Dirty, disheveled girl...but obedient.

My sister and I were discussing the fact that my mom has somewhat lost it, which is why I told her about mom's comment about "Now your part of a family Cathy"

Her response was something like - I dont think she meant that, your just sensitive.

I'm sensitive?  Well, yeah.  Especially when my mom says insensitive stuff to me!

And why wouldnt I be sensitive?  And how would SHE feel if mom said to her, "Now your part of a family" at age 48?

Well, it would NEVER happen, because my sister was not adopted, I was.  And my sister doesnt feel how I feel, because she was not adopted.  AND my sister was not abused by my dad, because she was not adopted.  and, per my sister, she had a "Perfect" childhood.  Hmmm...well...we must have lived in different homes!

Im not mad at her, she just doesnt get it .  And its not her fault she was not adopted, just as its not my fault that I was!

I guess she thinks I should continue forgiving and somehow eliminate all of the things that mom says? Im sick of trying to be "Thick Skinned" and constantly processing what this woman says.    Its funny how she was confused when I told her that "SHE" had her mom, but it was not in the cards for me.  She already knows that I have been micro managing my mom since the time I was around 5.  I have been forgiving her and trying to win her affection and love most of my life.  But having said this, its taken its toll on our relationship.  Do we even have one?  Not really.  But I know my place, the #2 daughter, the obedient girl, the dirty, and disheveled one.

 I sat in mis-matched clothes.  Too big, and doughty looking, sometimes hand me downs.   Looking back I now know why I always made my own clothes once I learned to sew.  But I never quite felt put together.  I was punished for not "Liking" the clothes and shoes other people gave my parents.  One day my dad came home from work, saw these shoes next to the back door which I guess meant they were not being used.  He freaked out, hit me on the back of the leg with the bottom of these shoes which had a hiking type of bottom.  Left a huge bruise, somewhat bloody mark.  I guess this is why I have such a bitter feeling when it comes to how I look.  Its a life long struggle to somehow learn that I deserve to have nice things.  I am not mismatched, I am not defective.  They were the ones that had the problem, not being able to accept someone else's baby.

More trials and tribulations...life is but a test

Two weekends ago my sister and I went to visit mom to celebrate my sisters birthday.  

I am having Thanksgiving at my house this year, first time ever really.  So I thought while I'm at moms house I will grab all of my china from her garage.  My name is written on a lot of stuff out there.  So I just grabbed all that I could see.  Last Christmas said cute husband bought me a 1930's china cabinet we picked out together.  I'm too cheap, I wouldnt have bought it if he wasnt with me! ha!  So I've waited 27 years to display my beautiful china!  

I got home, it was around 11pm, I stayed up and unpacked all of it.  Unwrapped all of my grandmothers dishes from World War II.  My mom's mom I mean.   Along with my dads mothers china and some special items like cut glass perfume bottles and many other things dad must have brought back from the war.  

The next day came, mom called to see if I had a chance to unpack the stuff.  I told her oh yes, I stayed up until around 1am to unpack everything.  She seemed surprised and said "Oh" --  I told her that I realized while unpacking that I now have about 4 womens china in my cabinet.  That I told Steve my husband that it was absolutely amazing, he agreed.  Wait for it, here it comes...oh yes she did say it......

"Oh see now your part of a family Cathy"  

I respond, Uh........

"Oh I really wanted you"

Silence on my part....

I was at a loss for words....

My mom elaborated, went on about how lucky I was to get the china and said that possibly my niece, my SISTERS daughter may want the china but dad had put my name on the box.  I remember mom telling me years ago that I would get her mothers china...

I respond, Uh huh, well mom  I will share the china with my niece,  she can have it for awhile and we can all use it for special occasions.  I went on to tell her that I was planning on using the china for Thanksgiving.   

Incidentally I ordered another 8 dinner plates off ebay, won the bid so now we do have enough plates for everyone come Thanksgiving.  

Being adopted is so strange at times.  Mom saying that "NOW" I am part of the family left me feeling odd inside.  I was painting furniture when she said this, and now forever I will look at that piece of furniture and remember her words.  Funny how a person can be as old as 48 and still feel empty inside at times when someone such as your own mom comes up with possibly trivial words (to her) that can do so much hurt and damage inside.  

