It’s 2 Am, and yep, I am up thinking about my Mama…

It’s 2 AM, April 22nd, and yep, I am up thinking about my Mama. Not such a strange thing, a lot of people think about their Mamas. But not like I do. I was laying here wondering again, like I have for years. Why? Why not? What can I do? What will make the difference to Mama? Why is she such a hard sell? I really am not selling anything at all? All I have is love, trapped within my bones, that is trying to find its way back home to her door? Why is it so bad for me to be upset at her for not seeing me?

I wonder what my 25 year old Mama was thinking?

What was going through her mind at the time I came along?

I wonder, what is in that mind of hers that keeps her away from me?

I know she’s got some kind of grudge. She see’s anger in me

And I know its her reflection staring back at her from me about it all that she can’t seem to identify. I came back to love her too. But when I got home, there was a mess in her mind that needed cleaning up, and in mine too.

It is like my life is such a mystery for me, and each day I look for clues as to why my life ended up like this. There are so many variables I solve for. X is only one. WE have Y and Z still waiting for solving, and I pray for God to illuminate to me what I know is here within reach.

It’s like living your life like being some mystery character to the play of your own life. Your play has been rewritten, it’s about you, but where you come from is marked out, in black pen. But if you hold it up to the light, you can see a bit of what is written. It feels like vibrations of another time, voices from a past that haunts you, yet, it takes great strength to listen and learn from the past, as she is silent. What does all this mean? I pray.

I know God is up, and I type it all here. These days, the words just come gushing out of me, spewed onto this page. And I wonder, what are we doing Lord? How did I get so full of this? Am I some kind of trash can from my Mama’s past? I can’t seem to dump myself fast enough, and Mama thinks I smell bad. Am I some kind of oracle of her past life that may have some kind of treasure within me that Mama threw out without finding? I feel like her souls is calling to mine and sucking all this poison out. I pray I am right.

And yet, there is Mama Jean. And she does not get the Linda in me anymore than Linda gets the Linda in me. Its so surreal, being me. Like, my sisters don’t get me, hell, I don’t get me most days, and it does get tiresome. So many hole in the story, missing pieces, wrong facts, that now are exposed as fables made up, to fill in what was gone and now have fallin like sand from the broken hour glass of my mind. I wonder, pray, is there a way back? Lord the storm is raging and I can’t see, guide me with my heart. This ships sailing the rough sea between worlds. Guide me to Mama’s light? Help me avoid the rocks.

“Lord”, I pray, “I have come so far”. Please help me now. One more good push, and Mama will cave. Maybe? She still has that free will card of hers. Will she use it for us both this time instead of just herself? Lord, I pray for her to do the right thing and help me fill in the rest. I am so close. Living life with so many things missing is for me, very disconcerting.

I can see why it is. I am much like Mama when it comes to inventory control. And many things in my past are gone, or buried, alive within me. And I have to dig, and dig, to get them to come back up to tell me from within, cuz when you grow up and can’t ask Mama? Well, its just frustrating life math. I many times thought to myself, “what’s the use.” Being Adopted really took the wind out of my sails.

I had a chunk of thought as my mind swirled yesterday, its like my mind is swirling around like some computer computing, as brains do. And it hit me, like a chunk of coal. Because I have wonder about why it took me so long to open up and scream help to Mama? Being relinquished took the wind out of me. You know when a baby hurts themselves? Like they get their finger slammed in something? And for a minute or two they say nothing. It’s like it hurts so bad that it takes the breath away for a minute, for me it took 50’s years for the wind to come back. But when it does, its so loud and so intense, that you stop and run to the child, because you know this was a bad boo boo. When the wind gets back it is like blood curdling screams, and tears. But for me, Mama’s can’t seem to hear me, her ears are deaf to my cry, now. She gone numb. Great.

