The truth washes over me, like a rain of grief, and pain, mixed with anguish and the toil of the young girl I was. This is not me now, this is a wave of emotions from my past, washing over me, spewing out of me, from the child within me that felt it all and stuffed it. And As I cradle the child within me, broken and trying to be so strong. As I wipe my own tears, shed by my child within, who just needed to be heard. Her sobs wet my face. As she cries out to me,and begs me to take the pain away. Her Mama is now Gone. And she only has me, the grown up to look to for comfort about this. No one can hear her except me, the Mother I became to myself, to cope with this loss, a loss that rippled and wrenched this child within me to the very core.
Her tears flow, today. And like I said, she begs me to make it better. To do something about it. If that sounds like schizophrenia or personality disorder? So be it. If I must be labeled to be understood. Ok. Label me if you must. But this is how I coped. Ok? I guess I spilt up to try to figure it out. I guess I resurrected the best version of my Mother I remembered. And she helped me cope with her death. Becasue NO ONE SAW MY PAIN. NO MIRROR WOULD SHOW ME THE TRUTH, that I felt inside. Except. My Mama Linda. When I finally came clean about it to her.
She showed me the horror and dismay. As a Mother should. She was totally turned upside down and feared for her own life. As I did, so long ago. At two days old, alone, and yet with people who wanted to love me. Love me? Where is my Mama? She has to sing to me. She has to rock me and my sissy Lizzy girl.
I chose to remember everything inside her womb. Every sound. Every word. Even though I did not consciously understand their meaning. I would learn that later. And I remember her pain and tears about me. I knew she wanted me gone. I knew she had misunderstood my coming. And I knew I would not be able to love her like other kids do. I knew she would go. And I did not want her to go. Fact. I wanted to love her forever. Just like I love her within her. As I was Riding around with her hearing her inging to the radio. Full blast. Loud. Dancing. And rocking my sister. And me. I remember. And hold those memories dear. Rehearsed. Remembered.
But Mama Linda showed me truly. And her actions did not lie. She felt the full force of my pain. It tore her heart right out to hear it and to now know my truth. She felt what I felt so long ago. And she wished I had not said it. Yes she did. No. not even my, turned around, lied to, patronized, and amazingly funny, beautiful, articulate, passionate, and caring Mama could hide the mirror from me. So that I could gaze in and see what my trauma had twisted me into. A mess she could not seem to understand. She stood and looked at me and gave it to me. The truth.
And I wept. And I weep now. As I collect within me, wrapped in a tattered white silky baby blanket, the frgments of the child that just exploded inside me. I work to knit her back together with love. She’s not so bad. Maybe a bit weird and wired quit differently. True. And I sing to her. A song. I’ve sang for year. Mama Jean taught me this new song and I sing it at times when I am sad or upset. I sang it to my children growing up at bed time.
And it goes like this. Or this is how she sang it to me. And it seems to smooth me.
Stars are the windows of heaven.
Where angels peep through
Up in the sky, they keep an eye
On kids like me and you.
They cry each time we are naughty. Their tear drops are the rain.
But when we’re good they are smiling.
And they shine again!!
My Mom says, Stars are the windows of heaven.
Where angels peep through.
There is a lot of pain. Yes. But through that pain. Mama Jean loved me. Even though she knew, I loved You. Too. Or loved my Mama Linda. And she knew. I was hurt. But we never talked about it. She just helps me carry the burden. We both lost something you know. Mama Jean lost two babies. And I e worked so hard to be the best child I could to her. She showed up. And deserves that from me. I am grateful for her. Yes.
Mama Jean took a chance on me. Something Mama Linda couldn’t do. Wouldn’t do. And yet was what she so desperately needed to do. Thank God in a way. She is the salve on the wound. For my Mama and me. She took what my Mama Linda did not want, without any instructions, medical history, genealogy, or a face. Wow! They did things weird back then.
And Mama Linda cut all ties. Feeling that she had tapped out and gave her rights away. But she did not think about my rights. Now did she? What would I have to say? Or what would I feel? She hoped I would feel ok? But was that for her to decide? Or determine? Can she tell me how to feel? Can she tell me how to think? No. she was not there to do any of that. Fact.
And yet why does my Mama not rise? What is taking her so long? The truth will set us free is what it says. And yet why does she appear bound? She is not that woman from long ago. This I know. She may be out of date? And may have not considered my side at all? And yet she need not stay there languishing? If forgiveness is here. We should be able to come together.. right? Should not forgiveness be leading us together I ask? Can not Mother and daughter be able to talk these things through? Maybe a councelor to help with it? And yet, I am still waiting? Looking for her call, email, or letter. Saying, maybe, let’s talk. And pray.
It also says, to confess your sins to one another.
Have I not confessed them?
- I love my Mama Linda and Mama Jean
- I missed her terribley, and hid it from the world.
- I never mourned her loss openly
- I do not like adoption because of this
- I hate secrets
- I want children to be accepted by their Mama’s.
- I want woman and child rights
- I missed my family and don’t know how to bridge the gap
- I cus and say foul words and still love God.
- I have a personality issue.
- I talk to myself to self comfort.
- I talk like my Mama Linda from Memories I kept inside.
- I was exceptionally wounded as a results of relinquishment.
- I was torn apart and conflicted my whole life.
- I held my inner anger, frustration, fears, insecurities, and wounded feelings inside for years for fear of rejection from the only people who showed up. That was huge.
- I secretly wished for my Mama Linda who was nameless at the time, to come pick me up so we could go home for years. And still do. That’s a hard one to break. I love Mama Jean. This is about honesty here. I felt like that.
Mama Linda showed me the horror of my truth. It wounded her. And At 54, it is horrific to loose your shit in front of your Mama’s. After so long. She expects you to have it together. And I had held it together for a good deal of time. Yes. But I fell apart. I was holding to worlds together within me. Mama Jeans and Mama Linda’s. I just could not keep it up any longer. I just could not contribute the sharade anymore. I’ve worked hard to prove myself. I’ve worked hard to be a good daughter. And I could not do this alone anymore. Everyone needed to know. So I could get help and support, to get it back together.
I needed all my family to help me and they needed to see, so I could adjust myself. No professional needed, except my family support. Through this time. Grief is a strong drink to swallow. And equally strong to throw up. It burns like vomit on the way back out. It can not be stopped. At least not for me. Nor is it easy to hide. Not anymore.
I guess I just don’t get it. My Mama and I have come this far, why quit now? Why just leave it like this? Why seems to be the theme here in my life.
And I search for answers to questions only my Mama can answer. But why is so so silent? Ugly truth is still worth something. And when spoken and allowed to escape from your lips, it cuts away the lies we told each other for lack of not knowing. It clears the air of the old. And leaves a fresh slate, if we do the work and faint not. In due season. I believe. We reap a harvest of new.
Thanks for diving deep with me.