So I clicked on Netflix this morning, I have a little Mac in the kitchen so I can listen to movies or music while I cook.  What is up to play, "Lilo and Stitch" -- a cartoon movie.  Wow, was this planned by someone up there?  You know this movie incorporates adoption.  Stitch feels lost, screams out he is lost,  and Lilo tells him  "Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten."    This part of the movie really is emotional for me.  So sweet and the face this little creature makes, I can identify with.

I feel like that little creature at times, like a lost little puppy.  Then I look around, see what I have created with my own family and I am shaken back into reality.  I am the mom now, I have control over my own life.  I just ordered 8 more Noritake Ridgewood dinner plates for Thanksgiving, and I am going to have such a nice Thanksgiving table this year. Probably spray some mini pumpkins silver to decorate the table.  Make cute little old fashioned flower arrangements.  I can always pick myself back up and move forward, focusing on the exciting things coming up in life.    Mom will enjoy seeing her mothers china this year!  

I dont like to wallow in sorrow for myself or focus too much on the cutting words that could possibly mean nothing to my mom really.  Possibly just a mess up on her part, loss of words, not being able to accurately tell me how she feels about me?  I like to think this is what makes her say such heartbreaking and cutting words.  

This is the furniture I painted and then stenciled:

The "Card" for my mom

  I dont recall the last time I purchased a card for mom.  I usually print a pic, and make my own card that requires just a "Love Cathy" signature on the inside.  No long, complicated verses of trust, love, devotion, adoration, cherished memories, etc.  

I didnt make her a card this year for her birthday, husband was very sick and we spent time in the ER the day before we got together to celebrate her birthday.  On the way I stopped at the local party store, I walked to the card section that said "For her" and I looked around to make sure nobody was near.  I usually end up with a lump in my throat and have a few tears escape reading the "For her" cards.  I picked one up,  didnt see too much mumbo jumbo on the front, grabbed the envelope.  Started to walk away, and stopped.  I went to the other side and saw this card I liked,  a sweet painted pic of a mother and daughter, opened it up, and realized this was the card.  I put it back.  Then grabbed it again, put it back, and grabbed again.

I forced myself to walk to the check out.  Theres no escaping now, someone is standing in line behind me, I thought.  I grabbed some blow pops candy and kept my eyes searching for things to read to distract me until it was my turn to pay.

I bought the card.  I walked out, drove to my sisters house, and I signed my name.  That was seriously painful, so painful I was sweating.  Yeah, it was hot outside, but I wasnt really moving for about 20 minutes while driving with the air conditioning on!  ha!  I debated about giving her the card, but I didnt have an alternative to give her.

The card was given, I could feel my heart pounding.  I took a pic of her reading the card, her facial expression was unusual.  She got teary eyed.  Now that wasnt so hard I thought to myself, or was it?

It was hard, and I'm still lamenting over this today.  The card is racing through my mind, the picture of the mother and daughter still stuck in my mind.

I texted my daughter who is up in college,  something was mentioned about my mom, and then I mentioned to her about the card I gave her.  My daughter knows I dont give mom store bought cards and why.  She said something like "Oh really" with surprise in her voice after I told her I gave mom a sappy mother/daughter card.  I texted her a pic of the card, and told her this is the card I'd give my mom.  Well, I did give this to my mom.  But this is how I want to feel, and this is how I should feel when I give her this sort of card.  I told my daughter this is how I feel for HER, so I know I CAN feel this way.  

I feel cheated, and like I'm back in first grade and Sister Marceline Marie has caught me talking when I should be quiet . I feel guilt , like I've cheated my own mother as well.  This is just a card but it has such a larger meaning and there is so much attached to this little card.  The picture on the cover is worth a thousand words.  Nobody has to explain the meaning, it's understood, its a universal feeling .

