Adopted kids have bad blood....

So, my sister texts me and asks if I wanted to "catch up."   We met late afternoon, had a glass of wine and a little bite of food.  We talked about what's currently happening in our lives.  She shared about the recent trip she took with her son and his wife who is pregnant.  I discussed our grandchildren and our plans for upcoming travel. 

I found myself feeling teary eyed as I confided in my sister that I had often wished that I could pick up the phone, and call mom.  I often pick up the phone to call mom,  and then I remember, that she has passed away.   I am somewhat falling apart as I tell my sister how I feel, now tears are running down my face.  

My sister, the woman who rarely shares anything of importance or "real" about her own life, her feelings, and her family, tells me, as I brush the tears from my eyes,  and as I am trying  to keep my composure, that mom would not be able to help you with your problems.  She stated that mom could never solve the problems between you and dad, what makes you think she could ever help you.     

It was like time had stood still as these words came out of my sisters mouth.  Again I told my sister  about often wanting to hear my mother's voice on the telephone, maybe she did not understand what I said, I thought?  Her facial expressions quickly changed, her tone of voice was telling  me how annoyed and angry she was truly  feeling, as though she was thinking,  "How dare you want my mother." As though I have no rights to call her my mother is what she could have been thinking?       Bam!   I hit the wall!   I was jolted back into reality again.   Just like that...the tears stopped, I woke up,  and quickly remembered who I was talking to!  

This woman sitting next to me,  I call my sister,  who "Pretends" that abuse was not served up  on a silver platter in our household, apparently it was only on my menu, is not a happy person!!  She wants to permanently sweep any evidence of abuse, both physical and emotional right into the large pile of dirt she has accumulated for the past 60 years.  My  God,  she's pretty much buried the truth of my life, the reality of our parents lives, six feet deep,  into its own grave!  

Just like that....just like that....ta-da....it's all gone!  Our parents have both passed away, and I guess shes lied about the reality of our parents her entire life, that she truthfully believes the lies she told herself and her own family and probably everyone else shes ever talked to over the years.   Those lies have become reality, for my sister and her children.  As time goes on, her grandchildren and great grandchildren will be fed these same lies I can only assume.  

When I said  that I wish I could talk to mom, have a conversation with her,  my sister feels threatened.  She quickly claims our mother as her own, and declares that our mother could not "Help me"  with any of "My problems" , as she could not help the "FANTASY" abuse that took place at the hands of both of my parents.   She did not say that, but what she did say was that our mother could not have helped me with the issues between dad and I.  See the difference, in her mind, I was the problem, and I am still the problem.  It was MY  problem with my dad, and it's  an unsolved problem between mom and I.  See how my sister has magically changed the reality of OUR family.  Oh, thats right, its not my family...ITS HERS!  Her mother was a saint, a person so kind and perfect, that God only knows shes been canonized a Saint.  Saint Mary, the woman who took part in the physical and emotional abuse of her adopted child.  Thats pretty neat, isn't it?  Such a kind thing to do, very saint like isn't it?  The child her husband did not want to adopt.  The husband  (and his mother) that felt adopting someone else's child, would not be "Their Blood" therefore I suppose this  meant  to all of them that the adopted child could be a monster, a thief, not trustworthy?   I really dont know what it meant to all of them , but that is what my own mother told me when I was a child, that my blood was an issue for my dad.  The words that came out of her mouth, the meaning was for me to figure out at age 9.  Gosh, I dont think it was a compliment, if dad did not want to adopt someone else's child that was not his blood, could only mean something negative?  Right?   The added bonus of abuse, being terrorized I actually call it, mixed with my bad blood, did not seem to be a winning combination for me?  Who would I go to and ask about this bad blood?      One could only come to the conclusion that adopted kids are bad, possibly hatched from an egg.  I was an ugly, dirty, bad girl...which is what I thought I was as a kid.  I dont think of myself  as bad, ugly, or dirty now, but the reality is, our family was 100% different than my sister pretends it was.  

So, my sister had to rear her ugliness at our "Catch up" get together.  That is not a surprise, not to me or my husband.  She always dishes out some sort of thinly veiled, backward jab with a smile on her face,  just barely showing just a little bit of her teeth.  A passive aggressive statement to somehow completely dismiss me as the daughter of her  mother, claiming our mother as her own.  

I have decided that I no longer need to catch up with my sister...I have already caught up.  I realize that adoption really  is a four letter word, a life sentence, even when ones adopted parents have gone up to heaven.  Leaving the fragmented remains of two women, one daughter  who feels she has all the rights to "Her"  parents and family, and the other woman, who has been left behind as some discarded piece of trash that is not even worthy of being able to long for her own mothers voice in a simple telephone conversation, stripped of the title of daughter in my sisters little, shallow cruel mind.   

Lost but not found

When I was found, I was almost 20 years old.    I blindly walked into reunion, expecting rainbows, ice cream cones, hugs and kisses.  I expected them all to love me, adore me, to want to know my entire life, play by play.  I was convinced they would want my precious keepsakes, like baby teeth I left out for the tooth fairy.  My blonde curls my mom cut and preserved in the family bible.  I thought reunion was going to be like "going home."  They would all understand me, think like me, and would teach me how to cook all the special secret family recipes I missed all those years. 

Meeting the families, I quickly realized something was just not quite right.    Why was everyone staring at me with confusion?  One grandma looked horrified and the other was scanning through my baby pictures to see if there was a resemblance.  That is what it looked like to me.  Then my one grandma asks for a nitro glycerin.  OK, I thought to myself, something is definitely not right, and now that grandma is popping a pill while looking at my baby pictures, its a confirmation!  

She starts to cry, something to the effect of, oh my baby, while looking at my baby pictures.   That is what I remember, I could be wrong, but it was for sure a distressed situation.  Looking back, I can now see the unspoken debate that was going on between all the adults.  My birth mom was somewhat amused, and everyone else seemed frantic, and the chaos of everyones emotions was very apparant to me.   My birth mom walked me to my car and I asked her, what is going on?  She gave me some ridiculous story that left me even more confused.   That was a long drive home, alone, with my thoughts.  For 20 years I had waited for this moment, my heart felt heavy, and I knew I wasn't getting ice cream, or cooking lessons,  the hugs and kisses didn't seem too promising.

I didnt know the truth behind my adoption, but I figured it was not going to be the truth I was told by my parents.    I heard a couple different stories, your birth  parents loved you so much but couldnt care for you.  My dad told the story of how I was picked out in the store, he'd  point to the imaginary wall and say, "This baby, no this baby" like they were shopping for a new toaster.   

I was pretty shocked when my birth mom sent me photos of herself and family,  in the mail.  I was expecting her to be a blonde, I had no idea she was part Lebanese.  She now likes to say I knew, but I did not know. I had a paper with non identifying information that really equaled nothing.

I did not receive anything from my birth dad in the mail, but I later spoke to him and we met alone.  I cannot deny the fact that I was so nervous, I was just a kid. 

