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.   

Lets face it...

 Let's face it...."My Son" was mom's favorite,  my sister tells me.    My sister and her x husband came to see our newly remodeled home, we took them  for an early dinner and we had a good time. We both had a small drink,  and I chose each and every word that came out of my mouth, very, very....carefully.  I listened more than I spoke.  I am always cautious about what I share with my own sister.  She still, to this day, shares pretty much nothing of importance with me.  I guess I always find that to be an untrustworthy trait, for a sister at least?  I used to share way too much with her, and got tired of her sharing absolutely nothing with me about her life.  My husband, for years, urged me to stop telling her about our life, it took me many years to finally stop.   She waited six months to tell me that she and her husband divorced and he had already moved out before I was told.  We live 19 miles from each other, not 19 hours, and we've always lived very close to one another our entire lives.  Our families shared almost all Holidays together, mom & dads birthdays , anniversaries, you name it we were all together.  

My sister, feeling brave after having a drink,  goes on to list all of the things her son did for our mother.  A list of reasons in her mind, that made her son, our mother's favorite grandchild.    

I was at such a loss of words , I stood there, almost frozen by her coldness and listened as we walked to our cars.  As the words were coming out of her mouth, she was speaking it seemed, in slow motion.  At one point I couldn't hear her any longer, I could hear my heart beating in my chest, and I felt myself floating away, thinking I couldn't wait to get into the car and leave, and what seemed like an eternity as she told her story about her angelic son.  I was bargaining with myself, very quickly...do I shout at her and tell her to shut up, or maybe just punch her right in the nose?  Instead I stood there, with my mind contemplating all of the horrific things she's said and done  to me while our mother was slowly slipping away as she tries to prove to me that she and her son did more for our Mother than it seems, anyone else.  I chose to say nothing, and to be honest...after her first few sentences, I have absolutely no idea what she said to me as we said goodbye.

Let's face it, I was nobody's favorite, how could my children be "Our Mothers" favorite I thought?  How can she say such ridiculous things to me?  After all that has been said and done, she still feels the need to "One up me" or to hit me below the belt.  She still, after both of our parents being gone now for years, feels the need to flaunt her superiority,  proving that "She" is the important birth child and that her children still are our mothers favorite, and how she feels about our Mother is much more meaningful than how I feel about her.

Lets face it,  my sister feels that because she is our Mothers "Blood Relative" that her feelings, her regrets, her sorrow and grief are more meaningful and more important, than mine.  With her cunning words, she downplays anything and everything that I shared with our mother,  the time and precious moments we shared together.  

Lets face it, my sister still feels threatened by me,  as I wipe the tears running down my face as we drive home, I will always be my Mothers daughter and as much as she hates that idea, she can never change it.  Adoption, is a four letter word, it is the invisible abuse, the life altering decision nobody wants to talk about.  The others want to pretend that it's "My fault" - never wanting to own their part in the dysfunction and feelings they have about the fact that I was not born to my mother.  But trust me, at age 59, I can hear that pain in my sisters voice  and her lack of really saying to me..."She was MY mother not yours" and telling me that her pain, the loss of our Mother is much more meaningful to her than it is me.  If she could, I think she would say I have no right to anything that belongs to her.  

Let's face it, adoption doesn't always work, and I have to find a way to live with this reality.  

I miss Mom

With all the exclusion, the dysfunction, heartache and sadness, I still miss mom.  

Im sad she never got to meet my granddaughters, her great granddaughters.  

She never got to tell me how she felt inside,  for the rest of my life I have to sit and guess how she really felt about me and a lot of other unresovled feelings I still have.  I have to investigate every moment we had together.  Maybe the truth is waiting for me to be found, somewhere?  Some days I can feel the burning inside of my chest, the tears well up in my eyes, and I have  the deepest, most unbearable ache I have ever felt, knowing I will never see her again.  

I did find voicemails mom  left on my old cell phone.  When I accidentally stumbled upon them I felt absolutey sick to my stomach, I felt hysterical inside.  She left me a lot of voicemails as her memory became much worse.  She would call me when I was on my way to see her as she  would forget that I was even coming.  I played the voicemails, I heard her voice,  and it was the most painful thing I've done since watching her take her last breath.   I listened to all of them, one by one, hoping to find the answers, maybe she said something of importance?   When alive, I kept waiting, day after day, for her to say something special to me, hoping she would give me the anecdote for the years of abuse I endured.   A secret I never knew, or something so earthshattering that I would be able to say, "I understand" and not feel this way another moment in my life.  