I've dreamed about you every day, my mother

The two movies that really opened up a can of worms for me....August Rush and Antwone Fisher.    I was flipping through the channels last night and I came upon Antwone Fisher, near the end.  When he meets his birth mom for the first time was when I think the inside of me was shaken so deeply, my world as I once knew it never the same. Throughout the movie he has dreams that he is sitting at a large table with extended family with an amazing spread of food, something that looks like Thanksgiving.  I swear that symbol in the movie just about took my breath away.  More than anything else in the movie, that image just crushed me.   That deep desire you have as an adopted child to meet your (real) family and have that moment.  I did not talk about it the fantasy, but it was inside of me since I was a little kid.  It makes my insides hurt watching that part of the movie, I physically hurt.  I've never had that happen in my life and I have wanted and wished for it my entire life.  When he does meet his extended family, I dont think that I could breathe seeing this scene in the movie.

August Rush, "The music is all around you, all you have to do is listen."  -- Looking up to the sky August Rush says this.  Something clicked inside me when I saw this movie and I cried hysterically, so hard I came close to throwing up.  The music is a symbol for the connection the birth family has with one another.  Its a sixth sense that my adoptive family has with each other, one I'm not part of.  Its an innate sense we are born with, to seek those who are like ourselves.  To find the missing link, to find out the basis of my quirks.  Its the reason why I have to know things, understand everything, to get the details of things other people may not give a damn about.  

For me it was silently picking up magazines at the Lucky's supermarket as a kid.  I was sure my mother was a model, on the cover of one of the magazines.  I have a clear memory of doing this for years.  Searching for her in crowds, looking at everyone I saw, everywhere I went.  I never told anyone, except for maybe my best friend Maria.  I dont think she understood.  I was probably around 8 or 9 years old.  I searched for her starting at a young age, probably around 5 or 6.  Probably this is the reason why now, as an adult, I scan everyone's face, I match people to one another, try to decide if random people are related.

This is the reason why I chose to pick this blog title, Fantasy mom has died.  Because honestly, my mother only exists in my mind.  Both adoptive and birth mom is a fantasy for some adopted people, like me.  

My oldest son just made a wise crack today, said something about my "So called Mother" -- dont remember why this came up, but I said yeah, she is my so called mother, but in reality I dont have one.  Silence.   Its make believe, like my life up until the time the fantasy was cracked open wide.  And I can thank those two movies August Rush and Antwone Fisher for helping me achieve this goal in my life.  

There is some mystic, soulful connection the adoptee has with her birth family, it may not get her what she wants or needs.  But it does exist and it is real.   Even though my own birth mom is what she is...gone to the dark side and a horrible liar.   If she didnt make the wrong life choices, our future may have been drastically different.    

What I dreamt about, every day, my mother, is only a fantasy.  I did dream about you, a blonde  model on the cover of a magazine.  Someone who would treat me special, take me clothes shopping and really adore me. Teach me to cook, do special art projects I loved to do so much, and look into my eyes with the love and bond only a mother can have. 

I hope that adoptive moms out there understand the secrets and fantasies that linger in the minds of adoptees.  For years I was disconnected to the world because of my disconnection at birth.  I missed out on "Experiencing" life as I should have.  I was in some adoption fog, wanting something that I could not have and that made me angry.  Anger is just a symptom. 

A GIRL NEEDS HER MOTHER?

Days are going by, life is being lived.  I am happy, but without a mother.

I talk about loss of mother, not having a mother, and the desire to have one.  But why is it so important for a girl to have her mom:?  How does one walk through life without this special person?

I often wonder what it would be like to have that trust with your own mother.  To be able to speak with her and know she understands you.     Just once Id like to know how it feels for a mother to truly adore her daughter.  I just realized after typing this I have depersonalized this, using words such as "Your" "Her" --not mine, or my, or me.

I call my mom and we talk about things.  We go out to lunch, shopping, usually with my sister.  But I'm the 3rd wheel, and I am with my sisters mother, not mine.  We hug and I feel the disconnect.  It can never be repaired.   There is too much damage, too much hurt and loss involved.  As I have said before, I know my place.  I play the part, and I behave like a daughter.  Inside of my mind and heart, I feel the disconnection every time were together, I struggle to feel that click, that feeling of deep love and affection.  It never happens.

