From my view point I see many things as I shed my learned truth. A truth is subjective. To the subject experiencing it. That a fact. My truth is not my Mama’s whole truth, but we do share some common truths. One, is we love each other. Two is we both are hurt by my truths that have been spilled onto this blog, due to lack of anywhere else to put them, sort them, and change them. I do feel much like a snake Victoria, thanks for pointing that out to Mama. Snake are good in the garden and do just as good a job if not better than cats….Cat lady?

The truths shared here are an illustration of the process of change and grief management. People don’t even know what grief management is? Mama and I do. Very well. You manage. You move on, you do the best you can to push through grief. And I wanted more, excuse my greed for a better relationship with my own Mama? And my A Mama, if that is even possible? I am not sure during these days of shedding the old skin, everything has changed for me.

As I watch the fall out of a nasty truth like mine and as I stand within the ranks of the ungrateful, I see many things, actions, non actions, reactions, emotions and all that go along with grief and pain. And I have learned a lot about my buddy pain. Pain is a signal, that you are off course. And I do believe as I write here and am scared to say it. That I have been called home to Mama and have not listened, due to fear.

Yep. That’s me. I am not sure she will receive me and each time I have gone to test the waters? I was met with some kind of issue, my sister calling me crazy? My Mom sitting there letting her? My other sisters? silent? Has not put the road warriors mind at any ease or given me any hope by seeing it. In fact it has taken hope from me to see such displays of selfishness as I just approach my Mama for real, and ask. For help I have needed for years and have not gotten?

Like who helped me? Who took me to a Dr.? Consistently, no one. No one wanted to deal with anything in my life growing up. So, I learned to stuff it. Mama Jean does not believe in psychiatrist, or mental health? She never gone to get help for her drinking. I am the help with the drinking, dancing a dance to make her comfortable, which does make it a bit comfortable for me? And I dare say not. More not comfortable than comfortable. And yet, this is my lot, the lot my own Mama sent me to and keeps me in by not answering my calls.

This is where Adoption put me. On a teeter tauter of pleasing to be safe and have the peace. Being a peacemaker is hard work when you dealing with addictive behaviors. And I have learned many addictive behaviors in my life growing up in the home I grew up in.

And having an alarm going off inside you is not easy to deal with either? When my only prayer is to go home. My thoughts gets in the way of progress, if now, I am unable to go home. Thoughts planted in me by Mama Jean and her world. After all I have gone through and put up with for my Mama’s sake? Yeah, her. I stayed put, she sent me there, and I believe that she could come get me. I did not put me here? And she did? I do feel it is a fair request. And yet I feel pride is at play here. Hers. Mine was gone the day she left and I have been patching what was left to stretch. And its torn. This woman I am adopted to is not proud of me unless I perform? I am not enough and she can’t deal with my Mama issues, and never has.

Why? Because who was proud of my Mama doing this to me? How do I fight with that? I do here? With my words to change your mind? But how many share my post? Everyones to worried about what people will say? OH, my? Did you post that on your page or like that? You must be ungrateful too. Boo on you. Its like truth is subjective, yes, but what about the subject going through such a truth. And there is much more. But that is for the book.

On the outside looking in on my life, it looks fine. Normal. But it is not. I am not where I know I should be. I feel it.  And I wonder if my Mama is so deaf now to her own alarm the she is sleeping right through her wake up call?

With all the crisis hotlines that go nowhere, and everyone telling people to go get help and help not being able to help? Mama, that’s always what I needed. Mama. Mothers always make it better. Just being Mother is enough. Her touch could launch a thousand ships. Her presence, like a ray of sunshine. But my Mama is broken, she’s not working anymore, because of adoption.

And thanks Adoption, for fucking my mind up so much. Thanks a lot. Its been this way for years, I just played the quiet game. The proverb does say that even a fool appears wise when he keeps his mouth shut. That would be me. Some kind of fool freak. Someone who dares to go there to learn? Someone held back from learning due to a character I played in a film my Mama cast me for. To busy to study due to studying the lines I must rehearse because they don’t come from my heart, they are forced. A behavior to obey. And do as told to do stopped me from even having time.