What did my life mean to mom?  Did she  find it hard to feel the same way for me as she did her own birth child?  It sure felt that way to me, and I was like a  little child, waiting on each and every word that came out of moms mouth.... up until she passsed away.   My heart wants to believe that she loves me, but the reality of it all was that she struggled to have those feelings for me, I felt it, my husband felt it, as well as our grown children.   They feel as though they grew up without a grandmother, and feel mom had no voice, no opinion,  and sadly...she did not.  She sat and allowed a lot of unfavorable things to happen,  to be honest there was a lot of things she did not do that hurt just as much.  These unfavorable things continued to happen up until she couldnt remeber much due to dementia.    

My sister had said to me before mom passed, that I had the issues regarding adoption, insinuating that I had the problem.  I stopped her in her tracks, I told her very bodly, that NO...I did not have the issues, it was moms and the rest of the family that had the issues.   Why else did all this ugliness  happen over the years, up until our niece got married recently?  After her weddding,  I checked out, I distanced myself from all of them both physically and emotionally as best as I could.  I had to see mom at my sisters house until she passed away,  so I had to keep things somewhat mellow.   I have to say here, that regardless if other family members refuse to recognize what they are saying and doing , exclusion stinks, its paralyzing, its past devastating.

I see what it's done to our grown children, they have endured more than their fair share of disappointents with this family.  They have all become so used to behaving this way, that it's normal to them.  And sadly I blame my parents for this.  Mom never had an opinion about anything and would say, everyone is different.  That was her way of saying she refused to step up to the plate and make things right within our family.  I still cant believe my nephews eulogy stated that my mom never did a wrong thing in her life.  It was then that I fully understood he, my niece and sister  did have a different grandmother/mother .  How do I continue within this family when I feel so deeply different than the rest of them?  I cant speak the truth around any of them.  I have to listen and keep quiet and have little to no words from my mouth.  I feel like this adoption sentence may last a lifetime if I don't find a way to unbury myself from the emotional wreckage I have been left with since mom has left this earth.  

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.

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.  

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?

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 .

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.

Re-negotiating process?

Over the past couple of weeks I have found myself trying to re-negotiate my belonging in any way to my birth mom.

I took the one pic I have of her in my home, down.

I look in the mirror at myself, and look at my eyes.  I don't want my eyes to look like hers.  I try to imagine they look like someone else's.

I look at my skin, and I know I got my skin type from her.   Even my hair, the way it falls, makes me want to re-negotiate.

I wanted so much to know the feeling of looking like someone, and now,  at this stage of reunion, if thats what you want to call it, I dont care who I look like.

I never thought this would be a part of this process...to de-fantasize my life.    I try to push the thoughts of any resemblance I have of her, out of my mind, I try not to think that any part of me is like her.  I see a picture of myself and I shudder at the thought that I appear to be like her.

Have I ever said or done something remotely similar to something she has said or done?  I have been re-thinking everything.   Do I behave like her?  I dont think so, I answer myself.  I have been on a mission to try and listen better to others, and to be a better person in general.  I think this woman is the reason why I feel so motivated to do this.

Such a strange feeling today inside of me.  What is this whole mess we call adoption, how does an adoptee fit into any of this mess?  Why does it matter where I got these darn toes, or ears?   Does anyone else really care where they came from?  Are adoptee's the only one that care about finding out what bits and pieces we got from relatives?  Does anyone in the birth families really think about this stuff, or is this the wonderfully divine present left for the adoptee to sort out....alone?

Seriously, I have been on this journey alone, with the exception of my husband who's been a champ.  But my mom has never really cared about who I look like,  I don't think my sister has really given it much thought.  I know my birth mom was curious enough to clear her name, by finding me.

So today, I am finally realizing and feeling the reality that I would like to re-negotiate the entire deal.  I don't want to be the adopted girl.  I don't want to look, act or be like her...ever!  I just want to be like everyone else.   I don't want to analyze every step of my life, wondering if I am in any way, shape or form, like her.   At this point I don't even want to admit she is my birth mom, and I do think I have the right to make this choice.

Turns out, not so funny story...I guess?