Today I feel the deep hurt of this situation.  This is how adoption has failed me personally.  Adoption has allowed me to lose 2 mothers.  The first I was taken from, given to another who was incapable of bonding with someone elses baby.  By the time the first one came back into my life, she too had no bond with me.  One cannot fake or force love and bonding with a child.  Regardless of who's child it is.  I dont exactly know when it happens, or how it happens.  That extreme love you feel for a child.  That feeling that you'd give your own life for,  walk into a burning house for, walk through hell for.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I should get over it.  Yup, I know.  Life continues to happen, the clock is ticking away,  years go by.  Nothing changes except for how I view life, my loss, my grief and how I will carry these feelings around with me daily.   I hate feeling this way.  I sometimes disgust myself for not being able to change how I feel.   I want to hug mom and feel that amazing feeling mothers and daughters have.  I want to feel special and adored by my mom.  I have worked so hard for so many years to achieve this, to feel that special feeling inside I know exists for so many gals out in the world.   I want to go to Hallmark and pick out an amazing Mothers Day card.  I stand there and read these amazing card, with tears dripping down my face as I try to hold it all inside to avoid a scene.  I leave the store without a card.  None of these amazing cards are true.  My mom has not been my best friend, someone I can trust and depend on.  A woman that protected me, adored me, and a woman I am proud of, and hold up high on a pedestal.  I go home, disappointed.  Find a picture, print it out and make my own card that allows me to say just "Happy Mothers Day" and sign my name.  Not even the blank cards with the special pictures of mothers and daughters is suitable.

Wow, I've never admitted this to anyone except my husband.  I've called him after trying to pick out a card hysterically crying, he thinking someone has died.  I'm ashamed of this.  And its amazing how painful this is for me every Mothers Day and even her birthday.    Why cant I make her love me the way she loves my  sister ?  What it is about me that is not lovable.  Do I look strange, am I not smart enough, or clever enough, or do I have the wrong opinions and ideals?

I guess inside of me, when I really get down to the bottom of things, I still feel like that little kid that nobody wants and has hand me down  clothes, a dirty face and disheveled hair.  The girl that is disposable and just not lovable.   I look in the mirror and see a 48 year old woman, but that little girl is still inside, hiding.   I hate this about myself.

ADOPTION, THE 4 LETTER WORD.

I've not blogged in awhile.  I've turned 48, have my 26th wedding anniversary  coming up next week. Have one child left at home. My life is wonderful with the exception of one little well kept daily secret.  Is it a secret, really?  Well, no, but it's not talked about or acknowledged. It's hushed by me, kept at bay.  A secret as I walk through my days, one kept from myself usually and most people have no idea.  Does it affect me daily? No.  But its unearthed a lot. Simple things happen, things possibly someone that's not adopted wouldn't understand.

My dad is slowly dying . My sister is slowly understanding what I xperienced during my childhood , watching my dad regress back to his old self during this awful process.  I find myself un cruelly explaining , yes, this is what I experienced with dad growing up while you were gone .   It's pure hell. My sister is horrified.  Im upset, because it makes me feel sick watching my dad regress into this person I dont like.  My mom is still somewhat in denial, and my sister acknowledges and tells mom that she IS part of the problem!  ha!  I was floored when she told mom to stop it, and that when Cathy calls you dad can wait 2 minutes to get his food or his eye drops, and a lot of other things that still have my mouth propped open wide with shock.  She finally gets it!

So my birth mom sent me an e-card for my birthday in June. All she had to say was a bunch of nonsense, after I politely asked her to ask the so called "brother" to STOP contacting MY children.  Wow she's an ass.   What would have happened if I was kept, wonder how she'd treat me now?  The same way?  Probably!

She sent me a text containing a photo of my brother , I didn't respond and then I got another text from her saying she sent it to me by mistake .  Uh, yeah right!   I wanted to respond and say, wow he looks 10 years my senior, not 10 years my junior! ha!  I said nothing.