This is my life, I must make this home life work, school? What is that for? I don’t know what that is going to help me keep this woman loving me? She seems broken too, she’s not like my Mama at all.

Maybe some, she’s asleep at the wheel too.

She’s Unconcerned that I am hurting and in a world of her own, filled with iPads and movies to fill her mind to overflowing with content that has nothing to do with her Childs needs? Paper didn’t do a thing for me, except to be filled up with my dismay over the years. Notebook after notebook filled with my mental swirls, trying to make it stop. How do I get Mama back? How do I make her see me? How can I change this arrangement? So at long last, I can get what I really need? I mean I have fulfilled my obligations if you can even believe that? What was I obligated too? I never signed a paper or gave my footprint to show my agreement to this? But none the less, I have stayed, despite my desire to go.

And now, being at my lowest. Only asking for emotional support and a place to start again? Turned away, by my own Mama? What is this world? Who are we? What is a Christian? I thought all that bible reading would have changed my Mamas way of looking at me? NO? She views me as some kind of disease? That is what adoption did to her? Made it ok for her to believe such a thing? No ones healthy Mother would think such a thing? And so I must believe now that my Mama is ill? So I write to make this right and not left.

I am gifted beyond. And with that gifting comes a responsibility. To use my gifts. Mama Jean could care less to see me succeed. Sad to write? True. She’s much like welfare. They throw money at people and really don’t help them get up. Why would she really want Linda’s child to succeed? I am out about my feelings now. Why? Maybe she’s begging for Linda to help her now? She’s not so high and mighty now? That she knows where she went left with me and how it felt to be so squashed and controlled growing up? Its just her way, pushy and demanding her way or the highway.

I would rather be a maid in my own Mama’s house. I’d like to take a chance at being her slave now. But maybe she doesn’t need a slave? Maybe she just needs a daughter? Who’s is extremely homesick, and very misunderstood since my brains all mushy and can’t seem to ground in. Swirling swirling, all I think about is Mama. That’s how I felt growing up? Mama Jean would say do it this way ? I would think? thats not right, Mama would do it like this? No matter where I am Mama is alpha and omega. My beginning and my end.

And all Id like to see is Mama and my sisters rolling up with the movers to take me home. That is my healing place. Family all around. Mama Jean has been really mean lately and it seems she’s saying go. She keeps telling me that? She doesn’t want to look at Lindas daughter anymore. With my mask off now, I am ugly to her. Id like to paint it another color, I am an artist and artist can do fabulous work, but I want a picture with Mama in it now and not just color over what is not her.

A New Years is here. And I want Mama in it. And if Mama Jean can’t handle that? Which I think she can, she sure doesn’t seem to want me here. And I keep trying to make it work? And she goes off on David my son and Angela must regulate? Its just draining me. I feel alone. Surrounded by people who come and go as I counsel them and can not even counsel myself about my Mama and me?

I am trying to find the way home to Mama. Can anyone help me? Can God help me who has helped me, get through to my own Mama, I need her. Not some heavy need, just her presence affirms me, and who I am. Why is that so strange for me to say? I am a normal daughter who’s lived an abnormal life? I have always been her child, and just called another name for the family comfort zone sake? People want to have their own child and not get one and change the names of the ones they get. So grateful.

I still don’t know who named me? Did Mama Jean? Or did Mama? Mama Jean says she did? Mama says she did? Who did? Who am I really?

I know who I am and that doesn’t seem to be good enough these days of a reason to just go home.

Thanks for diving deep as I dig it all up.

God bless us all as we go home…

I wonder? Did my Mama ever go help the girls get home?


I am an Adapted, artist, Mother, a soul, a human, singer, writer, activist, minister and deprogrammer and reprogrammer of minds. And I am here because we need to change how you see it, a lot of things that is. For us Adoptees who have lived in the dark. We were cut off from our families. And that is sad people.

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