I was telling my aunt Mary, my birth fathers sister who happens to be my age about something that was told to me years ago.  At the time the story was told, I was probably in my early 20's, and I'm guessing a tad bit easier going than I am now?  You know, just didnt think too much about anything.  At the time, it was dangerous, I was on the edge and knew just to keep everything compartmentalized.

Anyhow, my birth mom  told me the story about how her family found out she was pregnant with me.  How everyone was torn apart, she was in the bath tub, and her mom came in, realizing she was pregnant.  Her father was in the hall, and her mother told him the news.  He replied, "Not Nancy, shes too smart for that" -  REALLY?  SHE's too smart for that, I'm guessing it was the immaculate conception, right?  She got pregnant by herself I was probably thinking when I heard the story.

My birth mom continued with the story, she had been trying to abort me.  Using Coca-Cola, ways I never thought possible, to make the pregnancy go away.  Long hot, almost boiling baths to somehow make me go away.  Her girlfriend had helped her find ways of aborting.  As you can all see, it didnt work, as I type this blog at age 48!  ha!

So theres the story.  Was told many times to me by my birth mom.  When I told my Aunt, she seemed shocked, taken back with this loud noise like she had just seen a giant rat in her house.  I guess its kind of mean to tell such a story to one's child you've just met for the first time, maybe it would have been better to keep this story a secret?

My aunt said something very important yesterday.  She commented on the Coca-Cola attempt and said its like "Your not the same person"  ---we both paused.  Silence.  We both realized that we discovered the truth.  Nancy, my birth mom, does not realize that I am that baby.  I am Cathy,  a person that does not really click in her head as being her child, like my full birth brother.  I am that baby in her belly that was trying to be aborted, she did not want me.  So I get it, she never bonded with me, she did not want me.   I was like this mistake she somehow had to deal with, and when she met me, she only wanted to be sure that I was indeed Doug's baby.  She had been messing around with another man, and everyone pointed the finger at this other guy.  So she really did find me just out of pure selfishness.  Just out of curiosity.  She wanted to clear her name, rub it in everyone's face.  To show the world that yes, I was Doug's baby.

Well, she succeeded.  My grandmother, my Aunt Mary's mom, almost had a heart attack when looking at my baby pictures.  It was clear, I was Doug's baby.  That was enough for her, she went through some of the motions, for a short period of time, but after that, it was pretty much over for her.

So what does this mean to me now?  Maybe, just maybe, it gives me some insight to why she has behaved so badly over the past 30 years?   I would not behave this way, but this could be how she has survived it?

It does not change how I feel, or what has happened.  I do not want anything to do with this woman.  But it could clear up a lot of things, mainly why she sees me and does not connect me with being her baby.

Enough time has passed

I feel enough time has passed to safely say I have done everything possible to try and make amends with my birth mom.  To force her to love me, to reciprocate.  I even forced her to a CUB retreat, where she was incapable of hugging me, brushing my hair, or saying that she loved me.  To this day this woman has never said, "I love you."

I have been forgiving.  I have gone back for more after forgiving and never hearing an apology from her.

I have been helpful.  I have helped both her and my birth brother countless times over the past 30 years.   I have helped financially, emotionally, and  physically.  I have NEVER asked her for a penny, for emotional or physical help in these 30 years.

I have overlooked a lot of adversity.  I have ignored and overlooked her stealing, cheating, and lying..for 30 years.

I keep asking myself, "What do you want from this woman"  --  I know the answer.    Unfortunately, the answer cannot be attained in this life.  My birth mom is not capable of love, nurturing, being my mom.

Having said that, why would I talk to a woman who cannot be my friend, my birth mother, or treat my children with respect and kindness, or even think of them.

What do we have to say to one another?  What would a conversation look like?  Well, I know what it looks like, one sided.  Her side full of hatred, lies, betrayal and mine full of hope.

What is the point?  Because she gave birth to me I am bound to endure her betrayal again and again?

I will never get what I want from this woman I call my birth mom.  The reason for the title of this blog, "Fantasy mom has died"  -- she has been buried, and is gone, even though she has not really died.   Its the process of acceptance, of things I cannot attain, cannot change or continue to have hope for.  I believe to the depths of my soul that 30 years is long enough to safely say, "Enough."

Enough.

Adoption makes no SENSE at times!

If I sit and think things through, I understand why my family doesnt get it.  In my mind, it makes sense. I can get to the end and understand every single person's position.  Where they are emotionally, and why.

