A Step Back Part 1

I realized today that I have never shared my reason for searching or what happened after, here in my blog. So, for a few days I'm going to step back in time...

It began in the winter of '99 while I was away at Malone College in Canton. I found myself thinking about stuff there, that I hadn't much let myself think about at home. The biggest reason for my being able to think more clearly, was that my mother WAS NOT there. I was finally free to think about whatever the hell I wanted to think about! So, I had been thinking about my birth mom here and there. Our spring break was always very early in march. I never wanted to go home, but for breaks like these, I had to, as the dorms were closed down. That winter, I had been regularly talking to Kara, a friend from high school, who had just happened to get knocked up. (We had no sex-ed) While I was home on break, I found out that she had gone into labor early, and was already in the hospital. I was planning on visiting her, until I heard where she was. She was at St. Ann's-the hospital I had been born in. I instantly knew that I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. My mom told me that day, that the hospital had been moved. The new St. Ann's was on a different side of town. It didn't matter. It wasn't so much the place itself, it was what it reprisented to me. I came to the decision that if my adoption bothered me so much, that I couldn't visit a friend in the hospital, then it was time for me to search.

WTH Doesn't SHE "Just get over it"?

I haven't talked to my birth/first/bio mom in over a year. However, when we did talk, there was a reccuring theme coming from her, that I should "just get over it". So, today I'm going to stand up for myself (on the anon blog lol) and ask "Why the hell doesn't SHE just get over it"? Why doesn't she get over her selfishness and insecurities? She has told me ad nauseum that she was perfectly fine with what she did, but her actions don't support that. When you are secure in something, you don't feel the need to repeat yourself over and over. Emotionally, she can't handle seeing or talking to me. Why doesn't she get over the fact that her friends aren't going to ditch her because she had a baby that she gave up when she was 17? They aren't going to desert her for that, but they might of course, ditch her for the way she treats me now. In fact, I know of one that got super pissed with her. The things that I'm supposed to "get over" are things that can't be gotten over unless someone waived a magic wand and my life history were instantly changed. I can not just pretend that I fell out of some other woman's crotch. Would I have rather come from some other woman? Sure. Maybe that funny lady Joy Behar or maybe even some random woman down the road who would at least appreciate me. However, I look exactly like her, so it's like DUH! So anyway, today I'm standing up and shouting, "HEY KIM, WHY DON'T YOU GET THE FUCK OVER IT?"

Those Damn Golden Girls!

Ugh! Once again, I've swept up into another rerund starring Blanche, Rose, Dorothy and Sophia. Perhaps the mere fact that I'm watching them says something (not so good) about me, but I digress. I've been sitting here thinking, "who the hell sits around the kitchen table with their mother included, discussing their sexual excapades?" Dorothy has broken up the Beatles (fake ones) reunion tour and is having an affair with one of them. Blanche's attempts at seducing a widower have failed and she just called herself a cheap slut. Who knew right? Sophia is like 90 years old and tried to steal Blanche's date. I don't understand why these women are so obsessed with sex. They're all like 70 years old-isn't that past the age where you're not concerned about "doing it" anymore? God bless the typical, corny, 80's sitcom.

Begging

I want to speak to my first mom so bad! I've thought of sending her a card asking if I could, "please, please" speak to her. My God though, why should I have to beg? It would make me look pathetic, which I am, but do I really need to remind her of that? Besides not wanting to beg, I know that her answer will probably be "no". Will she outright tell me no? Not likely. I'll have to take the hint from her silence. This is crazy. Again, fuck adoption!

What to say on Father's day?

So what is one to say on Father's day, when they have no father and only had one for the first six years of their life? I don't know. I have no words.

She hit the nail on the head!

The reason (yes I will finally come to the point) that I decided to write this is that I have read a lot about adoptees searching, reunions and their difficulties, and reunions gone astray. A common theme seems to be that adoptees don't understand why they were 'rejected' and n-moms don't understand or can't face the fact that they caused harm to their child.

I was reading over at Animal Adoption House and read the above statement. My God, Fuzzy Rat has hit the nail on the head! As sure as I know my name, I know that my first mom can't handle the fact that adoption was not kind to me. There's so many things I don't know though. First, wth isn't there more out there to help these women deal with this? Certainly, women don't place their babies with the intent of hurting them. In fact, I'd bet that so many had NO idea AT ALL that this was anything, but the best thing to do. Second, in regards to how this affects reunion, why do first moms so often reject their grown child, whom they know has already been hurt? I can understand the idea that it's easier to ignore what happened than to deal with it. However, I don't think that makes it ok. Often in life, the high road isnt the easiest to take. Isn't a woman's child worth more than the easy route? I had to admit that I have a lot of anger regarding this issue. I deal with my feelings and pain of adoption every single day. I can't ignore it. Why is it so easy for my first mom to ignore it, to ignore me? I sure wish that I was important enough for the high road.