 I honestly believe the only reason she has wanted me around is because she is the only person/family my so called brother has .   Let me re-phrase what I just said, she wants me around so my so called brother can access my kids!  Use us all, manipulate us, for whatever the reason.   Yeah it's sad . I'm sorry for this.  I wish it were different . But it's not. News flash, this so called brother of mine and so called uncle to my kids has spent the  majority of our reunion causing us major drama and agony. He's more like our enemy.  I've blogged about him a lot. I always have hope he will change.

I sent her email . I guess it wasn't very nice but it had to be said . Maybe I'll post it ?

At the same time this is happening my own mom scams me again. I trusted her and got what I deserved , I got burned. I guess this time I thought she had changed.   Guess I was wrong.  Hard lesson.  And I didnt react the same way I would have reacted a couple of years ago.  I was hurt, somewhat heartbroken about this.  I recovered much faster than I would have before.  I cannot trust her.  I never could trust her, really.  I just have to make sure I'm a trustworthy mother.  Yeah, I know,  I have 3 kids, and one of my kids is always twisting things around, so I know it can be hard.  But you know, I'm 48 years old now, not 22 or 24.  Why she continues to play games with me at my age, I will never understand.  I dont know why she does this to me?  Wish I understood.

ADOPTION, the consuming life sucker

Adoption has sucked up so much of my life.  When you talk to the general public they react to adoption like its no big deal, real simple, something that happens in life.  They are severely disillusioned about the reality of it all.  If I decided to speak up and tell them about my experience, I would look like the crazy one when done talking.   Angelina Jolie came up because of her recent brave move to have a double mastectomy.  In talking about her, adoption comes up.  I want to blast her out of the water, and tell the others what I think about her stealing babies.  I choose my words wisely, I say something very reserved and safe.   I know the general public doesnt understand the reality of adoption!

Some actually think that being in reunion is a great thing, that by finding this family that relinquished us is a good thing, so wonderful.  How lucky I am to have a 2nd family.  They are in complete darkness as to how disabling this journey has been for me and I'd guess for so many others.  I agree it was great to know the genetics and family tree.  Very fascinating.   But cant I just have the facts, the pictures and data without all of the other nonsense for the past 30 years?  It would have been nice to be spared the years of mental torture and deep sadness and continued disappointments and repeated abandonment.  

My birth mom is a fraud, a con artist, a cheat, a liar, cannot tell the truth to save her own life.  She has chosen the dark side, so I call it when I want to make it all seem funny.  She is Darth Vader, I have joked for years to make it all seem bearable.  My birth brother is a cuckoo bird but a dangerous one.  In writing this today I realize how crazy it all really is!  

So that is the package deal.  This is the hand I was dealt, the precious gift I was given with reunion.  The slap in the face, the punch in the gut, the embarrassment, the shock .  How does a 20 year old girl deal with this?  Apparently its ended up taking me all these years to actually process and escape it all, until the age of 48.   To be able to say this beautiful morning, that I am OK.  That I do not have to accept these people as my family.  My family is my husband and my children.  I choose to be happy, I choose to have only positive and happy people in my life, regardless of who they are.  

What a crazy, emotional and drama filled ride I've taken.  So many issues to resolve, to be able to be "ME"  --I could have just buried it all, swept it under the carpet, but I would not be this version of "ME" by doing so.  I'd be a pissed off "ME" or a miserable "ME" or worse, a divorced "ME" if I could not figure it out.  Yes, this is how adoption can be disabling and the destroyer of a lot of things.  

 Adoption has altered my life experiences a lot.   By being open and honest about it, by going to therapy I have survived adoption.   I dont speak about this a lot any longer even with my husband, because we already both know how I feel and the reality of it all.  We kind of have all the answers, everything has been discussed.  If something comes up about it, we both just nod at each other.   We  know what the other is thinking.  

But how about those unfortunate souls that cant for whatever the reason break through all of this?  Years of abuse, cruelty and dysfunction are hard to process.  Both my birth family and adoptive family are not "Fixed" -- I'm the one that is fixed.  Its been a huge undertaking, a project to sort out all of the issues, there are so many.  I sat last night and read through my blogs for the first time.  WOW, I cant believe how much blogging has helped me!  Writing down my feelings and posting them really does work.  Its OK if nobody says a word to me about what I think and feel.  The point is, what I blog about is real and its how I feel.   I dont want to argue.  

