Monday, September 1, 2014

Adoptive mom revelation...I think?

I have realized that mom is really damaged from her life.  Now starts the process of making sense of this information.  Sure, it should be easy to learn something new and just say, "OK, I'm better now."  Move on, like so many people post about on Facebook.  You know those annoying pics of people you don't know with little clever sayings.  Sayings that sound like a great idea, but as ridiculous as it would be to suggest that I go outside and lay an egg.

This new information about mom now has to be analyzed, made sense of, and I have to change inside...a lot.   Mom will not change, so I have to be the one to make the changes to stop this lifelong battle we've had.

I'm thinking that it was easier for her to allow her husband (my dad) to abuse me, and not their birth child or even her!    It may not have been easy per-se.  But at the end of the day, having this man abuse someone other than herself or her birth child, made it more bearable.  I know, it sounds harsh and brutal to say this, but lets get real, its probably the truth regardless if she realized at the time she was doing this or it was just a natural reaction?

She didn't do this to make me suffer,  because I'm bad, or dirty, or stupid.   When there are a lot of women with babies, and one of them starts to cry,  the babies mother goes to her child.  If another baby is crying, does she go to the other woman's baby?  Not usually, at least not in our culture.  I guess what she did is a natural, automatic response to life?

I have to admit, I do feel stupid at times.  I feel like I'm the one forcing myself within this family, at times.  Forcing to be accepted, to find my place and push everyone to love me and change their way of thinking.  They clearly don't like my way, its painful and difficult to resolve life long challenges we've had, and I tend to be the family member that wants to shake it up and make it right.  In my mind I sit and wonder how much I annoy all of them, and wonder how they all really feel about "ME."    Its always a question in my mind, and I always feel like my opinion does not matter as much as theirs, regarding...everything.   I have a lot of doubts about where I belong in this "Family."

Now I know that mom is living in some sort of fantasy world, she has created, to make her life bearable.  She has repeated history, has become a silent partner in crime with her husband, my dad.  She allowed her husband, just like her mom allowed her dad, to be the abuser.  She stood by, just like her mom did and allowed the man to have the control and be an abuser.  She also drank, like her mother did.  And stayed with the abuser, like her mom did.  Mom tells stories, sorry to say they are "Lies" about her life.  She makes everything rosy and sweet, and this morning I realize that mom has also been living a fantasy,  making her parents into  the fantasy parents she probably wanted, but did not get.   Mom could also have a blog like mine, if she chose a different life path.  Her loss and grief is so huge, to get through the pain would be too difficult.  If she wasn't currently lying about her life, I'd say she's done the work.  But its clear to me now, that it will never be processed and she will live her remaining days on this earth, in this lifetime,  just like she is.  In pieces, torn inside, and never knowing true love, intimacy, or her own mind.

Processing "Both Moms"  is so hard for me, and such a challenge and often I wonder if I'm right or wrong, but all I really know is how I feel.

Birth moms pic, tucked away in the [Junk] drawer....

Its amazing how much stress one small framed picture of my birth mom has caused me.  Maybe its more of a debate, within myself?  The picture in the frame is of the "Old" birth mom, before she changed.  When we first met, this is what she looked like.   I cannot explain how much she's changed since this picture was taken, back in 1984.  Yeah, we all change, I know.   But, she was drastically different, she was married, lived in a nice home, did not work.  Loved to garden, sew, cook and smoke salmon.  Once her husband left her, everything went to pieces.   Her views on life became jaded, and she's yet to recover.   That was around the time we were married, 27 years ago.   Considering we've been in reunion since 1984, that pretty much tells you we've had a dysfunctional, painful and disappointing relationship most of our reunion.   Its been a battle, a fight to try and hold onto the birth mom I  initially met, and liked!

I cut all ties with Nancy in February of 2014.  Nancy is my birth mom, by the way.  We had been talking again, but I have not seen the woman in so many years its mind boggling.  Over the past few years she's refused to meet me anywhere, that really puzzled me.  I chalked it up to the fact that my birth brother and I don't like one another, and she is so involved in his life maybe it was hard to see me and keep it a secret?

Why do I have to be the one that is a secret?  Why can't my birth brother be the secret?  I've done nothing wrong, except protect myself from unnecessary harm due to both of their indiscretions, to put it lightly.

She thinks I have a problem because every time we start talking, I cut it off.  She cannot have a relationship with me without rambling on and on about my birth brother or telling half truths about his life.  Drives me nuts, that she lies.  Without getting into details and telling stories, this is the bottom line.  I told her that I can have a relationship with her only if my brother is out of the mix.  She cannot do it, and so I have chosen to walk away.   Its not that simple, writing this makes me sound shallow, and unable to bend.  As I've blogged about in the past,  craziness happens in our lives when my brother is allowed even an inch.  Craziness happens with Nancy in my life too, but both of them puts me over the edge.

The process of accepting this is brutal.  I took her picture out of that junk drawer so many times.  I mean put it up, took it down over and over again until it found its resting spot for now.   There is shame involved in this, not shame for wanting her in the drawer, but for even having her pic in a frame.  Does she deserve to be displayed amongst the loves of my life?  What does she deserve?  Truth is I don't have the answer.  Maybe what she really deserves I am not giving her?  Or, because of her life choices she has changed what she deserves?  Does it matter how bad she is?  If she were decent and honest, I would probably allow her pic to be placed next to my loved ones.   I would not allow my brothers picture to be anywhere in my house.  That man is turning 40 next month, has threatened one too many times to kill my entire family, so honestly he deserves absolutely nothing on the subject of loyalty.

Today, I do not miss her, I do not want her around, nor do I have the desire to even chat with her.  I always have this silent battle inside about her, because she thinks I have the problem, not her.  That bugs me!   She can't own what she's done, and quite possibly she has buried it so deeply, not even she can see it herself.   I have apologized to her many times, saying that I am greatly sorry that I cannot tolerate her being less than truthful about my brother, and every time things go well for the two of us she muddies the water by bringing up his craziness.  Then, later on she tells people that "Her daughter" is crazy"!!!!  Yeah I'm crazy, sick and tired of her lies, and her deceit, and her betrayal and have come to the conclusion she is not mentally well, for whatever the reason.  She does take a lot of pain meds she really does need, so maybe her mind is clouded and confused a lot?

Why does adoption always feel so yucky inside to me?  Why am I the one that is always battling inside, when its obvious I am the only one doing this,  the others don't give a darn.  They probably don't suffer inside like I do, they were never put in this position to feel as though they have to "Manange" so many people, only the adoptee is left to battle this, and I honestly think we are supposed to do it in silence, suffer in silence, and endure the long and difficult battle of reunion alone.