Yes. I’ve had my losses

Everyone’s had losses. How do we know what a gain is if not knowing what a loss is? Loss is a part of life and expressing loss is part of adapting after loss to find the gain.

I’ve shared my losses here, so I could find the gain. I’ve found many gains. And the biggest gain has been the fact that no matter what life throws at me, I may be knocked down, but I always get back up and go again. And that’s a key to success. Keep going. Keep getting back up.

The latest thing I’ve learned is rest after a loss. I’ve learned that self-care is not pouting or pity. Self-care is to take time to heal from something. And that takes rest and mental reframing of the events to get beyond the feelings from the experiences. It’s tales prayer and someone to witness and listen genuinely to you, without pay, to truly process a loss and find the gain.

I look at the world today. And I take it in. And I see from my own experiences that self care was a choice I modeled to my children by taking care of myself so I could take care of them. I’ve need this much time to process such a loss as a Mama. And I am allowing myself to express the immense volumes of emotions from what I went through to live with such grief and to have to wait so long to express it?

Ugh. No one should be there. And yet while I have gone through my life journey and have found fresh mana to aid me along my way, in finding my feelings and validating them with words to help the world understand where unprocessed loss takes a child who’s grown into a woman.

I validate myself here for finding that way. I validate myself for being so brave. I validate myself for being who I want to see on this planet. Someone who’s a damn rock. Who can sink to the depth with you in your despair, and ground you back into yourself, and then float you to the surface for air, or if needed, sling you through the air to get you to the nest step. I am her.

And I really thought my own Mama would think I was cool as hell? Cuz I am cool as hell and I owe a lot of that to her DNA. And I give the devil his due. Even if the devil was my own Mama, I looked beyond the costume and say the angel.

People may wonder. This is why.

Having a Virgo for a Mama can be quite difficult. Just because I was raised by a Cancerian, does not mean I am all emotions. My Mama that I came from had a huge, huge impact on who I am.

All of the attributes of Virgo, are within me. And I am happy for that and really would like more of that. Like, I see how valuable my Mama is to my own growth and identity. That’s why I am giving my Mama the download. She needs to know exactly where I am coming from so she can see where I want us to go.

Trust is what I am working on. And also, getting my Mama over what she thought about it all. I kind of went there with my Virgo Mama. I have gone into her nightmare about me. Evidently, it’s mostly about my Dad? Lovely. I just love a bad reputation with my own Mama that was caused by my Dad in me.

Like what am I supposed to do? Just cut my father out of me? Can’t go there? But, my Mama can help me deal with these issue? Well, if she can ever see the use in doing so?

Who would not want their Mamas wisdom? And who would really want their own Mama to hold in her feelings from days gone by and let them block what can be? Being an earth sign myself? I feel deeply connected to my Virgo Mama, even though we don’t spend a lot of time together, when I met her it was clear how much of an impact she made on me.

Who would not want to get back to that kind of person? I get it. She’s just not sure? She’s not sure she can trust me. I’m like what’s not to trust? And if I am off? Well then tell me. Like 55 year without someone can cause some havoc. If Mama see something that need to be dealt with? Let do it! I am all in.

Being a Capricorn means, I am no slouch to work. I have a good work ethic and don’t back down when a job needs to be done. Emotions are not my Mamas strong suit. They are not mine either. That’s why I am showing Mama that it’s ok to express her emotions. Even if she doesn’t like doing that? That it is practical and useful to do it anyway. And that in the end balance will be restored.

My Mama doesn’t really know much about astrology and so that makes it difficult, but not unattainable. Because with God, all things are possible. Coming home after growing up in a home without open prayer, well, that’s a challenge that I am willing to overcome.

My Mama needs to accept the affect and lack of affect in my life. She need to see the affect on me of not having her to guide me, and see the affect of now being able to guide me. I am a handful. This is true. But I know she can handle me. She’s just got to see the use.

I didn’t see the use of finding her. Like, ok God. But why? But God showed me the use on the journey back to my roots. And this journey has had troubles. I’m in trouble now? I mean my Mamas not talking to me? To me? That’s trouble. There’s no lack of communication on my end? And there is on hers. It’s kind of hard to gain your true batting’s without proper feedback. I’ve only gotten a little feedback and I’ve had to navigate with only, snippets and crumbs to be able to address the issues in my families lack of healthy dynamic.

