Excuse me, but…

I’d like to say, Adoption is only a success, when we go home anyway. In my book.

You can’t stop love. Why would anyone try?


Yeah. Lead some army’s or two. Joann of Arc

Thank God in today’s day and age we don’t burn people at the stake? Or do we?

Burning Joann only burned and etched into our collective consciousness an idea, that an idea can be killed? Joann and many others have died due to misinterpretation of the meaning?

Madness. It is madness to even try to kill an idea. Because the minute you (kill it)? It’s gains a life of its own. Like Jesus. And his death? He and she and whoever? These ideas still live on in our conscious minds.

My question? Why are we trying to kill anything? And why are we not trying to understand? Any and all excuses that get in the way of understanding? Must be understood before we can change anything.

Why does anyone die? Or are they killed? What is the purpose of that life and their death? I’ve searched the answers to this question myself growing up without my own Mama, asking God why it must be like this? And why does it hurt so much? And how do I tell people?

I don’t want to miss my Mom while she’s still alive anymore. I want the black card with money in my bank. I want to party like a rock star with my Mama and go get loose till they cut the lights on. Lol. You need to know lil Jon to get that one.

But trust me it’s a good thing I want for us both.

If I don’t make sense to you I apologize. It’s not for trying? It’s complicated. Is that my fault? Should I parade around and act like it’s not and act like I don’t struggle? We all struggle. And I own the struggle. That’s where I gained my strength and resolve about who I am now.

How I came to this place of solidity. Truly loving both of my Mamas. Respecting them individually for their contributions. Whether viewed as good or bad? I didn’t paint the picture. I just scrubbed what was painted on off to reveal what was still always there.

Just a girl labeled bastard yet called something else and yet still treated like a bastard anyway who never believed that for a minute. People got some strange ideas? It’s not been easy staying true to myself and dealing with all the affects this life has had on my mind, body and soul.

Please excuse me that you can’t seem to relate? Or empathize. But it’s time to change that. I had to change and my brothers and sisters had to change and now? So do you.

No turning away from who Linda Marie made and Mama Jean raised now. Leading an army of soldiers out of bondage one word at a time linked with their words forming a web to change everyone’s mind about it. Catching that idea that an idea can be killed and applying the salve to heal it. We keep killing people. And not the ideas? When will we learn? And stop? And listen.

Does it take loosing your own Mama to evolve to that level? Or can we empathize? And recognize? And learn about all ideas? Get out of our fear based heads and explore other mindsets? And know we are safe to observe and to have an affect. Change happens everyday for the better or the worse one word at a time as we glorify our own stories. Where’s the story going? How does it fit into the whole of humanity? Cuz it’s not just me or you? It’s all of us.

Joann of Arc heard voice? And we all do. The voices didn’t kill her. People did due to their own denying of their own voices? Frequency. Fear. Vibrations.

The eagles sing, “stab it with their steely knife but they just can’t kill the beast” a clue. Hotel California is this place. We can check out any time we like? And we can never leave. Everything’s recycled here on this planet that’s plain to see as we watch Mother Nature tear down and build up here and there. Destroying and trimming back?

And we think we are solely in charge? Specks? Inside those cell? That idea is Madness. And I think everyone’s waking up to that one.

Like look up. Go outside and look up and realize how small we all are? Think about the fact that we are turning 1000 miles an hour and still standing? Seemly unfazed? There’s so much everyone’s scared of. Jesus? Joann of arc. Martin Luther King Jr.? Why? I had to change at two days old? What everyone issue?

And if it’s an issue then how bout you help with the solution instead of doing the same damn thing expecting different? Having shoes is part of the experience here. Why are we tearing up shit and calling it broken and in need of a fix? Making babies is natural and beautiful. And yeah. I wanted to say that for my Mama because it seemed no one could present a compelling enough argument as to why she should keep me? Might as well be me.

It’s never to late to say and do the right thing. Never to late. Ever. And I wanted my Mama crystal clear on why she’s been given this chance. And why I have been given this chance. I’ve earned it loving her like I do in a world gone mad that infected even her to believe such a thing that I would not even care or remember her? I’m pretty sure I defy it just being me. Cuz she’s all over me.

No doubt when we are together that I am from her. And she should be happy about that. To be so admired and cared for? By someone that she’s been calling a stranger? Who’s her own flesh and blood daughter? And adoption creates this insanity? Not me? I’m tired of being brown beaten for being how I am due to a complicated story line I’ve had to manage alone with no help and lots of opinions.

