the same time validating myself by saying, my behavior is normal, even though it doesn’t make sense to you.  WOW.  wow wow wow.  Her head must be spinning in a million circles now. 

Anyhow, I feel amazing, I actually FEEL I AM AMAZING.  Or fucking amazing as my Meemo put it.  I feel as though I have taken a giant leap into maturing into the adult I have become.  I feel like I can take on the world if I can take on my mother.  I feel like I have actually literally changed the person that I am in just the last few days.  I can’t describe it, but its a wonderful feeling.  Like I can take on the rest of my life now. 

Oh and may I mention, that we finally got our spring today!  65 degree’s and SUNNY!!!  Ahhhhhhhhhhhh relief from winter at last… hurray. 

Alas its supposed to snow this weekend, but I can enjoy my beautiful day 🙂