Why Every Vote Must Count!

Today, I was watching CNN as the Democratic National Convention met to decide whether or not to include and how to distribute, the delegates from Florida and Michigan. The big controversy is a result of these states moving their primaries up, against the rules of the DNC. I'm of the opinion that it was not the people (common folk) in these states who made these changes. They were powerless in these decisions. It is not right to disenfranchise hundreds of thousands of voters. However, disenfranchised they were. There were so many blacks and women sitting at that table and I couldn't help but wonder if they had forgotten where they've come from. Althought the 15th ammendment had given blacks the right to vote, so much in society had kept them down and they were anything BUT free to vote. Is the Civil Rights movement or the voting drives of the 1960's so quickly forgotten? I should hope not! Ten of thousands of black folks risked their lives in their attempts to get every black man or woman registered to vote. People were hung, shot at, had their homes burned down by Klansman who went around burning crosses, all for one thing-the right to vote. It's a shame, that these people who are very Martin Luther King Jr.esque in their speeches on other things, couldn't remember those same ideals on such an important day as today.

Getting Ready To Piss Some People Off

Yep, I think I might be headed toward pissing some people off. From the beginning of my venture into reunion, no one has been willing to tell me who my biological father is. Under the "guise" of protecting me, I've heard "he's not a nice person", "You wouldn't like him", etc. When I first met my aunt, she let it slip out that my biological father was a relative of hers. Based on the info I had from the state, I soon figured out who he was. My birth father is my uncle's brother and my birth mother is my aunt's sister. It sounds really weird, but trust me, there was nothing weird going on. So, I have told my aunt that I know who he is. I found out earlier this month, that his birthday is coming up in a few days. I have decided that I am going to send him a card. I hope no one puts too much thought into it and my motives, as it will simply be a card, wishing him a happy birthday. There will be no trying to meet him. I don't want him in my life. Just a simple card and I should be able to send a card to whoever I want right? I Heart Adoption. Not!

Best Wishes,
Jen

Chocolate Sprinkles and Dog Shit

I found a really cool blog today! The writers are a birth mom and the daughter that she gave up for adoption and reunited with. They seem to have very common adoption issues, no shortage of them actually, and it's nice to be able to hear from "both sides." In one of the posts that I read, Fuzzy Duck (adoptee) was feeling the very familiar feelings of not being important enough to her birth mom and feeling unneeded. She compared herself to being the chocolate sprinkles to her birth mom's whipped cream; a niceity, but something that could clearly be left out. I'm ashamed to say that while reading this, I found myself being selfish and petty. I was thinking how can she complain about being sprinkles? Sprinkles are a good thing, no? I told myself, "at least she isn't crumbs", "at least she doesn't feel like the dog shit to her birth mom's shoe", "at least her birthmom talks to her", etc. etc." Yes, that is how I feel-like dog shit to your shoe. Stepping in dog shit sucks. The stuff is gross, it stinks, and it's hard to get off. Basically, an annoyance in life that one tends to avoid.

As many things that I could come up with to say, "at least..., at least..." to, I realized it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. I can't make light of her circumstances, regardless of how I view mine. Pain is pain is pain. Hers doesn't feel any less to her, than mine does to me. Both of us have reason to say, "Fuck adoption."

Fuzzy Duck, I'm sorry.

Best wishes,
Jen

God, I'm 30!

I'm 30 now. It doesn't feel any different, but just thinking 30, seems weird. I came to the conclusion that I can pretend to be whatever age I want. Nobody will know the difference. People have always guessed me to be way younger than what I actually am. When I've corrected them, I have often got the response of, "you'll appreciate looking young, when you're older". I wonder how much older I have to be, because I surely don't appreciate it yet.

I was stupid and secretly hoped that either you or Sue would email me on my birthday. I don't know why I even hoped this, as I knew it wasn't going to happen. I really don't understand how you can just ignore it. Frankly, I think it's rude.

