Ive lived 55 years as an adoptee. I wear the label both my Mama’s agreed I would wear. But they wanted me to not tell anyone. Does that make sense? Now, they never told me with their mouths they did not want me to tell, they showed me with their actions, or lack of actions. It is an insane world to live in with two woman that have never met, and have not read about adoption and educated themselves about what Adoptions really means, with the child’s interests at the forefront. Hell, its probably why I struggle with my own children being raised by such a mess of an idea with no rules, no form, no education for the people who will now shape the child who was relinquished life.
My kids look at me, Chelsie Lynn especially, looked at her friends, who’s Mothers kept them, and she wonder why I was not like them? HMMMM? Different family Chelsie, different way. I will never be like your friends Mother. I was forever changed the day your Gramma gave me away to the peddler on the road. Like what do you think happens?? Are you unable to see? This is what we get. If you get high enough above it, and not down in your emotions about it, you can see a lot of differences, DNA for one. And that, DNA, is huge! I am different, and Nana never considered that, she raised me like I was her own and that is just not wise. Because I am not from hers at all, I am from another, and raised by her, I am me. And I would like to say, we all need to get over that fact being written, and folks saying its hurting peoples feelings. My feelings have been hurt for years, I am just now opening up to speak about it. I had to suck it up, so do you.
If you don’t like Mama going on about it, DO SOMETHING! And maybe not run away? When you cried as a child, I picked you up and held you until you stopped and wanted down again. Return the favor girl?
I have had people push me away because they don’t understand me. I have had to live with the fact that I was ill prepared for this world, because my Mama’s were ill prepared to prepare me for what being Adopted really means, to me, away from them. Yeah, it sucks for sure. But I am not giving up like all these family members who turn away, or ignore what going on with me their own sister and our Mama. I keep working to bring it back around. It would seem, that everyone had their own ideas about what Adopting a child looks like? And now I am the party crasher? Yippee! Again. This cycle must stop.
ADOPTED CHILDREN DO NOT LOOK LIKE YOU, ACT LIKE YOU, OR THINK LIKE YOU. THIS FACT IS TRUE FOR ALL CHILDREN; BUT OVERLOOKED BY THE ADOPTION TRIAD. ACT ACCORDINGLY WHEN YOU ADOPT A CHILD!!!!
Who in the hell thought and wrote that a child is not conscious before birth? That needs to be stricken from the records. People who adopt need education about their new child. WE should be educating children about birth and children from a young age. Oh, yeah, we still have shame issues about sex? How can we teach children about a bodily functions with so much shame around it? UGH. Many have children and don’t even know what they are doing. I was not prepared for children as I would have like to be. But back in the day, and still today to some extent, we just do it and fly by the seat of our pants. Hell, government can’t even get it together to help us and that is what they are there for?
I educated myself along the way. But changing what someone teaches you is hard, changing a nature that was given to you at birth is even harder when you can’t see who you came from. I have done as well as my Mama’s let me, with he tools they gave me. And adoptions not helped me much, it just made me not make sense to anyone. Especially to my own Mama.
I am done feeling bad about talking about Mama and loving Mama. I am done with people throwing up in my face that she left me and didn’t even care about me. I guess Mama didn’t know people we talking smack about her while she was gone. I came back to tell her. She’s a Christian and would want to know, so she could help me change it. Or so I thought? I thought, surely God will show her. Surely God will open her eyes of understanding to see me?
I wonder? How are counselors supposed to help me with my Mothers? How are counselors supposed to help me make sense to my kids? When I have not met an Adopted counselor yet? Not an Adoption counselor, a counselor who is adopted. Someone who’s walked where I have walked, who gets it, and who has walked out of here, where I stand. I guess that would be me. I guess I am the answer.
That is why I blog and encourage others to blog or share their stories with me, so I can understand and work to find ways to help. I have not gotten involved with triad clubs and such because most of these clubs and organizations are formed by adoptive parents, and so the narrative is not for us, but controlled by them. They have no idea what we really think, but I do give them a hint… a taste of what is beyond our curtain of understanding that they don’t even know is there. They think they know us, but they don’t. To bad, so many people trying to make a difference for children, and no education from Adoptees to Adoptees as to how to help.
