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!