People will say what they will… but.

People will say what they will about me, Mama Jean, and Mama. People say a lot about what Adoption really means to them behind closed door and around children they believe don’t hear or understands what they are saying. I was that child who heard it all.

I was so starving for the truth I listened to everyone truth. It was like I soaked it all up. As I look at this blog, I imagine that the truths I heard from other, has shed some light on the truth underneath all we say to save face. I can also see that my truth has had a very deep affect on the woman I came from. And I was so used to it all, her shock opened my eyes to what I had been through.

This blog is not a wallowing. But a sorting out, a throwing out, and cleaning out of all I took in as I journeyed for my truth. Growing up we believe and accept what is told to us. In our teen years and beyond we tear what was taught and adjust as needed. We test and prove or disprove what has been told to us. Some of its crap. And we keep what really works.

I feel what we say about ourselves is key. What is our inner dialogue? Mine was so toxic as you can read? You can see why it’s taken me so long to truly come out with such words, and ideas and on and on. Garbage.

What’s real is my quest. Is Mama really a mean woman? Is she hateful? Am I? What’s really going on here? Why is it so hard to talk to your own Mama? Why does she block me? What am I saying that cause her grief? If I don’t know? How can I be more aware? We’ve been apart a long time. And I’ve been poking around to see where the issues are.

I’ve seen a lot of reactions. And I’m pretty good at guessing. But I really would like to practice speaking and work it out through communication that focuses on working it out. Where we let go and stop holding onto our own way. I want to learn your way again. And for you to learn mine.

I feel I am an exceptional daughter who works for the highest good of Both Mothers. I wish for my ancestry to be honored, all parts that are part of me. Mama Jean and Mama are my whole ancestry. Dad Elmer, and Dad Huey are my whole heritage now. I feel it is a great honor I extent to my Mama to be a whole part of that, because she is a part of that.

I am willing to go on without this wish. But I don’t want to.

So. Say what you will. I seek the silver lining here. Beyond the cloud.

Thanks for diving deep with me today.

God bless.

I was born this way. For sure.

Being an adopted child is much like being a diplomat from another country, who’s been sent to bring joy and peace between clans. To work to h it them. What other outcome would you see? Unity from separation and exile.

The process of becoming a diplomat is to pump people. We call it massage, by at times it’s a pumping of info. My body takes in a lot of stimuli. So when I pump someone it means, ok, I’ll go there with you. Not to duke it out? But to hold the hand of the one on the journey that has looked at me, and who I have looked into and seen what they desire most by actions and deeds. My Mamas eyes, I saw fear, regret, guilt, denial, anger, and anxiety, and love. All mixed in those eyes. Each of them I saw this.

What Child wants to go into her Mamas. Nightmare? Anyone? Can I see a show of hands? No. I thought so. But with Adoption the way it is and seeing beyond that at what is underneath. What is under all that? What’s beyond my Mamas wildest nightmare? But someone got to go there with these woman. And that’s me. The one stuck in the middle of two amazing woman who have never meet here. They met through me. Their ambassador.

And I am different. That’s for sure. But there’s intelligence in my madness. Art is a process. And our canvas just got burned and thrown out. No more painting over it. We are the art. We are the canvas on which God paints our master piece life.

And God call us all to do some crazy things for him and her. And this ideas crazy for sure. But it can be done. Unity is possible. I have debriefed my Mothers if each other’s ways. Mama Jeans a bit ahead of Mama. She knows me. So she knows Mama too. Mamas got to learn Mama Jean and let go of their past and lay it to rest with dignity and grace.

Mama Jean is an alley now. She has passed the test of loyalty to be honored in this way. She has been loyal to me. Even if she did not understand me. She supports me as best she could. But if. Both Moms were joined? They could really support me and I feel it would spill out to the whole family. Like I’m just speaking up? Anyone else could have done the same? But they didn’t?

I feel I was born like this for this very reason. To go home and bring Mama Jean with me. And to bring the love she gave me back to where I came from. We must cling to the silver lining here. Mothers help Mothers who help their children. Plain and simple. Unity.

Thanks for diving deep with me

God bless

Lady Gaga

Lady Gaga inspires me. The energy she channels has transformative power to touch the parts of us that we hide for fear of rejection. She calls those who feel they are odd fellows to the halls, or the edge of glory. She marches to the new beat. And she teaches us the dance so brilliantly.