In real life, it does not make sense, because I cant find the solution.  I know what needs to be done, what needs to be said, to be cleared up,  to be able to move forward to the next level.

I need to go to the next level.   I have to sit and think about how I can get this accomplished.  Mom does not want to discuss things that make her uncomfortable, and to be honest, I dont think she can be very honest.  Its too painful to admit things about our lives, and its possible she is not even aware of how she really feels.  She has spent so many years in a dysfunctional marriage, and been the caretaker of my dad, and has been abused herself, she may not know which end is up...so to speak.

OK, so I'm back to the same level I'm at.  I may have to accept this level.  I may have to realize that I have to micro manage my family.  I have to be thick skinned, accept the insults, accept the comments.  Im supposed to keep excusing mom's words, and I have to believe she really doesnt mean any of them.

Do I get smart, and call her out on her words.  Or do I just continue to pretend that she really isnt saying them, and excuse her.  Wait.  Isnt that why I'm blogging, to get rid of this "Fantasy Mother" that really does not exist.  Am I supposed to continue with this fantasy, keep pretending to make their lives easier?

Why do I always have to be the one making their lives easier?  Why do I have to compromise?  My sister says Im too sensitive, and that mom does not really mean what she says.  OK, then what does she mean?   I ask her, does mom say these things to you....no....ok....then what do you mean?   So I'm continued to be told to shut up, in a nice way.  I should not make anyone feel uncomfortable.  OK...so go back to my first sentence....I know why mom is this way, I get it.  But were all adults, lets just get through this and go to the next level.

See why Im stuck.  The work has to be done by myself.  I have to somehow find a way of accepting this.  I go through the motions of family life, but somewhat detached.  I'm not feeling the same way as they rest of them are.  My kids are not feeling the same as their cousins.  Our bond and attachment is different with my parents, and I am woman enough to admit it.

So I have to find a comfortable place and accept that family life will be just as its always been.   I am not saying I dont love them, I'd do anything for my family.  I just would like to "Feel" differently.  As I've said before, I dont like having this disconnect, which is why I continue to search for ways of repairing this.    I search within to find answers, and solutions.

There is no quick fix, you cant say "Move on" or "Get over it" - does not work.  How does one  feel that bond when its never been there to begin with ?   I guess all of the parties involved possibly feel this way,  searching for a bond that does not exist.  There is loyalty for all parties, which is an important feeling, but its different than that bond.   Maybe that is enough?  Maybe I just have to accept and go to the next level knowing that loyalty and knowing my place as their daughter is enough?  I cant change what has been done, or said, or continues to be said and done.  I cant create a bond...like I have with my own family.

I just looked up the meaning of the word "Bond."  And I found an article written in Psychology Today talking about mother-daughter relationship.  They stated, "There is great value in the mother-daughter tie because the two parties care for one another and share a strong investment in the family as a whole,"  ---I find that interesting.  All of you adoptive moms out there, remember how important it is to make sure your adopted daughters feel like they are part of the family, and investing in the family as a whole.   This is crucial to make sure your daughter grows up knowing her position, her place, and realizes her importance in your life.  Age 48 she should never be told that "Now, she is part of a family."  --She has to know immediately, her worth, her value to you and your extended families and cherished as though you gave birth to her yourself.  

Self-fulfilling prophecy! (laugh)

I wish my life could be summed up in a few sentences, using the term "Self-fulfilling prophecy" to solve everything.

Dont you wish you could just say, oh, I was wrong about everything...just kidding, I just made this stuff up!  I had nothing better to do for the past 48 years, just thought I'd write a blog that contained nothing but lies. or self fulfilling prophecies!  hahaha!

People like to reduce others experiences, how they feel,  to tell others "To get over it" or "Forget about it" even if the abuse in many forms continues to happen now.

It is easier to move forward if the same old stuff  is no longer happening.  If the people that matter to you are no longer jerks.  Makes this process that so many geniuses are always pushing onto others, you know the "Get over it" theory.  Give me a break!  You get over it.

Having said that, I received a comment to my last blog.  Someone who remains anonymous said they had only read one of my blogs, but thinks I have created a self-fulfilling prophecy.  That my perception of what was said, and what is said, and continues to be said must be wrong.  That I am too sensitive.  That I think back to the past and somehow bring it into the future, the current time.  So basically I am full of it.