My family feels their are just fine. They see no need to learn about a woman they are tied to by blood? Seems so strange to me? I mean our Mama sent me to love a stranger? Right? Yes, she did. And yet my sisters don’t even know how to love their sister now strange? Seems odd? The shoe is on the other foot now I must teach the lessons I’ve learned living like our Mama wanted me too?

I am a teacher by nature. So, I go at it for the long haul. And I work for excellent results. So I go deep with those I teach. My family is no different to me except that I kind of expect them to rise, because as their sister I had to rise. As the sister who was removed and yet still deeply connected, I am reaching my family how to love a stranger whom they are connected. It’s way easier than what I had to do with My Adopted family. I had to work with my Adopted family.

Blood makes it easier to bond. It’s naturals. But bonding to someone you did not come from is difficult, but possible. It takes way more work than a natural bond does. You have to be commuted and stick with it. You have to explain yourself so they see how different you are. You have to stand your ground for yourself, because natures blood doesn’t connect you. You must go higher. You need God to do that kind of work.

And I believed my Mama would want me to go as far as I could and I have. But there is one place Mama Jean can’t seem to go. And yet the doors always open. It’s the room where the love for my Mama lives that fuels my existence. And God loves in that room with my love for Mama, cuz God’s the fuel for that kind of love. And I share it with everyone! My love for my Mama goes to everyone. It’s kind of cool.

She’s an amazing woman who’s blood runs through my veins. And yet I struggle to rebound with in life? It’s soooo complicated and yet simple. Reconnecting your Mama with the woman you came from within her is tough. She’s forgotten her? She doesn’t like her? But I do. I like her a lot. And most of my friends do too. They call on Mama all the time and I share her love with them and they feel better. Why would I not want to share her own love back to her?

This love is tough. Many have wanted me to give up on it? She’s my inner muse. She’s creative and funny. She’s witty and wild. She’s sensual and sexy and reverend and holy all at ones! She’s fiery and cold. She’s patient and bold. She’s prayerful and mindful. And a real quick study. She can change on a quarter because a dimes to cheap! She’s smart and kind and loving beyond all my wildest dreams.

The world told me different, I know my Mama within. She’s a class act. And she keeps my father in me in check! Trust that! It’s him in me that shows me when to leave a man! It’s him in me that shows me what men try to hide from woman. That causes lies and deceit. Where honesty should be. I’ve got wisdom from my father within and I use it to protect myself as best I can. Not knowing who you came from is hard. You really don’t know why you are as you are? Until you go home?

This journey home has been rough. It’s felt like Trying to enter the earths atmosphere with nothing but a tank top and shorts! But I trust my Mama implicitly and that she’s comIng up to speed with me. I’m not who she thought I was, not who she remembered herself to be? But she’s seeing herself her as I babble on down memory lane and put out those fires from days gone by. She’s seeing the light. No doubt.

Funny? Woman give birth all the time? It’s so natural. Normal? Look at all this writing? All this information? No one planned for this? No one even thought I might not agree? I don’t hate anyone. I just want people to see what is and was for me? Like doesn’t my life matter,? And why can’t we look at this and learn to do better by kids coming into this world?

No medical history?

No birth certificate?

No heritage history?

No behavioral history?

No mental history?

What is this world without history? Without history we learn no lessons? Without history who is anyone?

Thanks for diving deep with me to day

God bless ya

The Eyes Of An Adoptee

The Eyes Of An Adoptee

Aerial K. ~25~ Adoptee ~Advocate of Adoptee voices and the Adoption Triad.~


Plot Twist: An Adoptee’s Perspective

I learned that my birth mother didn’t abandon me, my twin brother, my older sister or her niece and nephews her sister P. did. My late Aunt P. ( I didn’t get a chance to meet her) left all five of us with a lady that was a drunk. The story goes my birth mother came into social services raising all types of hell to get us back. However she was deemed unfit because of a variety of things.