The truth as I now see it, is a variation of different stories I have heard from different family members throughout the years.  My birth mom became pregnant with me.  She was dating (now confirmed) birth dad.  At some point in time, she wrote a letter to another boy she liked.  Saying something like, she didnt think his parents would allow him to marry her, so shes going to have now confirmed birth dad marry her.  But in this letter she tells this other boy, she cant wait for "Their" bundle of joy.   Probably the most disturbing story I have heard in all these years is the one my birth mom told me after we met.  She tells me her best friend came over,  she sat in boiling hot baths and used a coca cola douche, let your imagination decide what they were trying to do.

So at one point early in reunion, I went out to dinner with my birth dad, his mom and the family.  I was asked what blood type I was, at this point I really was not sure what was going on.  My birth mom has not been the most trusted source, in all these years, but she was very crafty and cunning throughout this whole ordeal.   She was smart, did not tell me the story, instead let me suffer and it took years for me to really understand completely what was going on. 

It wasn't until 2016 when my daughter somewhat forced me into doing Ancestry DNA.   She ordered the test and had it shipped to me.  Weeks went by, and I stared at that test, and finally after weeks of my daughter calling and asking me if I spit in that darn thing, I had the nerve to actually do it.  I sealed the box and dropped it off at the post office.  Then I started wondering to myself, what if my birth dad is not oneof the two men that I was told about ?  What if he's someone else, what then?  Weeks went by  and I was so anxious waiting for the results.  My daughter had already done the Ancestry DNA test and had her results.  I was driving to the grocery store and it hit me,  I can figure out the answer via her DNA results.  I went home and searched through her DNA results.  TA-DAA!    There it was, the answer to the question I have wondered about for 35 years.  

I decided to wait until my own DNA results to come in to tell anyone, even though I knew the man I had met was 100% my dad. 

Let me tell you, getting my DNA results was a  liberating moment for me.  Not knowing who fathered you for 52 years is a big deal.   I beg to differ with all those people who think I did it for revenge or some other stupid reason.  I did it for myself, I wanted to know my heritage and  I think every person should know this basic information, its their birth given right. 

OK, off my soap box!  But seriously, if it were not for modern science and DNA testing linking me to DNA matches who have extensive family trees, I would still not know the answer today. 

Adoption and exclusion

I'd like to say I was not adopted, that I was born to my mom and dad. It really would be wonderful, so much easier and less heartbreaking for me.    Time ticks away, the days pass by, I wake up, go to bed and another year has passed and nothing has changed.  It has been said for many years, oh there is no difference if your adopted,  we feel the same about you as the child [we gave birth to].  I sometimes can keep up the charade and pretend there is no difference.  Until there is a difference and those differences are practically shoved down my throat by those telling me there is no difference!

How can I continue to pretend there is no difference ?   My only sister, who's only daughter excludes my daughter from her wedding activities, they have grown up together.  They have spent every important moment together over the past 27 years, I video taped her birth, .  The exclusion is so overwhelming to me, I cannot breathe.  I am questioning the relationships within my family,  and I finally spoke up and told my sister it is dreadfully wrong and mean what her daughter has done.  Nothing will ever be the same, and unfortunately that is the truth.  I told my mom how I felt, she has no opinion, she doesnt want to take sides.  There are no sides!  She seems sad, but not sad enough to have a voice and speak up!    My niece has made comments over the years, probably without my sisters knowledge but nonetheless, it happened.  "Who is your mom anyhow" when discussing who looks like whom within our family . Does not take a brain surgeon to realize my children cannot look like my parents or their relatives, however my niece and nephew do look like them. DUH!   Its just a fact of life.  No fault of mine, or my children, yet I cant help but think this has been discussed within their family which is why she has said these things to me over the years and excluded my daughter.   Now she is getting married, and I did believe things were OK , the kids are all grown and I really thought my niece was different!!!

I realized I was wrong, my beliefs about how the others in my family feel for me and my family are brutally wrong.  Its a harsh and ugly reality, the most ugly feeling I have felt.  I planned my nieces engagement party last Thanksgiving, spent weeks hand painting signs and making custom napkin rings with their photo, along with a custom engagement photo book.  I was so excited, the first kid to get married in our family.

Turns out it is not exactly my family.  Its their family, and that is exactly how we all feel.  We debated about attending the wedding shower, but we went because as my daughter said, we do whats right.  Walking into the wedding shower I quickly realized most these women did not know my sister even had a sister.  I was not introduced, and went to the hostess and introduced myself.  She said, and I quote, "Oh my God, I didnt know {my sister} had a sister."  She went on to say that she did not see a photo of me anywhere,  I took the time to have many pictures printed for my sister to frame and place around the wedding shower.  The hostess was correct, not a single picture of me, anywhere.

BAM!  Slug in the gut, slap in the face, I am falling off a cliff, down down down down I go, spiraling out of control.  I hold it together long enough to make it through the shower.  However I know the maid of honor, the hostess' daughter.  I picked that girl up the next morning after many high school parties.  When my daughter and I arrived at the shower, rang the doorbell, another birdesmaid we know answered the door.  She pretended not to know us, did not recognize us!  The rude bridesmaids and maid of honor could not bring themselves to speak to us, I know we must seem like some other species, not human. That is how we felt.  My kids know many of these bridesmaids as they all went to the same schools throughout their lives. 

The difference is huge, so big that it has divided our families.  My sister has told me that it does not matter what I wear to the wedding when I discussed wanting to blend with her and mom.  Said I can wear a cocktail dress if I want to, I'm not part of the family so it doesnt matter.   I have realized throughout all of this, I am just a guest.  I cannot tell you how badly this has broken me, my heart, my soul, and to be honest it has blown me away so badly I dont even know how much damage this has done yet!   And I am still trying to sort out how I could have been so wrong, how I could have believed that my sister and her family loved me and considered me their family.

All I know is that if adoption did not exist, I would not be blogging and going to therapy.  They go about their day, as though nothing is wrong, and they really have no desire to apologize or make things right, if they even know there is a problem?????.  My daughter and I did receive a long text from my niece, she sounded like she was writing a letter to one of her clients, trying to win an account.  As I have said many times, your actions speak louder than your words.

The lost bond of adoption

As time goes by and my birthday candles keep increasing, I realize there is one thing I cannot escape.   There is no anger or resentment, only a bit of sadness left as I realize there is nothing I can do to change "what is."  

Its a life sentence I have been given, a lesson to learn, again and again,  and at times I feel I have mastered the whole mess!   But some days, like today,  it seems too large of a cross to bear,  and I feel the strength I've built up, to escape the anger...weakening.  I feel weak today.   Something happens, a look in my moms eyes , a touch, a gesture,  a small sentence spoken that makes my heart skip a beat.  Time stands still,  its like an out of body experience,  everything is moving in slow motion, and I want to  take a picture, and show them "this right here" is what I am missing.  I don't get that same look, I don't get the same touch or gesture, or the deep love in that small sentence.    So many people overlook, don't appreciate, or even recognize that "Belonging" is such a gift.  The bond created when a mother gives birth, gets the privilege of keeping her baby is overwhelmingly different.   Different than that bond  of an adopted child.  There really is a language they speak to one another, when the bond is not broken.  

