Am I the crazy one?

Sometimes I feel like the crazy one.  I've done so much sorting, analyzing, honest hard work on myself.  I mean, I've been brutally honest with myself.   Yep, Ive admitted that I'm a jerk.   Yep!  I have tried so hard, daily,  to be a better person, to say thank you to my husband when  he does trivial things for me, because it is important.  I try to think of things I "Should" be doing, for my own children.  Again, trivial things in life that later on in life, we think back upon and remember those trivial things with a smile.  I want to be happy, I want to be thankful, and I want to be appreciative.

So, I am happy.  I am thankful, and I am appreciative.  However at times when specific family members challenge me I find myself angry.   I dont like to be this angry, and I dont like to feel this way.  Yes, life is a challenge, I have no control over what others say and do.  I cannot control this family member, I have to remember this when I'm presented with a challenge.  I have to be clever, instead.

I communicate with family, probably too much.  I dont feel the need to hold back important feelings and issues, even though my husband thinks I should do just that.   However this family member feels she is "A Private Person" and on the other hand interrogates me, in a clever way, on a regular basis.

Hmmm....I just got a reality check this week.  I think I may have "FIGURED" this family member out! I think I know what shes doing, and why.  Maybe its the TV show "Medium"  I've been watching lately that has me thinking in a more clever way?  I get caught up in the same way of dealing with this family dysfunction.  Instead I need to react differently when asked, or interrogated as I sometimes feel.  I need to respond by saying "You tell me what is going on with you first" before I tell her anything about myself.  I think she may like to have it appear she is the helpful one, always helping poor family member like me.  In return I can do nothing for her, because she never tells anything, or reveals there is anything wrong.  For years, I have been in this tape recording loop with her, the same scene played over and over again.

This woman asks me more questions about my own grown children than I ASK THEM MYSELF!  WHY?   She does this, I believe to make herself, her own life seem OK.  She doesnt have to think about herself, her own woes, her messed up life, for lack of better term.

This family of mine, they are very good at deception.  They know how to "Keep up with the Jones'"  and make everyone believe all is fine in la-la land.

BAM!  I have struck.  I am not going to allow this any longer.   Everything is NOT OK.  It is not OK to interrogate me and my immediate family.  It is not OK to NOT share what is happening with your life,  family member.  I will NOW start asking you about WHY you have not been sleeping in the same room as your husband for the past 10 years, or however long its been going on!  BAM!  I will not pretend like your life is peachy keen.    And, if you want to know anything about me, you'd better start talking!  OR, we just wont have any relationship at all.

This somewhat ties into the whole craziness of my growing up time.  We all pretended that our family was OK.  For years my own family swept the craziness under the carpet, even flat out lied it ever happened years later.  We are now somewhat on the same page about what happened, we've lost some older members because they want to remain in that fantasy land.   I was treated like the crazy sister, the crazy aunt, the crazy daughter, for years.  It wasnt until just about 3 years ago that my niece and nephew found out about what really happened, and the reality of our lives.  Well, I doubt they really know the full truth, but close enough!    My family member seems to have told her own children lies, for years.  Made them believe, in a round about way, years of pretending, years of smoothing over ruffled edges, making them believe there was no alcohol abuse, no physical abuse, and that wonderful grandmother of theirs, she sat for over 10  years and allowed, watched this man she still calls her husband, terrorize me, physically abuse me.  Now, these two great kids feel sorry for this woman they call grandma.  Poor grandma, even though she "CHOSE" this life, even though she had no back bone to stop this man, and still allows him to abuse her today.   Funny how my kids feel differently.   Hmmm....wonder why?  Maybe its the years of crap we've taken from the grandma and grandpa.  I'd have to say the turning point was in 2002, when my own mother, when asked if we could stay with here for a short time to find a new place to live after losing our rental, told me to go live in a homeless shelter with me and my kids....my daughter heard her!   When asked about my husband, she basically said, who cares where he goes.  Or maybe just a short time ago, months before my dads stroke, on Mothers day.  Dad taking me out to the garage at my sisters house, me thinking he had something important to tell me.  Instead I was handed a hand written list, of items he and mom had purchased for me and my family.  Like birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, even money that was given.  Each of my children listed separately on his list.  I asked him, what is this?  In shock, I could hear my heart beating.   Once I realized he had no good answer, just some intimidation, and ugly words to make me feel less of a daughter.  I said you want me to pay you back this money, for presents you bought my kids?  He had no answer, and I walked away.  THIS is my nieces grandmother and grandfather.  And yes, the grandmother still goes along with this man, conspires with him, as she has always done.  The woman that never called me after I stopped bringing my child to her house in the mornings from far away.  She never once questioned why she never saw Austen again.  Then, just recently when discussed, she said she didnt know what I was talking about?  Really mom?   You had been my epileptic sons caretaker, my husband dropping him off some 2 hours away every day, yet when we stopped bringing him, you never questioned it?  Yet you have the nerve to tell me you knew nothing about your husband coming up to me on Austen's birthday and telling me, "Mary Anne's kids come first, find another person to watch Austen"  --  At my kids birthday party that ass tells me this.  Mom was sitting on the couch and acted like a beaten whimp, never had the guts to face me, yet instead lied about it years later, making me feel like the crazy one!

See the pattern, my awful "Fantasy land" pattern.  I have hoped and given these family members  different personalities, different histories.  Different realities, but it has to stop.  I cant pretend and continue in this deception that all is OK, and forgiven.  Because nothing has changed, my own mom is still being abused, denying that she is abused, or that she was his partner in this crime.  She still lies about what was done, and being done now.  I cannot change her, I cannot change how she feels inside.  I cannot make her love me, or my dad love me.  But I can focus on the fact that I always did want their love, and that I am worthy of it.  I just wish we could all sit down and be honest about WHATS REAL.  And stop pretending.   My niece posts a pic of her and my dad on Instagram.  I felt sick after reading her small description of her and dad.  Im still annoyed...they dont care for my dad, or maybe they have just been trained so well they just automatically write this la-la land, fairy tale "Fantasy" nonsense  that I've been conditioned to write and speak all of my life?

Fantasy for so many, hard to break the cycle.

Dirty, disheveled girl...but obedient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh see now your part of a family Cathy"  

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

"Oh I really wanted you"

Silence on my part....

I was at a loss for words....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the furniture I painted and then stenciled:

The "Card" for my mom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I've dreamed about you every day, my mother

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A GIRL NEEDS HER MOTHER?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ADOPTION, THE 4 LETTER WORD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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