For one, Adoptees don’t really want to have to help kids of Adoptions, because most of us, didn’t even get to first base with our Adoptive parents. How can we help? I found that truth is key. And Adoptive kids get told so many untruths, white lies to make us feel better, or so they tell themselves. I would have rather had the truth, the real truth about my Mama. I would not have taken the words, she loved you so much she gave me away, and I probably would not have made up my own fairytale to survive living in my new fairytale.
I will no longer take people ridiculing me for the way I feel. I got here because of ignorance and fantasy. My life was founded on the sand of Adoption, and whatever people want to tell me, which is not a foundation at all. It is a delusion.
I am fired up. Can you blame me? Chelsie Lynn’s not here. She hates me. my kids are all divided, I feel they are ashamed of me. And it is not all my fault. My Mama’s cooked this things up. I went on what they gave me. They do not get to put me down like this. I will not be their martyr. WE all are going down, if I go down.
I am upset. And when I get upset? I write and talk to find away out of that. The world makes me sad, Adoption makes me sad, abortion makes me sad. No one protects the children. Woman treat their children conceived like their property. Some are good to their property and some, are not. It just frosts me how Mama Jean just raised me as her own, not even realizing, and taking into consideration that I was a guest, from another, that she could have her dream with.
And she treats me like nightmare. It so upsets me, that I think about leaving my whole family. I think about just disappearing. I mean why stay with this shit show? Sisters that don’t act like sisters, no fun times, no cards, no shopping together, what else do I have to talk about but this? We have made so little memories to build on. Oh, thats right, they don’t want to build a life with their own sister? Ok. Yeah.
Chelsie giving me shit about being able to drink tea together. Hell, I started that thing by serving tea to my children after school and serving snack? But Mama made me coffee the last time I was there? Reluctantly, she struggles to make a new game herself and blame me for my lack of manors? Ha! Then my big sister proceeds to come in and tear her baby sister who was orphaned at two days old, and wonders why I bitch slapped her with my words to shut her up? i have had to take care of myself big sis, that is why. I did not mean to harm you, but to wake your ass up. YOU ARE MY SISTER!! WE ARE BLOOD RELATIONS SWEETIE? HELLO! SCA QUEENY.
———————————Pick up today from yesterday———————-
I guess with all my sisters accomplishments I would have expected better; but the translation got lost I guess? Guess I need to be a member of the SCA to get proper treatment? Must I be a rotary member to obtain the rank my sister Liz? So that I may know her. Shall I start an Eco movement, to get my youngest sisters respect and attention?
Each day of my life, unknowingly I spoke my Mothers name over myself. My name was changed from Stephanie Anne, to Belinda Jean. What is a name? It is letters, that when put together and spoken send a vibration into the air, it is my vibration, Belinda Jean. And in my own name I profess who I am. I show who I came from and who I was trained by and who, I eventually have become.
To reveal who you the daughter of this triad have become is not an easy coming out party, at all. Lies, massacred as truth, and cloud a girls plain view. The past covers who you the offspring of it all have truly to show for it all. After the rubble of my collective past with my mama’s is sweep away, I.D. as in a crime scene, to be given to the Creator of us all for disposal and recycling of energies, we see, love woven in it all. As a child never let go of a song, of a essence, of a woman, and she hunted that down, to turn her around, and lay a kiss on her for God sake! She is my mama!!!
Like where you been doll? Ive missed you? Why are you so uptight??
Fleetwood Mac makes me think of Mama. Stevie Nicks in particular. I have a veg remembrance of Mama singing all the time. And the vibration of her voice soothes me in times of trial or fear. I turn the music up and feel her with me. It is a coping mechanism I invented.
Random second thought–
If people want to dog me about talking about my Mama, who’s in my name?
Excuse me Mama, but Fuck you guys! Ok! My Mama rocks hard! Goes hard! Goes long! And she never gives up. If she pushes me away? I feel it is because she wants to be sure, I am sure. That she knows what I am signing up for. Yep. I do.
I am my Mama’s child, I am ready, and I know the cost.
And FYI- Anyone that asks me to give up on her can send those words to Hell!
Cut I can’t hear you anymore!
Thanks for diving deep with me today into the ever deepening and widening consciousness of me, Belinda Jean…
God Bless you this Sunday!