Nobody can tell me differently, if I could capture the moment, I would.  I could show you, prove to the world I have been cheated.  I deserve to allow myself to grieve, but I also deserve to never feel like this again.  I don't want this feeling another day, another minute or even second of my life.  But I also cannot deny the existence of what I see.  I know that touch, I know that gesture, and the secret language that is spoken between a mother and her children.  I experience that with my own children.  

In time I will learn to accept what I cannot change. 

Grown babies are not the same...

My birth mom had been texting me, nothing really earth shattering, just common things like she's working a lot, its hot outside, can't wait for the weather to change.  I was telling about my dad dying.  We were not talking about my (brother) but she did bring him up a bit, and the way she talked about him you'd think he was fine.  In the past she spoke about my (brothers) girlfriend, as though the situation was,  in my mind, normal.

Being the searcher that I am, and the information at everyone's fingertips via internet, I looked for myself.  If people do not make their social media "Private" it is open for the world to see. What I saw of my (brother) I did not like,  I don't think I am being cruel, just brutally honest.     I have to be honest, with myself about "What Is."  I went my entire life before getting married in fantasy land, even years after getting married.  Pretending that what was happening was not happening.  It still goes on to a point now, within my family.  But I cannot pretend that a person is wonderful when in reality they are not.  I searched and found that my (brothers) girlfriend is my youngest sons age.

Anyhow, back on topic.  My birth mom and I do not agree.  She feels other men are pigs  for dating super young women.  However she feels her son dating inappropriately  young women is perfectly fine.  We will never agree.

I started blogging years ago after dealing with my birth moms betrayal and years of her ignoring me, and a lot of wounds dealing with adoption and just life.   I really thought she'd want to know me, get another chance with me by being part of my children's lives, but in reality that was not the case.  She searched for me, paid someone to find me, and once she did, it was like she disappeared so to speak.  I have to be honest and say she did change, the woman I met in 1984 is not the woman in year 2015.   I really don't know her, she changed back around 1993, a lot of years lost.   I'd like things to be different, but they can't be changed, and unfortunately, she has no intention on changing.   She has chosen my (brother) and has decided to dig her heels in the sand and ignore me, my family, my children and I am guessing my own grandchildren when the time comes.

So this accident, of texting another woman named (Cathy) with a "k" was when I realized this recent texting was just so she had something to gossip about.  Anything and everything I had to say she was turning around like a teenager and gossiping about it.   When I texted her back and told her that I realized she accidentally texted me, her response was ridiculous, and its embarrasing reading her text.  She told her best friend (Kathy) that I had told her about my dad dying, and that I had some nerve telling her this when I have a blog about "Her."   Her text messages got ridiculous, after realizing she had made a mistake and whoops, texted me!   Here's our dialogue:

ME:  I'm guessing that was for the other "Cathy"

HER:  What?  Don't know...I got phone back now, Linda was using it.  She's in fight with her mom, she's controlling her life, $$ etc...They fight like cats & dogs...guess its the heat?

HER:  I'm getting on freeway, can't wait to get home sweating like a pig!

ME:: I do have a blog-its not about you, its about me and my experience & life.  If everyone was honest and faced what has been done and what has happened, there wouldn't be a big surprise I write this blog.  Its what has saved me dealing with everything.

ME:  You and I have had a strained relationship and you know why.  I am not the bad guy in all this, not one person is to blame.

ME:  I was around when your mom died and after - it shouldn't be so hard listening to my experience now - Im guessing you talk to non related people about life.

ME:  I do too - I also question why we are talking - its unfortunate that (my brothers) life has changed ours because I have not had a firm solid relationship with anyone - I understand how you feel for me is different.  Its expected.  But I also remember the old you - how you used to be, even the old (brother) which always gives me hope that maybe it can be fixed, be how it used to be.

ME:  IF that is wrong, I am wrong.

ME:  I don't want anything from you but probably what Ive always wanted which never happened, without going into a long explanation.  You know.  The things you never got from YOUR mom.

ME: Im a double loser, I've lost out on 2 moms, that is my cross to carry

ME:  And no I don't really have strong ties to anyone except Steve, and our 3 kids and my sister.  I have accepted that.  I am loyal to my parents and sister-no they are not perfect, nobody is, but I have more history with them growing up than I do you and (brother)

ME:: I would have liked it to be different - but its not and probably cannot be.  I'd love to have you come rushing to me with open arms, saying you were wrong and that you love me.  Yep that is what Id like, not very realistic but that is the truth

ME:  The anger over time is disappointment and realization I will never have a mom.  That is why I blog.  Its about me.  not you per-se - just as I am not that baby you lost .  I am not mad, just greatly disappointed.  I had a lot of dreams and hope.

ME:  Anyhow you don't have to keep talking to me, I get it.

HER:  I don't have a problem with you voicing your opinions, feelings & thoughts.  Your entitled.  Its really hot today & Im working so I can't really say much right now.  My client yesterday was having similar issues with her mom & daughter.  They all write about their feelings, thats how this was brought up.  Its more common than u think.  will TTYL

Anyhow, the weather seemed to be more important than anything.  Forget about how I feel.  We had a little conversation, and we discussed her brother that went missing in action, so I accidentally found pics of her other brother and their son who is now in college.  She had not seen pics of him in probably 14 years, so I texted her pics of him now.  She never did respond again,  the last text was August 29, 2015.

So the bottom line is,  I  endured one death after another.  Her dads death, then her moms death, then her brothers death, birth dads mom.    I went to all of their funerals.  Not a single one had a picture of me in the pictures that were posted at the funeral, just my brother!   My uncle  was homeless and living in a shelter, a prior heroine addict when he died.  I bought the food for the funeral, which is not the important thing, but the fact that I was involved was the important fact.

Now she is bitching that I have told her about the misery surrounding my dad dying, and she has the audacity to mimic me, yet talk nice to me in text?  Seriously?  Her mom had said to me when alive,  in a nasty voice and with a bitter look on her face, that "She did not owe me nothin" - this somehow escaped from her mouth, although it shouldn't have!  This was when I stopped to say hello to her on my way home from somewhere, before she died.  I never asked anyone in my birth family for money, for material items....just love and attention.   I sat with my birth mom after her mom had died, in the hospital, for probably 8 hours.  It was not fun, they had to leave the ventilator in her mouth, so it was a very heartbreaking experience for me, and I had never seen someone die before.

I wish I could understand where she is coming from.  I have made it very clear how I feel.  My brother is bipolar, has permanent brain damage from drug use, has severe OCD, panic disorder, and lives his life on the edge and is an addict.  He dates a girl old enough to be his daughter, who incidentally looks like a pole dancer, and has naked pics of herself on the internet for the world to see.  I am dreadfully embarrassed to admit this man is related to me.  As my oldest  son has said, my (brother) is a pervert, none of my kids can believe he dates little girls, I'm included in this!   My birth mom does not even know my kids, I don't think she even knows me.  She has lied about me, written letter to a (now x friend ) of mine, words she wrote I don't know that I can ever undo.  She has never apologized, said she is sorry, that she is wrong, and probably worse of all she has never said I love you, that I can recall.

