And the only reason I title it as I have is because of how it feels when you meet someone for the first time and you don’t see any kind of bond between you. Did paper help me bond to anyone? Or did paper just tie me to a post that has a sign that reads, daughter of so and so. Like a dog. Who am I really?
My adopted Dad, Elmer introduced me to his niece a few years before he passed. Her name is Gert. And I could see that Dad really acted about her and wanted me to care too. Gerts a lot like me. She was abandoned by her Mama when she married a man named snake and went to live with a mountain woman. She’s a loner. And she a maverick. She raises cattle and makes her own way. She’s a month older than my Dad would be if he was still alive.
I’ve gone to see Gert a few times since and before Dads passing trying to connect with her. And it’s not easy, I’ll tell you that. But I’ve done what I could to keep trying and the last time I went to see her she ran me off with a very mean attitude. And I was really hurt by that. Because Dad never let me know her while I grew up. And I don’t know why? But I guess I’m figuring it out, now.
Yesterday, I met her daughter Holly. I’ve heard about Holly from Gert. She did not come to my house to see me. She went to my in laws to buy nuts and happened to see my husband and proceeded to ask for a picture Gert gave to me. Strange. So strange. I was shocked and a bit taken back about it. But who am I to her? Really? Gert brought the picture to me because I have the matching picture taken the same day of my Dad. And I guess I was co fused about it being a gift? I tend to do that, being adopted.
I guess I thought it was a token from her as a family member who cared about me? Guess I was wrong. It’s just so upsetting. I think I am in and find out I am not. That’s how it goes, on and on. And I am tired of all the mixed signals. I am tired of thinking I am family when I am clearly not viewed as such. I watch the family I was adopted live their lives without even a thought about inviting me to family functions other than funeral, where my Voice is useful and not complicated for. Like some puppet they allow to perform for their functions, but not really loved and cared for like a real family member.
My Dad loved me. And I guess he was trying to show me why he never took me around them before his passing. He protected me from his own family because they just didn’t get it. They never wanted to get it and probably never will. I mean that is how it is for Adoptees all over the planet. I read the same kind of stories that I live all day in and day out. Watching and waiting for a sign and seeing none. Folks don’t get it. Not even Mama.
I was thrown into a place where nothing fits or lines up expect with others that have been through the same thing. People just can’t see it, they have never lost what I lost. So how can they even relate? And they don’t. And I show up to do my song and dance and they just take advantage and give nothing in return. Except for maybe Cousin John. Cousin John is kind and caring as he can be about me. He comes to call and talks shop with me, and I love to listen to such a man as he who takes the time to spend on me.
Yesterday’s experiences is just added with the others that have peeked in my broken heart for years. As I watch family just ignore what Dad embraced and loved as his on even though I was not from him. He invested in me what he had. All his love and care, as best he could. He was more than a father to me. He was my friend. And for me? That is a high honor. I miss that man. And yet his spirit lives on within me for what he invested was pure and real.
Being adopted for me is a two edged sword that just keeps cutting and cutting me. I bleed. I heal over and them, someone cuts it open again. I am tired. And I just want my Mama. Like why is that so bad? And why doesn’t Mama see that? Or feel that? What’s my Mamas problem? Like being a Mama is a natural thing? And yet she and I don’t act natural at all? If I can’t fight with Mama and talk about things children talk about to their own Mamas? What’s the deal?
Maybe being aborted would have been better? Why am I hear? To just watch everyone with what they have and not get any at all? It’s like being the dog at the table and smelling the food and not getting any. It’s like listening to everyone else have fun and being tied to a post to have to watch it all. My heart hurts. And it just keeps piling up and putting pressure on my mind that hasn’t found peace about what Mama sent me into.
I ponder and feel that being adopted is much like being God watching everyone just use their free wills without even considering the consequences. I watch people that are family not even care about each other and watch those that are my family not even reach back to me when I reach to them. It’s so upsetting and disturbing. Is that why I am adopted? To witness and not partake? To just walk the earth detached my whole life and not even get to feel what it like to be with family?
Everyone says family is who you chose. Family are the ones that get you? And I wonder. Who the hell are they? And where are they? I know a side to Mama my own sister don’t. I am apart of Mama she hid from sight and buried deep down. And she really appeared to not want to let me out of that living grave. She deemed me dead to her own mind. But I am not dead. I am alive and living, without her. Why is god glorified by a Mama that does this? Why is this Love? Why? Because it sure doesn’t feel like love.
If the scriptures say that if my Mama and Daddy forsake me? God will take me up? Well that sounds like love. God takes me in. Like Mama Jean did. But why does God need to do that? Free will has something to Do with that. For sure. God can knock. Like sending me to Mama. That was God knocking on her heart. But there obviously wasn’t room in Mama Heart Inn, so she didn’t answer the door. And why did God send me back? To look at it again and again as Mama closes God out? What is the Bible good for if Mama doesn’t even practice it with me? What’s the use?
I don’t even think Mama can accept herself being like this. Because she’s hiding. She been hiding from God for years. And when I came back? She was not happy God sent me and blamed it all on me, her child for wanting a second chance to be what I am, her daughter. Raised my another and yet alive and still caring about her. Even though she acts crazy in my eyes, I still keep knocking and knocking others words and deeds to show her blind spot.
When will my own Mama practice and listen to the words of Amazing grace? I once was lost? But now I am found? Mama did not want to be found. So sad to see. Cuz I put my best foot forward. Yes I did. I came back to her with my Love first. I am a 60’s love child. Conceived in passion and some kind of love. Why did Mama want to sleep with my Dad? She was married at the time and yet separated. And she met my Dad and slept with him and I was created from that. Me. The child abandoned.
What is it about me? That makes Mama cringe and pull back? People all say I am the embodiment of my Mama. Those who see her place and then mine report that they are so alike. And yet Mama gets upset when I look around her place and marvel the same thing? It surreal being with Mama and being so like Mama and she can’t even see it or say she sees it? If she were dead it would be different. But she not. She living In Oregon in a house with the same vibe as mine. So amazing and yet I can’t even be happy about it.
These things happen over and over. And I just want to break the cycle. I just want to mend what Mama tore up. I just want to be who I am. Her child. And I want to spend time with her. I don’t really care if we argue for all time, I just feel, at least we are communicating something? At least we care enough to keep trying? Is that so bad? But Mamas to busy teaching Christians to cook to spend her precious time with me. She too busy to take what’s left of her time to spend it on me, the child that’s loved her for my whole life?
Yes. I blew my top. What does it take? What? Please tell me to combination to the lock of my Mamas heart so I can open the door and get out. She’s locked me inside her, I am an infant to her. But I am grown up and want to spend time. Time I can’t get back and don’t want to. Time my own daughter squanders at this very moment. She, Chelsie, lives on like Mama, as if she doesn’t have me as her Mama. And so the sword swings at me again. Cutting at my broken heart, again and again. Being misunderstood when I thought she, would be the one to really get it. But she’s taking what’s mine. She getting the love that I should get. I found Mama and she would t have that love without me or Angela. But she doesn’t want to share. She just took the bag and ran.
That’s how I see it from here. If she wants to show me another side? Please. Do. How can anything change if we don’t talk? How? I am not going to go another day holding this in. It’s just to upsetting. And my anxiety is really bad these days. My heart feels tight. And why go to the doctor? I know why. When will my Mama get why? And when? Will she get in her car and come to me? When? I’ve waited for her forever. Forever. Looking at each face. Looking for her car, her smell and her love.
Thanks for coming by and being a witness.