Hmmm...just wondering, how many "Non-adopted" people out there were told age 48, "Now you are part of a family."    This was said many times during a conversation, and after receiving some precious china from my mom's mom.  I blogged about it.  After I told her how special it was having her mothers china, and how I realized I now had so many generations of women's china in my cabinet.  This felt like such a blow to my gut.  Here I am so proud and happy to have this china, and this moment is being reduced and deducted to a mistake.  And I am then reminded that see Cathy, now you are part of a family.  Who says this to their daughter?  Especially not after saying that the box containing the china really didnt belong to me , but to my sisters daughter.  It would never come out of my mouth if I already thought my daughter was my daughter.  As I blogged, I immediately said I dont have to own anything, I can share this china or give it to my niece.  The china is not the issue, its my moms opinion and feelings for me.  I dont want it that badly and I love my niece, I'd give her anything I had.  That is my point.  I dont care about the china, its what it means to her, and her giving it to me was the honor.  As the honor was quickly changed to something else.  A mistake.  And I have to add she does this all the time.  Reduces things and somewhat of a slap on the face sort of feeling, punched in the gut.  Maybe she doesnt realize what she is doing?  Its comfortable for her, she is used to behaving this way ?  I dont know, thats why I blog in hopes to find the answers.

Just curious, all you folks out there, how many birth kids were told this?  How many birth kids were left out of generation pictures because of family members not being "SENSITIVE" enough to think past their rear and realize, oh yeah, Cathy and her daughter are part of this picture.  This is just an example.    How many of you birth kids can say that you dont have any genetics in common with your parents, grandparents, etc.   Honestly, I think my family are clueless of the insensitive and cruel things they say and do.  I dont think they do it to be mean, its a bad habit, one they've become used to .

Dont tell me you know,  or that is the same.  It is not the same.    I dont know what its like to  grow up with a birth mom, and you have no clue what its like to grow up as the adopted child, with an older sister that was NOT adopted...if you are not adopted.    No fault of my sisters, or my own.  Nobody is really at fault here, its just the way it is.   Lack of knowledge from the get go.

Having said that, I chose to create a blog to help myself.  Not to argue with ignorant people that make stupid comments.  Im serious, no sarcasm here.  I mean what I say, if you dont like it, simply dont read it.  If my experience bothers you, or upsets you too much, just dont read.  I will not apologize for how I feel and what did happen and is happening.

This journey has allowed me to not repeat what was done to me.  The abused usually become abusers.  I have not repeated this cycle.  The domino effect has not continued because of my honesty.  Again, if you want to sweep the abuse and dysfunction under the carpet, go for it, but I cannot be part of it.

Saying I have created a self fulfilling prophecy is ignorant.  I did not abuse myself, I did not choose to be adopted.  I cannot deny that ignorance annoys me, and this is the only place I can really say so.

What do they mean?

I'm always trying to figure out what my family means when they say the things they say.

My brother in law  is in hospital for surgery.  I go to sit and wait with my sister.  It was a long wait and an awful experience to have alone.

I hear from my A-mom, how appreciative "They are" that I went and sat for hours...with my sister (called by name)    I shrugged it off.  Trying to focus on what someone told me about being too sensitive...oh it was my sister.

Again, its said.  "They" appreciate it so much that I sat for hours.  Here comes the crickets again, dead silence on my end as I search for a response.  I think I said, Uh-huh and quickly ended the cell phone conversation.

OK, and again its said by A-mom, that "They" really appreciate me spending the time with my sister.  I have only one sibling, my sister.  On and on about it.  OK, time limit to how many times you can say this and not really mean it has been met.    This wasnt some slip on her end, she means what she says after repeating it over and over in a  7 hour time frame.

My nephew grabbed us coffee, the hospital cafeteria was closed.  And a nice snack for me as well.  So after I went home I texted and said again, thanks so much for grabbing us coffee and a snack.  He thanked me for sitting with his mom, my sister.

I answered "I am your moms sister, this is what sisters do."  I got a smiley face in response.

Dont they know I am the sister?  I have known her husband, my nephews father, the one in the hospital now for about 30+ years.  We have spent the past 28 Christmas' and Thanksgivings with them, countless birthday parties, fourth of July, Easter, etc.