I feel I deserve more than this, and I am lovable, and I am trustworthy.  Having said this, I cannot change her and my (brothers) life choices, and again, this is even a good example of how the "Adoptee" looks like the crazy one.  In their little cuckoo circle and altered reality they live in, I am painted as the crazy daughter who lies, that tells stories, and I would bet my own life that this woman I call my birth mom has lied to her friend "Kathy" about what has happened, and anyone and everyone who will listen to her.  I can guarantee I am painted as the crazy daughter, as she wrote my X Friend,  made me appear to be the mentally ill person and gave my (brother) my life.  He is the one that is supposedly living a normal life, with a wife and kids!!!!!  Hahahaha!  Even though he's never been married and has no children.

THIS IS HOW ADOPTION HAS ROYALLY MESSED WITH MY LIFE.  Non-adoptee's don't deal with this sort of thing, and probably the most shocking thing is SHE KEPT him and not me, and even after all these years, even after I have honestly lived a very genuinely good life, she paints me as the CRAZY GIRL!  The dirty, disheveled, tossed away girl, left on the side of the road, or in the shopping cart, that nobody wanted.

There it is, another angle of adoption that not everyone out there understands.  No resolution.

Don't tell me I'm too emotional

I have to pull up my skirt, I have to stop this craziness.   My mom needs me to help her right now, and I have to step up and move into her house and be there for her, until my dad dies.

Can I do this?  Can I ?  Can I help her without feeling like I want to go running through the streets pulling my hair out?

I texted my sister, she is on a trip with her daughter.  As though this trip is so important, she tells me she cannot talk to me about (mom) she is "Trying to have fun."   Oh, wow, sorry.

Remind you, I have rheumatoid arthritis, I have zero pain relief and I somehow find the strength to spend countless days at moms.   She, on the other hand feels that when she is on a trip, a trip that has very little meaning , that she is not to be bothered by things like our mom not making sense, and firing my dads caretaker. (dad is at home in hospice)

This is where my feelings of being that dirty, unwanted kid come in.  My feelings, my opinion and concern for our parents is not of worth to her.   She gets to decide what happens to [her] parents.  Shut up Cathy, we don't want to hear your ideas, your worries, your concerns.  That is what she is saying when she tells me she cannot talk about this [now] because she is trying to have fun!  When she shuts me up and says that what I have experienced is not real, it did not happen!  This is why I have resorted to video taping things that happen at our parents house.

Sorry, but this is pure insanity in my opinion.  Your trying to have fun?  Give me a #&$(% break.

Yeah, I know this could happen in any family.  But this is not any family.

The question still remains, do I continue to push my way into this?  Do I help my mom & dad?  Or should I back off and allow my sister, their birth child to make all the decisions?  It seems I am looked at as being too emotional.  Even though my mom cannot remember what was discussed just 5 minutes ago, I guess I am over reacting. She is living alone, with my dad who is dying.  She has fired now her 2nd caretaker for my dad, who is blind, cannot do anything for himself, and mom is a train wreck.  She can barely take care of herself, and her health is not good.  She is not making wise choices, and telling me she does not have the money for a caretaker.  She does have the money!  Got so mean she basically hung up on me, and let me tell you her sister called me worried as well.  Saying that she was not making sense.

I think my sister wants to be in the drivers seat.  She wants to make the decisions, my opinion and feelings do not matter.   On the outside, everyone thinks that adoption is no big deal.  I am so lucky to have been adopted by this wonderful family.  Nobody really wanted you, so your lucky.  It amazes me at age 50, that I am still having this conversation.  That I feel like I'm still second guessing my position.  Are these really my parents?  Should I be able to step in and make decisions on my own regarding their well being?  The answer my friends, is NO.  My opinion, my feelings mean nothing.  I really am that unwanted, unloved kid found in the shopping cart, or found on the side of the road, left because I am too stupid, or not cute enough, or not clever enough to have any sense, not enough worth to make a reliable decision.

If adoption did not make a difference, if being the adopted daughter was not an issue,  why is this happening?  My sister would not be talking to me this way, and arguing about what our mother is doing.  Refusing to admit that our mother is not mentally well and needing a dementia screening.

I have not decided how to handle this, but maybe I will have to just push these awful feelings aside and do the right thing, and live with my parents and take care of them.  I really need to do this, to prove to myself that I can, that I CAN love unconditionally.    I should be able to do this, I could do it for a stranger, I can do it for my parents.  Regardless if they love me and adore me or not.

I will always long for my mom

As a little girl I always tried to force mom to be close to me, I'd sit in her lap, I remember laying on the couch with her.  Remember the game kids play, you put the bottom of your feet on the other persons feet, and pretend your riding a bike?  I always laid with her, even though she was in a bad state at the time.  Looking back I didn't get what I wanted.   I don't think I thought that way at the time, I did not realize that I wasn't getting what I wanted or that it was not possible.  But as years went by and I grew up, I just know I did not trust women, or want to be close to women like the closeness shared by a mother and child.

I took care of my mom, behind closed doors.  On the other side of the door she was a nurse, taking care of others.  But when I had her, I was the nurse.  That is how it felt to me.  It was my job to make sure she didn't somehow die, and I was there to comfort her when she was crying. I'm not really blaming her for this, she was unhappy and did not have the tools to make it better for herself.  She still doesn't have the tools.   To be honest, she did cook, and clean.  She did not take care of herself, though.  She did not care what she really looked like, as far as her hair and clothing.  She has never worn a stitch of make up.  She used to care, I have the pictures to prove it, before she was married and shortly after.  Cute clothes and make up were part of her daily routine.

I'm not sure what this does to a kid, having a mother that does not show affection.  My old friends tell me I was quiet as a kid, never said much, but I was kind and always shared my lunch if someone did not have one.  I did not get mad and mean until my teenage years.   Mom did make my lunch, she was so worried about what others would think, at age 83 she is still worried about what others think!   But I know how I feel now, about the years of my life spent longing for what I've never received...it has tried to take over my life and heart.  

Its strange, because I have a relationship with my mom, now.  But its not what it should be, we can never fix what is broken.  I realize this now, but in all honesty it does not make it any easier.  I still long to have what I cannot have.  I know I'm repeating myself.  But I want to give myself permission to grieve what I cannot have in this lifetime.  And watching my sister so attached to mom makes it somehow harder.  I see that she really cares for mom differently than I do.  She received what I did not receive from this woman we call our mom.  With hesitation I say I love you.  Knowing that I do not have the same love for her as I do my husband or children.  I do not love her as I should.  I feel guilt about this, and I feel shame.  I cannot make myself love her as I should.  I have tried again and again.  I want to, so badly.   This years Mother's Day the pain in my heart was not as bad, so I think I may have achieved some relief, forgiven myself a little for not feeling how I should for mom.

But I know I will keep trying and trying, in hopes that something will ignite inside of me, and I will all of a sudden feel that click in my head and feel differently.  It does not come, that click.  I feel disappointed, I feel sad, and I lick my wounds and time passes by.