As I watched this video I was so touched by her candor. Her essence is so pure. Her motive is to express and to have an affect for the highest good for all. She reaches into the mind and programs and deprograms. She embellishes the mind centers in this world.

I am simply enchanted by her. I wish to meet her one day and thank her personally for the light she is in this world. A glowing song bird who’s melodies change our ways and teach us new ways to see the world we live in and those we share our lives with. She is impeccable.

  • Her body is exquisite, a machine. But it is the spirit that draws you in for a closer look. As she sings her lullabies to you. You don’t fall asleep. You wake up.
  • Her words come from consciousness. And she travails and laborers over their birth. They are her children in musical form. And she unleashed them.
  • Her essence is Mother Earth, mixed with Father God. She embodies them both equally.

As an Adoptee, that is a woman, who still has her dreams. lady G touches that place in me that still burns to just do it. I sing. And I feel it is a blessing that I need to share. A song wishes to be born from me. And I want to share it. I pray my song will be received.

Thanks for diving deep.

Watch the video below. Let her inspire you.

I love how supportive her Mom is about her process. Props for Mom!! Way to go unit leader and adviser!! We need more Mama like you! Thanks you Lady G for sharing Mama with us. She Rocks.

yeah. I’m switching gears. Get ready.

This is why I write here. For her and those like her. I felt like her.

Dear Adoption, I’m Insignificant

I do not know why people go through so much trouble to adopt and then forsake their adopted children.

If you look at me you won’t see anything significant. I am a normal mom that works a normal job. I am not pretty or ugly or fat or skinny. My hair isn’t really brown or blonde. It is a non color. My eyes are just eyes. They do not sparkle.

I was insignificant as a child too. I was left at the hospital by my mother at birth. I lived in a group home until I was 5 years old and those are my only happy memories from childhood even though I had no parents. I lived in two foster homes after that but one was only for a night or two. The second family adopted me a few years later.

I remember how much paper work and house cleaning they had to do so the adoption could go through. I remember all the complaining about how much trouble this was for a “kid nobody wanted” and hearing my adoptive parents say “they should just be thanking us”.

I was insignificant.

Once I was adopted everyone was so relieved to have the whole thing over.

Life went on and there was no more house cleaning besides my chores. I covered my ears when they screamed at each other and at me. I hid my bruises from my teachers and my friends. I hid loneliness, scars, worry and fear. I hid my curiosity over why they adopted me. It is really hard to understand why people do this and then don’t act like a family should.

I did not feel accepted or loved. My insignificance never wore off. I felt safe because I knew I had a place to live but I wasn’t safe except for the roof over my head. I was hurt in my home by the people who adopted me and the ones who were supposed to keep me safe.

Who should I blame? I know life is luck or no luck. I guess I didn’t have any luck on my side.

Adoption, you have hurt me. People always try to tell me who to blame but I think that when you are the person who was hurt you get to decide and I blame you.

Please do not be mad at me for blaming you because I cannot take anymore anger pointed at me. You can take it because you are just a thing. I am a person even though I am insignificant.

This piece was submitted anonymously by a domestic adoptee in the US.

Categories: Domestic Adoptee

Tags: Adopted, Adoptee, Adoptee Movement, Adoption, Adoptive Family, Adoptive Parents, Child Abuse, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Dear Adoption, Family, Foster Care, Loss

What’s so telling is how many likes my blog posts have gotten.

What’s so telling is how many likes my blog posts have gotten. Not many considering that my subject matter runs most off at the get go. And that’s what I illustrate by telling my story, no one wants to even read the whole thing, it’s so pain filled and disturbing. And that’s just perfect. Because it shows me back, how hard this life was for me.

My experiences is like being raped as a child and experiencing how adults treated me when I tried to speak about my feelings, about my Mama. No one wanted to look at my heart and what was ailing it. No one wanted to look at what was done to me. Like rape, no one wanted, and continues to not want to look me in the face and see what was done to me.