What does this mean?  Am I the outsider, the friend they are thanking, or am I the daughter, the sister and the aunt?  I'm confused, because who says this to her own daughter?  Im just curious to know what it means?  Why is my own mother thanking me for sitting with my own sister while her husband has surgery?

SECRETS

One last blog for the day.

I wanted to mention that I keep a lot of secrets from my family.  They dont know this blog exists, and have not read it.

Truthfully, I doubt anyone in my family has any idea as to how I feel. They think they know!    If I asked them to read my blogs, my feelings, they'd probably be in shock or laugh, maybe even slug me.

Its too difficult for them to be honest, about what is happening now, what has happened.  They cannot and dont want to talk about any of the things I have blogged about.

My sister thinks its too late for my mom to change.  I disagree, and have clearly told her again and again that I dont think its too late for anyone...to change.

Problem is,  some of my family members are living seriously dysfunctional lives.  How can I ask them to be honest when they are not being honest with themselves in their own lives,  and have not been honest  for years?

As I have said before, tackling one's self takes a lot of discipline, and hard work.  Being honest with yourself is exhausting and hard.   Its not a task a lot of people want to start, because it can take years to finish!

 My husband and children somewhat understand me , so I am not totally alone, but its not something I talk about daily, or care to discuss on a regular basis, so I choose to do this blogging and self help somewhat alone.

Someday my family may read this blog, or my book I plan to write, and I will have to deal with that when the time comes.

So I am slowly branching out, allowing certain people to read my blog, and I find this extremely scary and hard.  What will people think, will they understand me, will they criticize me, will they not like me any longer?  Its possible, especially those family members who live their daily lives in serious denial.

I AM TITANIUM

"TITANIUM" - David Guetta  (song)  
I'm criticized but all your bullets ricochet
You shoot me down, but I get up
I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium
___________________________________

This is my song, I decided last night...  

This song is the grown up version of me skipping through the parking lot of Lucky's supermarket, on my way home, knowing I'm ready to be pounded for something I did not do, or for no reason at all.  In my head I hear my own voice clearly, I've blocked out the rest of the world as I skip chanting, "I'm a good girl, I'm a good girl, He's a bad man, He's a bad man."

Now as I hear this song so emotionally performed, not meaning literally shoot me, but metaphorically.   I cried on the way to my sisters house yesterday, on my way to celebrate my dads 87th birthday, realizing that my adoptive family has no clue who I am, how I feel, or what has really happened to me.  They dont really care, because they refuse to look it straight in the eye.  Admit to what has been said and done, their refusal makes them weak and because I have fought so hard, I am the strongest.  

They can keep shooting me down, but  I wont fall, dont they get it?  They cant destroy me, but they have  tried, I am too strong for all of them.   I will keep getting up, and I will continue to sort through what has happened so I can continue to be strong.  

Adoption, a word spoken so freely.  People hear that word and immediately they think  its good, warm and fuzzy, fairy tale worthy.  Does anyone really know what its like when adoption is not a success?   Do they know the truth of how it feels to be  abandoned by my supposed mothers, both birth and adoptive, again and again. Do they understand that even a woman, grown with her own grown children is still sitting here today typing to get her feelings out onto this blog so she can pull herself together after a family get together that has left her exhausted.  Do they know what its like growing up, wondering where these amazing people that loved me so much they gave me away, are?  Having a sister that was not adopted and seeing the differences that are nobodys fault, yet still hard to experience even as an adult.  Realizing that as an adoptee you will never have that feeling with anyone except your own children if you choose to have them.  That special bond, that a lot of adoptees miss out on with both mothers.  

As hard as this is to admit, it will be as hard to explain.  Im just now beginning to like myself.    My entire life has been searching, understanding, sorting, forgiving and accepting to finally be able to look in the mirror and see me.   I have not recognized myself in the past, thought myself to look and be someone different than I am.  I am guessing that is part of the fantasy I created, but its like looking in the mirror for 48 years, and seeing the back of someone's head.  Not really seeing into myself, or recognizing who I am.  I know I have always been strong, that I remember, but somehow through this process of adoption and life, I created some person I dont recognize in the mirror.  Maybe its the process of acceptance, that I will not have what I had hoped and dreamed of having for so many years.  Part of this fantasy, or maybe its just hope, that one day you wake up, and everything is OK, these feelings inside are gone.  Everyone is in sync.  It was all just a bad dream, and I woke up realizing I am just me, regardless of where I came from.