But I thought telling mom about my blog, and how I felt about a lot of what she has done over the past 50 years would make that click come.  It did not.  Instead it made her look more tired and old.  In turn I felt guilty when I saw her on Mothers Day, after spending one week away from her house.  I'm usually at her house every week, helping her with dad.  She is slowing down, and seems worn out.   Its sad that she has refused to attend counseling with me, I suggested it many times.   I'm realizing she will never go, because that would mean allowing someone to know the truth of her life, the abuse and neglect, the awful life she has lived with a man she does not like.   She talks to people she does not know and tells them lies about how her life is, paints a picture of the perfect family, perfect everything.  It almost makes me sick, her deception.   The truth cannot be exposed, and keeping that truth hidden is more important to mom than having a relationship with me, or my children, in this lifetime.

Another Mothers Day

I figured a way to get through it, even though I have my children and my amazing husband.  Not that my boys are great at sentiment, but I got a great dinner cooked for me.  I feel blogging helped me get to the place I'm at now .

We celebrated with my mom on Saturday.  My sister and I took her to lunch.  It was nice, it was hard but I managed to make it through.   

I had meant to pick out a card at Target while I was there earlier in the week, I even procrastinated printing a picture out for the frame I bought.   My husband dropped me off at my sisters house, and on the way I picked up a card at Hallmark.  WOW, swoosh, kicked in the gut as I read the Mothers Day cards from a daughter.  Panic time, I started sweating, looking around to see if anyone was watching me furiously picking up cards, reading the first sentence, and putting it back.   My husband was waiting in the car, as I read faster and faster.  Mad at myself for somehow conveniently forgetting to pick one out at Target.   I had to convince myself that it was OK to pick out a card that was not completely true.  That it didn't matter, not really.  So I picked a card, that talked about how important a mothers love is.  I should have made my own card, picked a picture from years ago and cut, pasted and decorated it, allowing me to just say, "Happy Mothers Day" instead.  

I signed the card, "Love Cathy" and felt unsure.  Love.  Love is a big word.  Again talked myself into feeling OK inside, thinking it doesn't matter what I really feel.  Its just a card.  

The day went by, no major issues.  We did some shopping.  My sister bought some pants.  I bought some shoes.  We had our waiter take a picture of the three of us.  I cannot deny the fact that I was glad the day was over, when it was over.   The picture is good, in my opinion.  I tried to scoot down to look smaller.  My sister is a clone of my mom.  Even their body type, their skin, hair, etc.  Not everything is the same.  I did not feel super exposed, like I was the 3rd wheel this time.  I think its about how I feel inside, not because of what they have said or done.  Simple things maybe others would not even notice to begin with.  I told mom about my blog, and about some of the things I feel inside which are a result of years of trials.  I think telling her has taken its toll on her, and although I realize she does know these things already, they have not been taken out of the dust pan and looked at.  So in a way, its like she doesn't know what "IS."  Its important that I tell her how I feel, and to talk about the reasons why our relationship has been strained for my entire life.  Again, she does know these truths, but she has hidden them from herself, and pretended all is OK for so long, its difficult to grasp whats real when you've lied for so long.  

I will always long for my mom.  A woman that brushes my hair, adores me and makes me feel as though I am the most important thing in her life.  How I have always wanted her to choose me, instead of others.  Quite an irony, that I was chosen, and still at age 50 yearn to be chosen.  I wish there was a way to go back in time,  for her to take back all of the things that have happened, and to change the current status of our relationship.   The behaviors I've dealt with continue today, so its an on going struggle.  

At some point I'll have to forget it

I think its coming, that place you get to when nothing matters any longer.   At some point you have to desensitize yourself from the entire situation, and look at things as though you are an outsider, looking in.  Just a friend from up the street.

Mom sat across the kitchen table from me last week, stating she doesn't know exactly what she did to me over the years and does not have an excuse for what she does remember.

For example:  When my oldest son was little, my parents watched him because he is an epileptic.    On his 2nd birthday my dad came up to me and told me that my sisters kids come first, and we'd have to find someone else to watch our son.   My sister had another baby and my mom was very involved with both of  her kids.  She was driving out to help my sister regularly, even though my sister was not working like my husband and I.  So one day we stopped taking our son to  my parents house, yet we never heard a word from mom.  She did not tell me she wanted to stop watching Austen, but my dad told me it was over and done with.  We never did hear a word from mom, ever.  One would think she'd pick up the phone and call me and ask, "Where is Austen" - something from mom.  Because she never called, or asked where he was and why we stopped bringing him, we were certain  she was part of this decision.

OK, so I asked mom last week, why she did this?  And explained that years of this type of behavior have contributed to how and why myself, my husband and children don't feel as warm and fuzzy about her and my dad as my sister and her kids feel!  My mom spent most of her time with my sister and her kids.  And it was so bad during the time my kids were in grammar school that one time I went to the grocery store in my town and there was my mom and dad getting out of the car with my sister and her family!  Mom lives quite a distance away!  My sister lived close to me.  I never heard a word from mom or dad, didn't even know they were in town.  They  came out to attend my nieces dance recital.  Wow, that left me feeling like I had been kicked in the stomach, there I went...falling down, down, down, spiraling out of contrl as I drove home trying to make sense of what just happened.  We were supposedly such a close family.  

My moms response to why she decided that my sisters kids come first was,  a blank stare.  No response.  She does not have a reason for why she has behaved this way for most of my life.  She can't explain why she went along with my dad, chose this man over me to the point of alienating me.   I explained to her because she chose him, and abandoned me for years, I have different feelings for her.   She did not have a response.  I asked her why she has done this to me for all of my life, she said "I don't know."

What do I do with this response?  She cannot explain why she has done this to me my entire life.  She states that she always loved me, and felt the same about me as she did my sister.  I actually told mom, "I want to believe you - but I don't."  How could she leave me and my son like that?  And 26 years later pretend it never happened?  My son with epilepsy is the 2nd born out of all the kids between my sister and I.  It wasn't until my sister had her 2nd child I was told that her kids come first.

There are so many unspoken, and unresolved issues between mom and I,  its probably reasonable to say they will never get resolved.  I told mom we could go to counseling, she did not respond.

Years ago we lost our lease because our landlord sold the town home we had planned on buying, we couldn't find a place to live, it was summer time and our oldest was in middle school, and the other kids were in grammar school.  The infamous summer when my own mom told me to go live in a homeless shelter with my kids, after asking if we could stay with her until finding another rental.  This was talked about last week too, mom denying she ever said that to me.  For the first time I called her out on this.  All 5 of us ended up staying in our motorhome at my brother in laws house in the middle of summer, the heat was triple digits.   It was hell, and our son was having seizures and crying all the time, none of us slept much that summer.  My mom had the nerve to drive out to my brother in laws house, look over our living situation and conditions, and never offered to let us stay with her even after that.  I asked her last week how she could do such a thing to me, and that I would NEVER do this to my child, regardless of their age.  My mom ladies and gentlemen, did not have an answer or reason.

Its almost like my mom has no credibility,  like she is literally checked out, and has been checked out of life since I can remember.    She has been brainwashed, is what I told her, by my dad.  A man she has not liked and  wanted to divorce since I was a kid.  She somewhat agreed, but cannot for the life of her change her life.  Her life is the same, nothing has changed, and sadly I think she will remain in this situation in this lifetime.  

My life, The Truman Show....

