Its time to speak up Mama, I have spoken up…xoxo you have got this…xox

Dear Adoption, I Wish I Had Her Freckle

Dear Adoption, I Wish I Had Her Freckle
— Read on dearadoption.com/2018/11/08/dear-adoption-i-wish-i-had-her-freckle/

Hey baby girl. It’s been so long that we’ve talked in this world. I always talked to you in my dreams. Just like my Mama does with me. Dreams are where our souls commune while our bodies rest. It’s kind of like avatar. Here is where we play out our roles, as souls in bodies.

There’s so much I want to sip tea and hear about you and your life now. And to hear what it’s like without me around? I’ve missed you baby. But I know you had to do what you had to do. But you know me? Honest to what folks call a fault? It’s really hard without you baby? But at least I can see you in my dreams. Thank god for that.

Our connection is strong. Thank you for your prayers during this, whatever it will be called? Conniption? Breakdown? Facing some shit and some people? Setting folks straight. You know how I am? What the hell did you think I was gonna do baby? Leave it like it was? Hell no! What a mess? That old way was! Lord Jesus! Can’t anyone up there even see that? I wonder?

Yeah. So like a good Mama, I’m teaching you how to stand up to your Mama by standing up to mine? And claiming the birthright that runs through my veins! That has always been mine. Nana is hard wired into us. Claiming my blood line birthright has nothing and everything to do with Nana! She always matters. Did you think my Mama sent me to fail? Like I hope not? Baby doll? All I’ve been through with that woman wasn’t for hate sake? I may hate how folks act? But I love them enough to tell them so they can change?

Honest feedback is a key ingredient to any good relations with anyone. If folks can’t take the truth? Well? It’s on them? And to take my own medicine is to say that I won’t be writing to you anymore because it appears you don’t even want me anymore? Which is so weird? Because I never gave up on my Mama? And it feels like you gave up on me? Us? Nana? Angela? David? Maximo?

We can have a new life? We can rewrite a new chapter? But you have to show up to help? How can your lines and wishes be written? Do you just want to drink tea together? Yes. I love you? It’s hopeless baby girl. I can’t stop if I tried. Gramma broke me. Love. I just keep loving folks when they fail to see love in me. I keep going back for more. I show up. My Mama didn’t. And it hurt so bad. It made me shamelessly show up for folks that block me, leave without saying goodbye, divorce me, make babies with me, give birth too, that don’t understand me?

I could go? But what is gained to give up on love? You know I don’t back down girl? What I love I love. There is no off button baby girl?

The only thing that can be changes is folks accepting me as I am? And me accept you like you are? And if this is how it must be for you to be happy? Ok. I don’t want to. No. It hurts. And it does not feel like the right action? I also feel a new narrative would help. The old ones blown out. I apologize for barfing all over the internet baby? But I feel my story can help folks that are like me to overcome their fears and to find their voices? Like I’ve found mine again. More.

It’s like there are layers to a voice? Depth? I don’t know how you are doing it? I guess being mad at me like my Mama is? It works for a while? But real love when it comes to call? Angers not got a chance against that kind of force? Especially a fierce love like I have for you!! My precious surprise gift! I know I am a shit baby? So are you. But that’s ok. I’d rather have a shit like you than any other shit!

You are missed. By us all down here. I don’t know what you’ve been thinking? But like stop please? And read my works baby girl? Mama loves you true. Even in hard times. That’s the lesson I learned. Anger is the other side of Love. I know you love me true too baby girl. It’s ok. Just call me when you can please.

I miss you silly? You hit me. I feel the pain? Ouch. Baby girl? I love you so much. Not even distances can stop it. Not even anger can stop it. Blocking won’t work? It’s like a flood? Why wouldn’t you want that? Why would you block that? Because I don’t act right according to you?

My Mama gave me away? I don’t block her? I love her and try to work on us? What’s your deal? Yeah. I put it on blast? What did you think I would do?

Anyway? If there is hope for us darling? Hit me up? I don’t know what you want? And I don’t even want to talk about not talking to you so I won’t say I’ll leave you alone? I am your Mama.

Being a Mama is a calling I do take quite seriously. Gladly. I am glad I am your Mama. Come what may. I love you. I just don’t like your actions right now. Xoxox💋💋💋💋💋💯❤️😘

I am doing something. I’m writing here so my Mama can read my words and understand what’s happened while she was gone from my life. A lot went on and evidently Mamas not so happy about it all. She thought I would be treated better? Yeah. She did.