Time to retreat

I've been feeling it for about a week now. It's like I was born with an internal clock that lets me know when the time is near. My birthday is coming in a little over a week and my body is telling me it's time to retreat. The feeling starts as little reminders, such as going to the bank and noticing the date or passing by someone else's calendar, but it gets bigger. It's to the point now, where my body is screaming at me that I need to run, I need to hide RIGHT. NOW. So, I will retreat as I do every year, in order to try to avoid the feelings surrounding my birthday. This is no time for excitement or to celebrate. It is a time to stick my head as far into the sand as I can and to do my best to make my mind numb. Don't ask me what I want for my birthday. Nothing I want can be bought with money. Please don't call me or knock on my door to ask me to come out and play. I can't play right now. I am busy. Busy trying to make sure that I don't think about being left at the hospital. Busy trying to keep my mind in check and not let it wander to a place that reminds me that I have a mother just 20 miles away, who pretends as though I don't exist. I won't be stupid and wait for you to come back for me, as I did when I was a little kid. I no longer wait for the phone to ring, as I did when I got older. It's been a long while since I've waited for a birthday card or even hoped for a simple email. It's not coming and you're not coming. I can't go there anymore. At 12:00am on March 25th, I will come back, breathing a sigh of relief and dusting myself off, knowing that it is once again over.

Best Wishes,
Jen

Thursday's thoughts

I'm watching American Idol and wondering how many damn gray sweaters does Simon Cowell have? There's a guy named Danny who is up now. He didn't make the top 12 and is crying like a girl-not to mention he looks like one. lol I really like the celebrity edition of The Apprentice. Although, I really didn't know who most of the people were, when it first came on. I miss ER and have no idea when it will be back. Damn writers strike!

I spent two or three hours at the thrift store today. This is what I typically do on Thursdays. I bought some capri pants and a few dresses. Not to wear, but to sell on Ebay. Tomorrow I will go to work. It doesn't look like I'll be working this weekend, which is a disappointment as that is when I make the most. So it goes, I guess!

Best wishes,
Jen

Who did you vote for?

I wonder who you voted for yesterday? I voted for Hillary. I'm hoping for a Clinton-Obama dream ticket! As soon as it's determined who the nominee will be, I'm going to go work for their campaign.

Stubborn women

Last week, I emailed Sue to see if she could ask you to answer the email I sent to you about breast cancer. She replied back that you wouldn't, but I doubt that she talked to you about it. We got snarky w/ each other. Her emails reminded me of some of the ones that you've sent me. I'm sure it didn't help matters, that I start running my mouth when I get mad. I don't really expect us all to get a long. Although, it would be nice to not get snarky. I think all three of us are very stubborn women, who often think that we are right. It's funny to notice genetic things like that. I could see us beating the shit out of each other! LOL!

Slave to pills

I am a slave to my pills. They control my time, where I can go and how I feel. There are different sized orange bottles on the kitchen counter, in the medicine cabinet, on my desk and in my coat pockets. There is no room for spotaneity in my life. I can't go some place and decide to sleep over. I have to plan. I have to put whatever pills I'll need in a baggie to take with me. There's pills to keep me from crying, pills to keep me from getting anxious, pills to keep me from raging, pills to sleep, pills for allergies, pills to keep me from puking, pills for headaches and pills for my lungs. Nice, huh? Some nights, I just want to go to bed. I don't always feel like going down stairs to get my pills and water. I can't remember what it's like to just go to sleep. I've been a slave to these G-d damn pills for eight years.

Best Wishes,
Jen

Eight years ago today

Eight years ago at this time, I was at work finishing up the lunch dishes. I was going nuts with excitement and nervousness. It was going to be an exciting day, maybe the most important day of my life, the day that I would finally meet the woman who gave birth to me! It was all I could do to not ask my boss to let me leave early. When I got home, it took me about two hours to get ready! I didn't know what to wear and I had know idea what to do about my dorky haircut! I called you that afternoon to make sure that you still wanted me to come. You told me that you had had diarreah (HA HA!) and had to make yourself eat a bologna sandwich so that you wouldn't get sick. Thinking back, I don't think I ate anything.



Everything was so surreal. When you answered the door, I couldn't believe it-we looked nearly identical. I don't know what was wrong with me, because when you asked me if I thought we looked alike I said "no". Sorry for being an ass! I'm not sure why I didn't hug you when I got there. I had no idea WHAT to do. I do remember being very happy that there was no crying going on. I wasn't into crying then. (Little did I know....)