I wasn't adopted by a corporation, but after mom told me last week that it was my dads sperm that were the problem that kept them from having another baby, I've been in deep thought.

So much has been said in this past week, as my dad told us that he doesn't want to continue to live once he is totally blind, and that is something that is coming any day.

It makes sense why he has never liked me or wanted me.  Maybe he did while I was cute and couldn't really communicate.

It also makes sense why mom never fully bonded with me.  She wanted to adopt and dad did not.  So liking and loving me meant betraying her husband.

She always chose him, instead of me.

I'm not sure what this means to me, exactly.  I just know mom told me she wishes she could go back and make other choices, even though her life is exactly the same today as it was back then.  She still refuses to make different choices with my dad now.

Can I believe what she says?  I'm not sure?  Does it matter?  Where do I fit in to this family, and why can't all of us talk about it, with real meaning and stop pretending it doesn't exist?

Seriously can't believe this!

My husband drove me to my parents house late tonight.  Since my accident a few weeks ago I'm still scared to drive the crazy freeway.

My mom is going in for an angiogram, she may need a stent or if that is not possible, open heart surgery.  She is not planning on that, so I don't know what is going to happen.

My sister cannot get here until tomorrow night, so I came early so she is not alone the day before the procedure.

My last visit was hell, no nice way to put it.  I stayed up 3 nights in a row to get the real picture of what is going on here when my sister and I are not around.  My sister doesn't spend the night,  she comes for a visit during the day.  Although she did spend the night for the first time in a long time, last week.

So we decide to go to bed , mom comes into the room and tells me she cleaned off the other bed, and not to sleep in the bed I always sleep in when I come here.  Mind you I'm here all the time, and I stay days at a time.  I'm at a loss for words.  She tells me no, that is my sisters bed, you sleep in this one.

Now this sounds trivial to a lot of people out there, Im sure!  So...I stay here days on end on a regular basis, my sister stays one time  and I don't get to sleep in the same bed I always sleep in?  And this is the bed with the mattress topper!

OK, whatever.  I text my husband, and tell him what mom said.  He always knows how to get me out of this funk.  He responds by saying, "Thats because your just a number."   I laughed to myself.  And responded to him, "Yep, your right."  His response sounds mean, but its not.  Its dreadfully true.  My adoption papers all state baby girl #, no name, and so that is our inside joke.  I am not a real daughter, just a number, a purchase of theirs.  Basically, I do not count.  That is how he jolts me out of this la-la land of wanting a good mom, and to not feel sad, etc.

So I sit here, on top of my bed at my parents house typing this blog.  In the dark, as I plan on sleeping on top of this bed, not to dirty my sisters sheets!  Wow, what a punch in the gut.  Who are they kidding, and how much can a person take.   I am very glad I brought 2 bottles of wine to soften the blows from mom this week, maybe I will sleep and not lay awake wondering why I'm here, away from my family, trying to help a woman that really doesn't care or think very highly of me or even want me here.

Adoption will never work for me.  And I know that I will have to make peace with this mess and somehow be a better person and not get all choked up  and feel like I've shrunk back to age 10!!!    I have to be the better person, take care of people that don't care for me.  Its tough, but has to be done, with character, and kindness.  Its a big test, and I have to pass this one.  Maybe that is why I have been put here, in this situation, with these people?

auto pilot

Thats how my life is.  Around my parents and sister & her family.  Auto pilot.   Whats been taught and just about beat into me as a kid, just automatically happens.  Cathy, the good girl.  That is who I'm supposed to be.  Its awful to think that Cathy, the adoptee, could or would be bad.  Choose to do something wrong.   Its much more "Wrong, or shocking"  when an adoptee does something...bad.  In their eyes.

Its not just with regards to the family, its much more widespread.  Your so afraid of being bad just from being born, that you live your whole life second guessing each and every move you make.

Thinking that you will be judged, as the bastard kid that nobody wanted.   You think to yourself, a lot of stuff that I'm guessing other kids never think.

So theres this story I want to share.  One that is just unfolding now.  Today.  This week.

My parents health is failing.   Long story short, it was told to my moms sister,  to contact my sister, not me, to get the updates regarding moms health.  I guess I am not a reliable source.  I am not trust worthy like my counterpart.  The child they gave birth to.

When does the stupidity end?  When will these people get their heads out of foreign places and smell the fresh air and become human?

Because I was not born from this woman's body does not make me a gremlin.  A monster.

Because I was abused by my own mothers husband, yes my dad, I am considered to be unreliable.  Because I am not blood.   That automatically makes me a trespasser, someone you cannot trust.

My moms sister told me what my own mother said to her this week.  Don't contact Cathy, contact ......and named my sister.

What does this mean?

I am so over fighting to find my place.  To prove that I am worthy, that I am good.

In two months I will be 50.  I think its safe to say this will never end.  The stupidity will continue, and I will never, ever, get what I want.  Its just not in the cards for me.

Having your mom is important

I cannot express enough in words how important it is for (a girl) to have her mom.  I dont doubt its important for a boy as well, I just happen to be a girl!

In analyzing my relationship with my own daughter I realize all that I have missed with my own mom.  I mean I already knew there were major differences, its just that life happens, and we live it, and then one day we say, hey, wait a minute!  Hold on!  Im not even going to enter my birth mom into this mix.  The birth woman has never said "I love you" or tried to be part of my life, or acted like any mother I've known.

I could sit here and type all of the things I did not get.  And all of the good things I did get.

But its not about the stuff.  Its about the feelings associated with the good stuff, those special moments, the wonderful memories you remember your entire life.  And, the feelings associated with the yuck, ugly stuff.

One of the major differences between my sister and I.  She adores my mom, I see it all the time.  She has actually made comments about how lucky we are to have such a great mom.  I sit in silence, no real response for her.  Sure she's a pretty darn good person.  But apparently we've had different mothers all these years!  

Notice I said person, not mom.  She is a good person.  She just isnt the greatest  mom to me.  I'd have to say in all honesty, being brutally honest, that she has been a pretty good mom to my sister.  Wow, that was hard to admit.

What does this mean?  Does she not like me as much as my sister?  Or did she not bond with me the same as my sister?   I dont know the real answer, only how I feel and what I have observed most of my life.  I dont think she is aware of this so I doubt I will ever get an answer.

Carrying a baby for all those months, childbirth and bonding.  All of these things make a difference.  So you have your baby, the baby looks like your family....another difference.  Similar personalities, another difference.  Oh, and I always hear from people,  a story about  their own family, how this sister or brother was so different and didnt look the same or act the same as them or anyone in their family.  Uh, yeah, but nope, that brother or sister had his/her mom, right?  So...the point is...it is not the same.  

I feel this difference all the time.  Its like the family dance I'm not part of, that I've blogged about before. They are all speaking a language I dont understand.   I dont have the same feelings for my mom that I have for my own daughter and the urgency and bond with mom as I do with my own children.  I realize I am the daughter in this relationship with my mom, but I should feel similarly.  Right?  I should have the same enthusiasm and desire my sister has with mom and vice versa.  I know I should but I cant make it happen and neither can mom.