Cuz when I told her? She blocked me, as if to say? Yikes! What the hell? Regroup. Panic. Head spin. Wowza!!

That’s exactly what I did when it hit me. I blocked Mama. Or so I thought? My mind did, but my body defied my mind and showed me who was boss. The body. My mind argued for years about it as I asked everyone I could what they thought about Mama sending me away to be adopted. Many felt I should just cut her out of me? That’s really what it’s like? They said just forget her. I would tell everyone reading this that and then expect them to tell me How it goes? Cut my Mama off is like trying to cut yourself to shreds? She’s everywhere! She’s the skin I live in? So is my Dad? Like people just don’t think?

And running from the pain of being removed from her life is like running away from something tied to your leg? It’s follows you and bangs up against you when you run? It’s doesn’t work.

Forgetting Mama means forgetting half of myself? Seems kind of strange folks don’t see that about it? I truly tried too. But in the end it hurt more than holding on. That’s just the truth about it. I’d rather dangle off my Mamas Ass them be cut off from her if that’s how it is? Like total reckless abandon? Ridiculous, yes, but that’s how my body feels about it. Just to be near her makes me feel better. Just to connect to even her grief and anger helps me connect to something real and raw. I’d rather feel anger and grief with my Mama then nothing at all.

My pain shows me I am alive and not dead. It’s shows Mama that too. And she must surely see a choice is hers and mine now to make. I think Mama must like yo be chased or she would stop and look at me? Yeah? She’s rather run from me then stop. It’s just a pattern that’s changed. But Mamas stuck on her treadmill going along without me when I’m right here. Seems silly to me? But she’s stuck? And that’s not silly at all.

It’s sweet she’s trying to disappear all day so she won’t shine. But that’s just an illusion. She’s in my Name and shines bright each time someone says Belinda, they say Mamas name too. To think Mama Jean did that? Put Mamas name in mine and didn’t even know Mamas name was Linda? That’s God right there. I feel it honors Mama if she can see that? Beyond all her nightmares about it? There is honor for her in my very name, she is professed and remembered? Lol. God is amazing.

It this is doing something and I feel communication is key. Misunderstanding have been reeking havoc on our reunion and to have to hear my own family members who are linked to adoption through me, say some of the stupid things many have said to me? Hit me like a train! Took me 20+ years to figure out what to do about it? Walk away? Leave them in ignorance? Do what folks told me? Forget them? Their loss? They don’t deserve me and my love? Wwjd? Hmmmm? Face it. Die to self and address it.

A long time ago I learned about hating actions and not people. I learned that people act a certain way because they learned to cope and act that way growing up. It’s like people are pitchers and get filled with training and coping skills by watching those around them growing up. Mama and my family got filled with stories of what folks felt Adoption was like and painted a very nice picture for Mama to look at an admire? When she mourned her loss, the loss she shoved down so long ago. That story she told and told and told herself to maintain her course away from me. How else does A woman do such a thing?

When I came on the scene, that old story didn’t make sense with me now visible? But without me around Mama can just go back to business as usual. I felt like when I went to see her I was ruining her dream life?

The day i went to see her and she told me she was not my mother blew me away! I cried over that one. Like wow! It’s was like looking at a person in the throws of psychosis? I informed her that my blood if drawn would identify her as my Mother! Like wow I thought? Ouch.

Like thanks world for lying to my Mama! Way to go. What a mess I must clean up now that you made of my life and Mamas mind. Now she can’t seem to flip the switch? Like the lights are on and no Mama is home? I scratch my head and wonder and pray.

This is doing something. Confronting this is the change we all need. Children are always connected to their parents. My Mama needs to see that and accept that as fact. She read fiction to long.

This blogging and confronting my family’s ideas about family has been illuminating. To see my own Mama so spun out and unable to even pray over us? It’s like the devils got her by the tail. And it’s not me. It’s the old ideas that hold her. I’m the one telling her to jump from a sinking boat. She’s scared. Will I let her fall like she let me? No. I know what it feels like and I came home to end the pattern not keep it going.

I came to jolt my mother board back to life! She’s not dead either! And there’s so much more we have to go together that way better than this here cleanup. I am a stickler for details. And if we all are gonna get along my family should be able to understand it all and not be left in the dark like I was and they were for that matter.

This little light of mine has ever-ready batteries it keeps on going. It’s lite by the lord within me.

And my truth is the fuel. If this wasn’t truth I’d have stopped writing along time ago.