I’ve been three people my whole life. A star cast for the role of a lifetime at the age of two days old. My Mama had faith in her talented bundle, to wow the masses. It was time to hit the road and begin my tour, with a whole new cast a crew.
Growing up away from Mama and the old crew taught me many things. Tolerances was one. Learning to get along with people is work. And tolerance helps when making new friends. My DNA lacked a bit of tolerance as I have noticed as of late. ✅
To tolerate does not mean to say something’s ok. And what Mama decided for me was not easy for my little person to tolerate. But my lack of tolerance didn’t come from nowhere. What Mama did to me was not what she thought she did for me. And Adoption threw me for a loop. It affected my body. Which was to young to understand what had happened to me. Mama, did not calculate that. ✅
And that’s unfortunate. But not impossible. Things get recalculated all the time. She just didn’t realize who was growing inside her was a gonna take her actions so hard. I’d love to say it didn’t affect me. I’d love to be able to act like it was all ok. But it was not ok. And I struggled. To be all that was expected of me.
In my case, I’ve been three people my whole life. Mamas baby girl, mama Jeans daughter and then, myself. And it’s time they all got together. Having to be different people to my different families is not fun. I feel like a juggler in a circus. And something just had to give. I just could no longer keep acting like Mama was ok. And that my sisters were acting ok. I couldn’t keep Pretending we were progressing.
Letters didn’t do it. Cards, gifts, visits? And after 20 years I blew my top. Excuse me. This does matter to me. We are talking here about my Mama and family. These people are part of my life. And I would like them to be a bigger part of my life. And yes. I have a temper. That’s part of the affect.
The only thing I knew to do was to just blurt it all out. And there was a lot. And pray that God would help my own Mama see. I mean either God is God or God’s just a joke, right? And if Mamas my Mama she will understand and get it eventually.
But she may be broken too. That’s what I face each day she doesn’t call me. She may be broken beyond repair. I face it. Each day. And pray for a crop failure. I pray my sisters will see me as who I really am. And that they will realize how far I’ve come to withstand such rejection from them all.
I’ve learned a lot about myself blogging this crap. I held a lot in. And I’m stronger than I thought I was. My Mama can’t hurt me anymore than she already did. I survived. And so did she. Whatever she thought I was to her she’s seen different. And all the loss in time just kept her ignorant. She struggles to understand her own daughter now. And I wonder how helpful that is?
I surely can see what God’s trying to do through me for her. But can she? Can she see the love in all this truth? I did? I looked for the love in her actions? Has she looked for the love in mine? Her truth was just as hard to take as mine was to her. And as much as would have loved to just hold it all in to save face? God would not let me. Nor would my body.
And sorting through all my thoughts about Mama really has helped me in many ways. Even if Mama thinks silences is the signal to success. No counselor has given me what blogging has given me. Which is open space to just be me now. Not Mama Jeans version. Note Mamas version. But me. No hiding anymore. Cuz I am safe. Now.