It is not my fault I feel this way.  I dont even know if its moms fault either.   In 1965 there wasnt the proper counseling to cope with loss of fertility or how to cope with a macho husband who had the issue of not being able to produce baby #2.  I do understand this intellectually, I just dont understand it emotionally.    

its important to examine the past

My birth mom found me when I was 19, in November of 1984.   She contacted my mom and talked to her first.  I was not living at home at the time.

My parents anniversary is in November as well.  

This same year, in November of 1984 was also the last time my dad physically hit me.

It wasn't until just recently I realized why he had this huge blowout, meltdown, and came charging down the hall and punched me in the face, twice.

I had no idea why he did this, he and mom had been shopping for antiques that day.  Came home and I showed up and next thing I know, dad is running down the hall and  I'm almost knocked out.

He must have gone {more] crazy that she had found me and there was an upcoming reunion?

We met the next month, in December and my dad was trying to fix up the house, he actually put up the shutters on the outside of the house he had previously taken down in one of his paranoid rages.  I guess at the time, being 19, I did not give it much thought.  But for him to do this, meant he wanted to make a good impression, and the house looked so bad from him ripping out all of the plants in our front yard, putting up security bars on every window and taking down the cute shutters around the windows.

HUGE LIGHT WENT OFF IN MY HEAD when I realized the timing of my dads blowup.  Here I was, just a kid and I was expected to endure this man cold cocking me in the face twice while sitting down, and expected to know why! Nothing had happened, that I could think of, we hadn't even spoke that day!    If he really was upset about my birth mom finding me, why didn't he just sit down and say he was upset, or worried or something?  And for heavens sake, why was he upset anyhow?  This is the same man that would tell me to stay away from his daughter (my sister) saying that I was not his daughter, while pushing me aside.  He didn't give a darn how I felt, obviously not even after birth mom found me.  Just about knocking me out, at the time and for all these years I thought he did this because of his hatred towards me.

I got up from my chair, pushed him as hard as I could, I was stunned, and he was pretty heavy at the time and I was a mere size 2 if that.   I went storming for the telephone.  I screamed, that I was calling the police and having him arrested.  Mom started crying, saying it was her anniversary, and she didn't want dad to go to jail.  I screamed out loud,  that he would never hit me again, this was the last time.  And I meant it.  Its funny in those days we had the home phone on a super long cord so you could walk around the house with it and talk.   I remember pacing around with the phone in my hand,  ready to dial the police.

Amazing I ever spoke to him again, writing this blog it amazes me that I continued to act out the motions of being the daughter and sister in this family.   Mom even lied about it happening after the fact, made it out to be something different than it really was.  All I knew was that I got punched, while sitting down at the kitchen table, looking at antiques mom had just bought.   There was no way of changing this story into something different!

Whats sick is, mom probably knows why it happened to begin with.  She lived with him, and I guarantee he was spouting off at the mouth about my birth mom coming to meet us.  No way was he quiet about it, just not his style.

During our reunion time I had driven down to the Orange County area to see the birth families on my own, after the initial meeting with my birth mom & full brother at my parents house.  My dad had screamed at me to never talk to him again, that basically I could change my name and take theirs and never have anything to do with him again.  He was fine with this.  As though it was all my fault they chose adoption.

It amazes me, that it has taken all these years to figure this out.  This November it will be 31 years since this happened!  I'd like to say that none of this matters, but that would be sweeping it under the carpet and allowing it to build and build until one day it would come busting out of the seams.  Really understanding and believing that I was and still am a good girl, a nice girl, is important to me.  For years I thought I was seriously defective, a bad girl, and that it was my fault that neither of my parents loved or cared about me.

I cannot tell you what a revelation it was figuring this out.  I bet there are many other incidents in my life, like this I have yet to figure out.

Daughter annoyed by birth moms "Thank You" card

My daughter came home from college to visit this past week, and I showed her the "Thank You" card I received from my birth mom for sending her a Christmas card.  I asked her what she thought.

I handed her the card, and she quickly gave it back to me saying she could not read it, she had seen enough and it was ridiculous that she would send me a "Thank You" card in turn for sending her a Christmas card.   She did not want to know what else she wrote, she somewhat shushed me up.

She is right, its strange that she sent me this card, and I wish I understood her purpose.  She's not written me in years,  has never sent the kids birthday cards, or Christmas cards to us, so why this card?

Why not an apology letter instead?  Apologizing for betraying me?  Clearly she has no plan on sending me that type of card or she would have done it by now.    How about a simple card, saying just "Sorry" - asking to move forward and forgive her.   30+ years into reunion, you'd think this would be easy for her to do, apologize and realize what she's done. I met her when I was 19, and I'm turning 50 on June 8th this year.

Its almost ironic that she wants to believe that I am the crazy one, point the finger at me for what she has done over the years.  Make me into the one that has caused all the problems.  Wish she'd get real, wake up, and take responsibility for her actions.  I have apologized for being mad, in turn, for her craziness.  There is not much more I can do...to make her realize what she has done.  Sometimes I imagine just shaking her, slapping her face and telling her to wake up.  I have even suggested many times to go to counseling.  But honestly, when a person refuses to face themselves, for whatever the reason and can easily betray their own daughter, telling others she is mentally ill and a liar, then I honestly doubt I can shake her back into reality.  This is work she has to do on her own.

Maybe the card is the first step?  Or maybe she just wants something from me?

"Get over it"

Who do others say this so often?  "Get over it."  Is this how we, as a society have been taught to process our loss, grief and emotions?

Not allowing us to ever process it, by being told, just get over it and in my own opinion, just shut up I dont want to hear you...is what they mean.

And how do we "Get over it" I'd like to know when these brilliant people demand we do this?  Any suggestions?  Find God, pray, join a club, move on....the options are endless.

This is why our children are the same as us, and the cycle continues, never broken are the chains, our loss, grief and whatever else you want to add to the list.

I think its somewhat sad, that society expect babies & children to be born of another woman, to  be taken away, raised with other people and then expects them to have zero issues, questions, or loss and grief.  Thats like saying we dont, as a society know that cigarettes are bad for our health, cause possible fetal damage when pregnant.  We know it, its talked about, and agreed upon.  Why is it then, that adoption is swept, right under the carpet, with so many arguments?  WHY?

So I was born to this woman, and then taken away, yet nobody is supposed to have a problem down the line?  Really?  Why is it that some people in this year in time when all you gotta do is speak into a cell phone to get directions  cant accept that adoption automatically brings loss and grief.  When I speak about it with my own family, you'd think that I had just grown an alien head.   Is it that far fetched to think that adoption brings such loss for everyone involved?

Loss of fertility for the adoptive parents, who sometimes would like to pretend the word fertility doesnt even exist or that they couldnt have their own baby is really no big deal.  Yeah right!  Or that someone like me,  taken away at birth, that I would not have any recollection of this as I became a toddler.  Or that my birth mom was supposed to leave the maternity home for unwed mothers with a clean slate, and pretend like nothing happened, after being told that in a few months it will be like nothing ever happened.  REALLY?  Even now, in year 2014, people look at me like I'm the crazy one when I mention the primal wound, of being ripped apart from one's birth mom, even if that woman you find out later on is not a good person.  That is not the topic of debate, its the fact that we have been torn away from our mothers, yet we are expected to bounce back and pretend this really isn't a big deal, nor does it affect us in any way!