That is kind of what happened to me. My reaction has taken this long to process and get my wind back to speak of. But when it was time, and the wind was back? Well, you read it here first. My reaction was real. Mama can hate me if she wants. But she dealt that blow, and made me scream. It’s just now, I have words to add to the scream. Words of understanding for her to listen to. So she can learn what kind of a pupknot her free will smack left on me, her girl. Its like a Harry Potter scare to the heart. No one see’s it, unitl you open your mouth and your words garbled from lack of care and information that is correct come spilling out without sounding complete. It’s a stammer and a stuttering of crammed down feelings, covered over with lies and incomplete information. “What a mess,” I think in my head, daily.

I know she’s angry at the results. She confused too. Nothings adding up these days, but I am giving her the variable to her equation so she can add it up to see. I was not the problem. I am the blessing in this storm.

It’s hard knowing your Mama thinks you’re a curse. And it’s even harder to hear when she confesses she felt like that about you. But I took it. And I know I am the one who can make it better, if she will just let me. I mean, that is one reason I came home, to make it better. But when you get home and face all that is your past with a woman who’s supposed to be your life long friend and find a mess, you see, you have much work to do dismantling it. Adoption did me the favor of time to figure out a way. Thanks, I shouldn’t have had too.

I wonder. Again. I am releived to have all this out. And as I write with the fever of a woman on fire. More clarity comes. But not enough, Lord, “what is this thorn in my side?”,”Why can’t mama see?”,”Why does she do nothing?”,”What are the magic words to break this spell on her?” The truth does not seem to phase her, she’s like some kind of armadillo to it all? What is her secret to being able to live with such a decision? How in the hell can she keep going on like this? Surely she see’s I am serious? Surely she can see I need her in my life still? Oh, mind, I know your trying to help, but its almost 4 am, give it a rest. Thanks, for trying. I love you brain, I know you care. I appreciate you, even though.

Who is this woman I came from? What has she become? Why is she so disconnected from herself in me? Why can’t she seem to see the blessing of me? Ugh. My hand is going numb, and I can’t feel the keyboard as I type. I just love getting older, and your body is showing signs of wear and tear. MY nerves have been shot my whole life. Now, my body agrees.

This part of the journey is lonely. Not many Adoptees are speaking up. Its the calm before this storm that is brewing. And I pray for us all the have courage to speak the truth we know. I pray we all realize the responsibility we have to report what we all have to say. I pray we all will confess what we know needs confessing, so children all around the world can be safer for our telling the tales of being raised by strangers because the world agreed with our mama’s fears and let her give us away.

AAAAH! These questions keep coming! My mind. When, will it all turn off? I have wondered that for years. It’s like some question and answer program that just keeps coming back on again and again, demanding answers to the questions inside me. Over and over, my inner child comes to me, wanting the answers. “I am trying”, I tell her. “I am working as hard as I can to get her to see sweetie”, I tell my inner girl who’s waited so long for these answers. She’s not impressed with my work. She’s just tired and wants Mama.

I mean its like this. If I have to live without Mama, the worlds gonna have to deal with me not being ok with that outcome. I don’t know if I will ever be ok without Mama. But, if Mama doesn’t want me back? I will have to, you can read how I do it here. I feel like most of us want to know how to get there, where ever there is?

But I am standing strong as I can. I am shining my light so she can see the way. I am holding space for her in my heart to come. I have an umbrella and galoshes, some hot Cocoa and marshmallows. Its cold out here waiting. But i have so much warmth, at my hearth, home to warm us both. And I don’t back down. I am trying to be a lighthouse for her to come in out of this storm she thinks I am causing, until she realizes she started this storm called me. The day, she gave me away.

I feel the father of the prodigal son and my son is my Mama. I stand at the road to my house waiting for her to return to me. I wait, with the fatted calf, and the robe and ring, so we can celebrate at last. The weather is gone sour these days, but rain is needed, and the wind will blow away what needs to go. “Help me Lord, be patient with Mama”. Ive come so far to go back now.

Thanks for diving deep within the mind of me today. Early.

God Bless


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