Like I said earlier, the whole event was surreal. I remember feeling like I was floating in the air, and just watching what was going on. I had wondered about you for almost twenty two years and all of a sudden I no longer had to wonder. I'm all too guilty of putting up walls and blocking my feelings. I realize that it's not the best thing to do, but everyone has to find SOME way to cope. I know that meeting me was really hard on you too. I'm honestly sorry about that. I wish I had known more; studied up on this type of thing. Although, there's probably nothing that can completely prepare a person for reunion. If I had known that that would be the last time I saw you, I would like to think that I would've acted a little different and tried harder. One thing I know for sure, is that I certainly would have hugged you. Hugged you for a long time. Anyhow, here's to eight years of no longer having to wonder. **holding up beer mug for a toast**

Best wishes,
Jen

The reason for the name of this blog

Dear Kim,

Every day, sometimes several times a day, I think of things that I wish I could tell you. I have come to realize though, that we don't know how to communicate with each other. Our emails always seem to become argumentative. I walk away feeling like you don't understand what it is that I am trying to say or explain; I know that you think that I talk in circles. For now, I will talk to you on here. Though you may never read it, at least the words have been spoken. Perhaps someday, I can send these entries to you. While, I would much rather be able to talk to you, it serves neither of us, if we walk away frustrated. For now, this will have to suffice.

Best Wishes,
Jen

An answer to your question

Just a warning... This was very hard to write, so it might be best to not read it all at once.

A while back, you asked me in an email, if it would have been fair for you to disrupt my life when I was a child. I never answered, but I'm at a place where I can try to answer it now. I doubt that my answer is going to be what you expected or what you want to read. That's one of the reasons that I never answered. However, it would be a disservice to both of us, if I didn't tell the truth.

As a child, I really thought that you would come back for me. I expected it to happen and I wasn't frightened by it. I think my understanding of adoption, or lack thereof, was part of the reason I thought this way. Being adopted wasn't talked about very much. I know that I knew about it before my brother was born and he was born a month before I turned three. The only thing I was told about adoption, was that my mom wasn't my "real" mom. In my chidish thinking, I knew the opposite of "real" was "fake" so I thought that she was just someone to take care of me, until you could.

I was always hypervigilant about watching and waiting for you-especially around/on my birthday. There was a lady at our church who had the same birthday as me. I was very skeptical of this lady and I remember secretly thinking that maybe she was you, but she just couldn't tell me. On my fifth birthday, I wasn't at the sitter's- for some reason I was home. I remember playing and stopping dead in my tracks when the doorbell rang. In the thirty seconds it took my mom to open the door, I was thinking that I just knew it was you. You had finally come back for me and I was ready! Of course, it wasn't you. In fact, the lady w/ the same birthday as me, had brought me flowers. I had never heard the word "conspiracy", but for some reason, that's what I thought was going on. I thought that everyone BUT me knew who you were.

I don't know how old I was when I stopped watching out the window, waiting for you. I think I did it for quite some time. Even when I had stopped watching and waiting, I still looked for you. I was always looking for you, everywhere that I went. So, would it have been fair for you to disrupt my life? Based on what I thought as a child and knowing that I always assumed it would happen, I can't say that it would have been unfair. Again, I know that's probably not what you want to hear and I am sorry for that. However, what good would it do for me to lie?

Best wishes,
Jen

A cancelled appointment

I was supposed to see my doctor today for a "girl exam". I didn't go. I called and cancelled. The reasoning for which, may sound stupid, but made sense to me at the time. I knew the doctor was going to ask questions that I don't have the answer to. I knew I would be asked if anyone in my family had had breast cancer. I'm almost 30 and that's the age you have to start having mammograms if you have a family history. I didn't want to once again, have to say, "I don't know. I was adopted". It's not so much embarassing, as it is awkward. Most people just have no idea what to say, so they say some of the most stupidist things. Many don't understand that they really shouldn't ask questions and should basically SHUT UP! I've had doctors ask me if I knew who you were, if I'd met you, do I talk to you, do I have siblings yada yada yada... Luckily, as I've gotten older, I have learned to give short answers that don't lead to more questions.

Best wishes,
Jen

Valentine's Day

It's been eight years, but I remember it well... It was Valentine's day morning and as I was getting ready for work, I decided to quickly check my email. I was happy to find that there was one from you. The email was quick and simple, but when I read it, I was over the moon! I was so happy! This is how it felt I told myself, to not have to go another holiday without knowing who you were, without knowing where you were. I no longer had to wonder, because you were right there. You wished me a happy Valentine's day and I wished you one back. That email meant more to me, than if someone had given me a million dollars!

I still know who you are and I know where you are, but I wish I knew more. I wish I could have sent you something for today. It's hard to do though, when I have no idea what you would want and don't know what kind of things you like. At Christmas, I wanted to send you a fleece blanket I had made, but I didn't know if you'd like it. Maybe you would have thought it to be tacky or cheap. I don't know. I think about things like this every single holiday. Not one goes by, that I don't wish I could send you a gift.

Best wishes,
Jen