Stripped of my heritage

Out of the blue my daughter texted me and asked what tribe (we)  my birth family is from.  I have to dig out my birth family information to give her the answer.    Haven't done that yet.

I told her that it doesn't matter anyhow, I cannot prove who I am.  She responded with a "Huh."  I had to remind her that I don't have my real birth certificate, so as far as the system is concerned, I am not that person because of adoption.   Its quite an irony, I am not biologically attached to my adoptive family either.  This in turn gives my children the same issue.  Its like stripping someone of their ancestry.  Once I explained this to my daughter, she was shocked.  She had not thought of that before.   She asked how to get my original birth certificate, and I explained I'd have to go to court and doubt I'd actually get it.  She was so mad!

Nope, most people don't think of this, what is stripped away from a baby when she's given up for adoption.  I texted my daughter this in response to her shock.  "Hence, my blog Who am I anyhow."
My daughter didn't respond to that text.  But I have been thinking about it a lot.  The dreaded question  I think I have the answer for with my 50th year of life quickly approaching.   It's a battle of managing myself,  alone.   You wouldn't believe what goes through my head on a daily basis.

I hate not having my ancestry for my kids, I resent it.   I am part Native American, and it's not that far removed, my birth fathers grandmother.    Because of adoption we can't claim our own heritage or ancestry, and its going to continue for generations, when my kids have kids, etc.   Do the adoption peddlers have any idea what they are doing when they break up families, or do they just not give a darn?  Can they grasp the devastation they are creating for generations to come?  

Longing to be trusted

I'm still going through the motions.  Going to anniversary parties, making custom photo blankets, making special rice pudding for my dad,   I really want to be part of the family, so I'm still compromising a lot.   I want to be accepted, I want them to look at me and really adore me, trust me, and confide in me.    I overlook a lot of "Stuff" that is said and done.  I forgive a lot.   I'm in the middle.

The caretaker that comes to watch my dad while mom is gone was told a week ago that, this one is adopted, we didn't have her, as she's pointing at my picture.  I can guarantee that was not said about my sister.  Mom telling me the story, hugging me and saying we do love you even if we didn't have you....teary eyed.  I feel stiff as a board, unsure of what to say except asking mom if she really told the caretaker this?!  

 It was my idea to make the photo  blanket for their anniversary, I really enjoy art, crafts,  and I excel at the computer.  So I did the work with re-sizing pics, etc.  I wanted to use pictures of everyone on this giant photo blanket, but my sister wanted only my parents pictures.  I felt it was wrong, because they've had such an unhappy marriage, it may be more comforting for mom to sit and look at pics of fun days throughout the years of her entire family .  Anyhow, the point is, she got her way by not compromising.  Only pics of my folks were put on the blanket.   It took me a long time to get the pics the right size, fix the clarity, etc.    I always feel as though my ideas, my judgement is always questioned.  My sister can never just say, OK, you do it and I trust you.  There wasn't even a bit of compromise on my sisters end.  This is how it always is, and how its always been.   This is where I feel adoption has failed me.  My sister, born to my parents is just like the two of them, personality, reasoning, temperament, etc.   I am not exactly like them, however there is an invisible barrier,  most don't see.  Looking at this picture everything seems fine.  On the inside, there is chaos.   They will tell you it does not matter I was adopted, but then why all of this nonsense?  

Sometimes I feel like I am a prisoner of adoption.  I know my place, I know what I'm supposed to say, how I am supposed to react to total nonsense, and I know that my opinion, judgment and feelings are not as important, or treated with the same dignity.  I am expected to go home, lick my wounds and tolerate all of this, told again I'm too sensitive and to basically, get over it.  Tolerate the fact that I will never be treated as a well deserved family member.  I will continue to keep trying to fit in, to please everyone, and honestly,  I doubt it will ever change.  I cannot change how they feel .

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.

The music swells, the mother runs and embraces her daughter...

I just watched Little House on the Prairie episode, Mary starts a fire in the barn studying for a test.  In the end, Mary is sitting in the field by herself, her mother goes to find her, the music swells, Mary turns her head and see's her mother as she runs towards Mary.  They meet, hug, and the mother tells her she's sorry, and come now, lets go home.  They are both obviously happy, love one another and the idea that moms run towards their daughters with open arms like in this TV show sends a chill down my spine. I have a bit of a burning in my nose and eyes, and I cannot deny I felt tears welling in my eyes.

I flock to movies and TV shows like this.  Always have.  Hallmark channel and I are best friends.  I imagine how it would be to be the little girl, and how touching it is to have that bond with your mother.

I just wonder if all those people working in adoption agencies have any idea what they are really doing?   Encouraging women to walk away from their baby, and taking the risk that another woman may not be able to fully love and adore her the same way she would?

Its a crap shoot, really.  How will the dice roll, who will win, who will lose?  How do these people go home at night, and sleep soundly knowing they have not done everything on God's green earth to keep that mother and her baby together?  Do they realize they are robbing an entire family of a sister, a brother, an aunt, uncle, cousin, and even worse, a grandchild?

There is loss for everyone.  History is changed.  Lives are forever altered, never the same again.  Yet you search the internet now and see the ad's for adoption's and it almost makes me feel panicked.  I cannot go there, and I cannot get myself so upset that I want to march down on the local street with a sign saying, "Family Preservation"  --"Dont give your baby away."

I know not everyone has an unhappy adoption experience, but there are plenty of them out there.  Its not like we get to choose as the adoptee.  Having a fairly painful experience myself, I often wonder what it would be like to be someone else.  I could be anyone, in a different situation, with a completely different reality.  Different parents, different city, country, the options are limitless.

At some point I would love to get up and speak to a large group of adoption agencies, and tell them what my experience has been and continues to be.  And how they act as God "Creating families" that should not be created to begin with.  The extreme sadness they have caused me.

Its a joke around my house, my adoption papers say "Baby Girl (C-2566)"  no name, nothing but a number!  So does this mean that when I was put into a foster home they called me..."Nothing?"  Just said, oh hey baby girl C-2566!    Its like a number from  a catalog!  ha!  Baby for sale!

All joking aside, I cannot deny that I do not feel warm and fuzzy about this.  I'm not super mad, but I would like to know "Who" had me for the first few months of my life?  And I'd like to know the family that brought me back!   I should be given the right to find out this information, its about me!

Those Hallmark movies and sappy TV shows will continue to be my favorite pass time, and I will probably continue to enjoy them regardless of the shoddy deal I got thanks to Holy Family Adoption Service, and those awful Nuns who were in charge back in the 60's.   I am moving forward, I have accepted what I cannot achieve and will not have in this lifetime.  That does not mean I cannot watch these movies and appreciate the mother/daughter bond.  It reminds me of my daughter & I, how attached we are to one another, and that makes me deeply happy, and has to be enough.

I wish I could go down to this adoption agency and tell them the devastating consequences their bad judgement and lack of common decency have been and that  it has taken me a lifetime to sort through all of the pain I have been dealt thanks to them!