I've written in the past, does it all really matter anyhow?  Yes it matters to me, and my husband as well.  Because all of this hogwash, for lack of better term, really happened.  It happened to me, for most of my life.  But without looking at it straight in the face, by tacking it, the best and only way I knew how, has saved ME.  I am OK, and I like ME.  I am the happiest I have ever been in my life.  Truly happy.  I enjoy the small stuff and I can "usually" be around my family without as much upset.  

  I want to be better , I want to listen to others more clearly, I want to be less cautious and careful about life.  Because of my experiences with adoption and family, I tend to be more cautious with people, I dont listen as well as I should.  Its hard to explain, but I think it could be because I'm so afraid of saying the wrong thing, I get caught up in being careful about what I may say, so I have a hard time listening.   I dont have anxiety, or depression, so I guess its some sort of disconnect I have.  I guess years of being silenced and being afraid to speak the truth and my own opinion has taken its toll on my social skills.   Not to mention the fact that I was given the family gift of being psychic or whatever you want to call it.  Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but its true.  Long family line of clairvoyant folks.  My great great grandfather was a MD and psychic all in one back in the old country of Lebanon.  See, this is the interesting stuff I was happy to know.  I also gave this gift to my two sons.   Another issue I have to tackle in life.  I dont have as many friends because of this family gift, I sometimes think its a burden of knowing things I dont want to know.  I guess this really is the main reason why I struggle when meeting people and why I have a difficult time listening.  Im too busy getting signs and signals other ways.  hahaha!   I know it all sounds unbelievable, but it is unfortunately true.  And why I say my birth mom has gone to the dark side, its an inside joke, she too is clairvoyant/psychic, I got it from her.  But she does not use it to her benefit and for the positive, which is why I call her Darth Vader.   And by not being good, she has lost the abilities to a point. 

I will end this here, and hope that I can continue to be a better person, mother, daughter, sister and friend.  And, someday I hope to find a school to sharpen my skills and use them in a positive way!  

The family dance I'm not part of.

I started a blog this morning saying that I was feeling peaceful regarding my adoption issues.  Spent time with some family today, came home and erased my blog (draft)!

I do have more peace, but its something else that I have found out or possibly figured out?  I emotionally react to family get togethers.  I end up arriving home, needing to be debriefed, as I did tonight.  I'm trying to take the emotions out of this.  Pretending I'm just a family friend visiting.    Taking a step back, an outsider looking in.   I noticed something tonight, I may have seen it before, but I somehow translated it differently.

My parents and sister (their birth child) all speak the same language.  I feel like I'm a foreigner, speaking another language, however we all speak English.  They speak and communicate a different way.  Almost like they know what each other is going to say.  I never noticed it before like I did tonight.

It doesn't matter what the situation, but its like an animal responding to her babies.  Its natural to them, comes naturally, no effort or strain to communicate.  Its like a 6th sense they have between them.

I dont have this in common with them.  Im positive it goes back as far as my 5th year of living, so I know its something that happened early on with my parents and I.   Possibly a disconnect when they first adopted me?  I am positive they don't know it exists and would probably deny it and say I'm crazy!

For whatever the reason, I saw this dance the three of them did tonight, a different feeling in the air between them.  I could feel it deep within.  I came home, a bit traumatized, a bit bent out of shape.  I'm trying to focus on the fact that my adoptive parents and sister are clueless about how I feel, and focus on the fact they dont see or feel what I feel.  I want to understand this intellectually, not take this to heart.  I have not done anything wrong.  There is nothing wrong with me.

Having said that, I feel fairly bad tonight.  Feel annoyed, upset, and a bit disappointed that I cant be part  of this family I have called "Mine" for the past 47 years.  I go through the motions, I call them mine, but in reality, they are not mine.  I feel good for figuring this out, but the emotional Cathy feels yucky inside.  I have to work through this, and find a way to be at peace.  I hope in time I will not react with hurt feelings when I witness their family dance.