I’ve taken all the advise I have taken and now use it back on you. Twist it all up and ring it all into a bowl and give you a spoon and ask you how it tastes? Like a bowl of crazy right? Who can truly keep up? Except adoptees on who all the players are?

Even adoptees get overwhelmed? And don’t call me crazy cuz voices I call God did in fact lead me back to my Mama? And my Dad? Like I know? It’s crazy I even had to search?

Blueberry Scones | “JIFFY” Mix

Blueberry Scones made with “JIFFY” Blueberry Muffin Mix.
— Read on site.jiffymix.com/blueberry-scones/

Yummy! Gonna try this tomorrow. Instead of blueberry muffin mix I am going to used just jiffy mix and frozen blueberry a with butter and sour cream. I’ll take pics and let you know how it goes. My son will be the taste tester. He’s picky. I trained all the kids to have discriminating pallets of their own.

And yet to be aware of others.

I’ve been craving scones? I think I’ll at some lemon zest in too and do the lemon glaze? Yum!!

Wish me luck.

Pre-verbal trauma, here’s my take.

At two days old? I was born after riding around with my hostess for nine months. I was a beginner. And Mama was language 101, and Mama Jean was language 102. Which means I had to figure out how and to do, translations. On my own at days old learning a whole new tribes languages. A lot for a baby’s mind to undertake without a choice to say no thank you I’d rather be called a bastard.

People wanna try to say that baby’s don’t remember a thing, still. Even though there’s research refuting such a notion. Reems of data telling about the design and nature of the mother child bonds. And.

Pre verbal trauma is a thing. And I am here to finally say, I had to learn what it was I felt when separation from Mama hit me. It was that much of a shake to my whole system. And it knocked me offline. Through me into a mental tale spin, like falling down the rabbit hole in Alice and wonderland. Thud. Small and in a strange place. Trying to make sense?

Where has everyone gone? And who are these new people to me? Now? Where is my Mama? Why is everyone telling me to be happy? Why are they so happy she left me? It’s deep like they dance on her grave. And she’s still alive!!

Pre verbal trauma told at age 56. I found the words and more.

Snap! Pop to the left side of the head like a bullet. Pain!! Panic! Fear! Frantic. Breathless. Silent. Listening. Smelling. Searching faces. Quivering. Shut down. Frozen inside. Speechless and garbled. Crying inside.

She’s gone. Why?

My daughter asked me to fix this….. and she’s asked that we all drink tea together.

Hello? Hello?

Chelsie? My daughter? Who’s also been crucified? Who loves her family roots? Yes. Complained that we could not even sit down and drink tea together. Not just me. All of us.

My Mama and my sisters have denied her this simple request. And no I will not back down. Your telling me to neglect my own daughter now? What about her need? For family tea?

Her best memories were with me, and her siblings all drinking tea at our family table. It is her highest expression of honor within our inner circle!!

She came up to plants seeds in all of you!! And she will reap her harvest as I drive her tractor. Because I’m her Mother. Your sister and daughter. I am her leader and I will not fail or shrink back when one of mine as cried out for a simple request to drink tea together.

I know her heart for it was cut from mine. Clarity. This woman is family. My children deserve their family to be there for them. And for they to be able to be there for their family. All of it. I’ve worked to hard to back down and shrink away.

My Mama wants me to fight for it!! So that’s what she’s gotten. The whole gory detailed account of growing up her child, and having the world lie to me. It didn’t change a damn thing. Just my geography.

I won’t let you down Chelsie Lynn. Don’t you give up on me either baby. You matter!!!! I’ve heard every word and action. It’s a big order evidently to get tea with my own Mother.

Don’t let what folks say about me take roots. What’s happened happened. Scares can heal when we tell the truth. We close the gap of mental separations that try to define relationships. Adoption tried to define who I am by telling me how I was to act. And it tried to define you through me before I woke up.

And I will not have you defined by anyone but you. You know that. And people have said some things about me. To you that I have not really appreciated because they don’t understand the power of their words spoken over someone and them selves? Casting spells upon themselves. Saying the same things over and over and wondering why it’s the same?

Yeah. I had to play that game. No one would listen to me. To drunk on their own ideas of me to see. The world went mad, not me. I’ve always known about Linda Marie, in me. I buried it deep within. They day I heard it from a stranger? It all came back to me. It all came floating back online. Yeah. She’s real.

She’s real and everything else is fake. Wow.