When I was younger… before I found out I was adopted I always thought that my adoption was a mistake. Like “ This was not suppose to happen” or “ Something must have went terribly wrong.”  This new piece of information kind of stopped me in my tracks. I never blamed my birth mother for anything but I the feelings of loss, grief and abandonment are heavy burdens that I carry. I immediately felt like I need to take a step back from what I “ thought I knew” and “ what I do know” and really focus on getting the story straight and finding out who my biological father actually is.

People ask me : “ Why do you want to know? That is in the past.” I give these people the benefit of the doubt,  They don’t know. They wouldn’t understand and they probably would not even try. Do you want to know why I want to know? Because  I deserve to know! I have the right to know! I am surrounded by biological family so somebody is gonna tell me something!!

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The right to process. A friend tweeted and I support her.

The Right to Process

December 31, 2017

The right to feel is inherent. The right to feel how you feel and use your own terms to state it is a given. Unless you’re adopted, of course.

If you’re adopted, all involved parties are aggressively eager to inform you of how you feel, when you feel it, and how you’re allowed to say it, all the while diminishing the reality of your feelings by interjecting the comparative importance of their own.

For instance. The adopter. “I love you! I’m bonded with you! You love me too! You’re bonded to me too! You’re grateful for the better life I’m providing for you! Look how nice your things are! Could your horrible junkie parents give you such nice things?”

In the meantime the Adoptee is wearing her nice clothes and wetting her nice bed because of the nightmares, and by eight years old is already wondering what it’s like to be dead.

I could give you examples of how relinquishers, gentle adopters, industry flunkies, and even our own fellow Adoptees, those who claim the mantle of “happy” and “grateful”, try to reprogram us into the shell they want us in. “Use the words that make US comfortable. Have the feelings WE are comfortable with you having. And NEVER FORGET that kept children have problems too, relinquisher pain is more intense and debilitating than adoptee pain, and #NOTALL.” If you forget any of these “facts”, you will be brusquely corrected (and that is putting it mildly).

The fact is, the only opinions adoptees are allowed to have are everyone else’s. If we don’t condone adoption we’re crazy and uneducated. If we don’t sympathize with relinquishers we’re mean, angry, cruel, and like to “torment broken mothers”. If we don’t agree with “happy” cribmates that adoption is wonderful and saved us, we “just had a bad experience”. Very rarely are enlightened adoptee perspectives lifted up and listened to the way “happy” adoptee perspectives are.

Very seldomly is our pain able to be recognized and validated. Very seldomly is our healing process able to be respected. This generally only happens in private rooms and little “safe zones” we carve out for ourselves, and even then we aren’t safe. We will still be betrayed by cribmates panting for relinquisher approval. Little dark rooms, whispering behind our hands, keeping our pain small and silent so it doesn’t get us brutally attacked and reviled by the ones whose opinions we are supposed to bear. The ones whose feelings we are supposed to feel… The ones who ACTUALLY COUNT. The adopters. The relinquishers. The “happy” adoptees.

I’m not allowed to feel how I feel. I’m definitely not allowed to talk about it. I’m not supposed to use the words I choose to describe my feelings. Because my feelings, and the words I use to describe them, make others angry and uncomfortable. I’m not allowed to heal how I need to heal. I am supposed to subscribe to the prescribed methods of the interested parties. If I heal my own way, if I use my own words, they might have to consider. If I tell the truth, it might expose a lie.

It’s too hard to look at, my truth. My truth SUCKS. Too bad. You have to look at it anyway. I can’t live the comfortable lie. Why should the perpetrators of adoption sit in their self-appointed seats of superiority and dictate to a victim of their crimes how, when, where, and what we’re allowed to feel, what we’re allowed to say about it, and how we’re supposed to be so kind and compassionate toward them through it all.

Frankly, how dare you even try to suppose how I should feel? The legs of the so-called “triad” that stand on the backs of adoptees know what life is like without adoption in it. They DON’T know what it’s like to lose your entire world and have it replaced with a fake one. Before you can talk. Before your modes of communication can be properly translated. How dare they suppose to have a single bloody clue what it’s like to grow up with a stranger for a mother?

You don’t get to tell us ANYTHING.


Sit down. Shut up. Let me process my shit hole of a life my way. (A shit hole it would not be, might I add, if I had not been relinquished and adopted.)