The people who like my post, like because I hit a point that this blog is helping me dial into. Pain. So heavy. So disturbing and disruptive that it caused me to be disturbed enough to write about it. Remember the days when you didn’t like something and you wrote the company to complain? And remember when they did something about it? Yeah. That’s me. Writing to My Mama to tell her what she has feared all along, that she hurt us.

And hurt must be recognized to be healed. God can not heal us if we are unable to bow and ask for help. I am allowing God to use me to speak to Mamas all over the planet. I allow God yo send me the pain of my brothers and sisters, and I pray for the words that will change this worlds thinking about us, the children of adoption. We need you. We need our Mamas. We need our heritage to ground into this world and you took it and hid it from us, while YOU have yours!!

What kind of humanity is that? This is a slight on Adoptees. Would you like me to take your certificate of birth from you? And would you like me to change your name, physical place of residence? I wonder if anyone reading this that’s not adopted can even fathom what that feels like? Or does anyone even try to walk in our shoes that are way to small. Way small and confining.

Adoption excludes many people that are so important to a Child’s development. A child’s right is to have access to all biological parents. And yet? This standard is not even practiced. It’s like a book to the Bible no one reads, because it’s not what they want, and yet they need. Adoption is an energy of exclusivity. It’s like amputation of the family. It’s a hard blow to the language center of our brains. It’s hard to navigate.

What else can I say to change your mind? I’ve shown you what I went through. My Mama Blocked me. That’s proof enough to show, Adoption a racket. Adoptions a fair weather friend in the end, when baby come Home.

Because, Adoptions an illusion that makes you feel like your fresh and clean and yet is poisoning our way of life by crippling children because Adoption separates us from our unit. And the natural design is for child and Mother to stay together. Death is our only escape. The proof is that I came home. And sent Adoption packing. I am still my Mamas child, but raised by another, I now call Mom and feel a kinship with her. I did that. Yes. I built that relationship with her. Just like I work with my own Mama yo have.

Thanks for diving deep with me.

God bless.

The winds of adversity…

The winds of adversity have blown through my life. Like all wind storms they have a beginning and an end. God has blown on me like a fierce wind storm. Gods spirit has blown through my being and has cast all my cares to the winds of change. I am reborn. I am new. This is my testament.

This blog shows you, in raw,scrabbled details. Like a soldier radioing ahead or behind. The bombs crashed as I tried to make sense. Taking with me only what Mama gave me. Wadding in the deep waters of sorrow, I swam. I never lost sit or who’s I was, and who I came from, and through, and to whom I was sent.

To tell my tale is to be real. To tell how it felt is to write as I go back and relive it before you. As I allow my inner child to babble what she swallowed, just as she experienced it. It’s was raw, and real, and yet no words to describe. It took me years to find those words that would pack the punch of what I felt and what my children felt, and what my Mothers felt. And that my whole family feels. And yet knows not what to do? Except block and the like.

And I’ve got the recipe. It’s right here, it’s all of us. See, life kind of stinks like this. And everyone’s trying to figure out where the smells coming from. The smell is the old elephant in the room that’s rotting, like our lives from living this old way. It’s time for change.

What’s that look like? I hate this.

Well, this is what it looks like to me.

Communication. Real and honest.

Maybe we cry. And let it all out.

Maybe we cook and drink. And cry some more. And hug. A lot.

Cards and letters of love in the mail to each other.

Bonfires and marshmallow roasts. I’m a lot like Mama that way.

Camping. Laughing. Making memories in this shit pile, so we can grow a new garden!

Baking. Holidays. Enjoying each other. Fighting. At long last. With your sister. Who fights fair.

Sharing. Praying. Reading scriptures to Mama on Christmas.

And loving Mama Jean like family. Because she is. I will stake my life on it.

Because she did on mine.

I wave my wand of magic. I pray a prayer. I have faith. I believe in miracles. I believe in a God who love me as I am and wants our highest good. And I jump for the brass ring.

Which for me is;

Two Mamas that rock. Equally. And yet differently.

We all suck from time to time. But what really sucks is when we don’t change.

This is how I do it.

If I don’t like it. I change it. I do the work to make it happen. I talk about the hard stuff. I work to bring change. I keep going. Till it’s done. Till people can see what I see. On the horizon.

Out new ship has come in.

Thanks for diving deep with me.

God bless

I love you Mama’s.