Why do people say this phrase?
Well? Your children need to learn to do things on their own. Would if you died? How would they survive? Stop doing things for then?
Like what the hell kind of programming is that shit up there? 👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆
Well sweeties? That. Is my Mama Jeans programming. Trying to force me to think about death? And not life and living and creating memories? WTH?
Anybody else parent say this shit? Hmm? Yeah? I can not believe! What people believed was good training back in my day? Lord have mercy. I’ve resisted that phrase my last time.
Death!! Hello! Why are you fucking chasing me!! Why must I face you with each and every thing I do!!
My children are alive! And I want to live my life spending time with them?! And making so many memories, good and fun mEmories!, so that I will never feel like I am gone! Attached to everything they do. Just like my Mama except with content! Not me dreaming about it coming? Or they?
So I had to clean house. Which includes all my Mama stuff. Junk. Feelings going nowhere as we can clearly see? My Mama is not sane. Or reasonable. Which is why I was adopted. That woman’s unreasonable mind. She was programmed to give me away. Probably by death.
Yeah. I kind of feel like? She wanted me dead? Maybe that is what I am sensing and smelling? Like a stinking thought would do that has not been confessed? But who know? Secrets go to the grave? Maybe Mama owes death that? I don’t truly know if she bargains with death?
Maybe she wanted to die and I got left with the remnant of death on me all my life like Eeyore. Just filling me around. Just to remind me? I could die? I can’t get attached to anything here?wth?
I’ve wonder why my Mama? Or God as they My Mama sent me to Mama Jean to teach me to obsess about death by always reminding me she could die? Sent me to be taught and tied to death? Always having to prepare people for my death so that they don’t attach to me and feel my pain of detachment for always again being told? I could die? What are you going to do? That’s really not a great thing to teach a traumatized child to do? Or is it? It’s twisted?
I’m trying to see the sense of where this predicament has sent my mind to question?
What is this statement? You could die? What will _______(fill in the blank) your kids, you, your mom, your dad? Is it good to always say this phrase? To make sure ones not caught unaware? Evidently Mama Jean does not want me caught unaware about death?
I ask myself why is she doing so? Did I react violently when I was a child? To her leaving me? To the pint of her seeing, somehow, that I was scared to loose her. And she needed to prepare me and get me out of my trauma? Like did she? And did I obsess? What else was I to do?
The pain was that bad? But she’s a 50’s lady? And my traumas in her vault with God. She ain’t even bring that shit up. It’s on lock. But I can read her actions you see? I learned how to bypass, lies, or withholding truth. Pity. Wanting to maybe save me? From myself? And not realizing she trapped me?
If that even makes sense? I’m trying to find the words to even explain it? I do see where my Mamas came from. Yet my mind can’t seem to even comprehend why? We never even say this side? It explains why Adoptees have been silent. It’s been a very crafty silencing. Very subtle.
It’s a pattern? Allowed? BY both my Mamas to be. Mama Jean tried to protect me. By training me like a dog. Maybe not really realizing this was inside? Trapped? I had a temper. I got no help with managing it and have taught myself how to manage it. Death.
You could call it neglect? Or deliberately trained to teach about facing death. In many forms. I lost Mama for a long time without even a shred of hope. Until I moved back into California and God told me. It’s time. God, my higher self, does speak to me in an audible voice now and then. A clear sentence is how it come. An epiphany. An awehah moment. In my body? I hear it inside my mind?
We all have chatter. We all talk to ourselves. That’s normal. And we need to make it well known Normal. Mental health is everything and I take my mental health seriously. That’s why most don’t even understand me?
They think about themselves all day? Like I have been? And sharing with you? Hoping? You’ll share back with me? Like what’s your take? Yuck? Did I upset you? Or trigger you? I guess I am no trigger? Except to my Mama? Great! I’m the lucky one!
My Mama wonders? Why I am so intense?
The school of death all day? And just trying to have fun? I’m dying to live. Please let me live and have fun with my Mama so help me god! And yes. I will work on my relationships with my own children even after they are grown to live and show them I have a shit to keep trying! After living such a twisted up life? I think that’s brave of me? Incredibly brave.
And I commend myself for putting up with so many people misunderstanding me and not even trying too? I still am trying to understand and mend what’s going on with my Chelsie and will to the day I die? I love her and am still trying to make her proud by showing her I won’t give up and I’ll keep working to make myself the best Mama so she can be proud of me.
I’m not proud of the way my Mamas have been acting. No sir. Nope. Not at all. And I want to understand them. I truly do. But all they talk about is nicy nice stuff all day and this and that? I’ve lived so long in the shallow end? I’m staving to go deep and be able to talk to my Moms about what I am learning and have one of them give a shit?
I give a shit. And if I have to praise myself? Well don’t call me arrogant! I don’t see any of you praising me? I sang to Mama Jean as song I love the other day In The car. And my heart swelled up with love. And I sang to her. She didn’t even say I love that! Thank you darling? Or grunt? Slap my face? Nothing. As if I did nothing. No comment?
Like really? Talk about detached? And people wonder about me? Well? What? That’s what I am saying? Two moms? Right? Twice the fun? No. No no no. Not. No way. No how. No fun. Not for you. They could die? Or I could die? And then what? What would we do? Oh my? Heavy? Yeah. Kind of dark? Yeah.
This one statement has been said to me so many times? When my Mama Jean has to have surgery? Hysterectomy. I was 11. My parents had just finalize the divorce not much before. Excellent! Death. Her death comes all dressed to the nines. And Mama Jean flipped out grieving the loss of her husband and her status? They go hand in hand back then. For real. Divorcee. Harper. VAlley pta. And. Both my Mama were hot! Still are. They both sizzle.
And she had to have her guts cut out. The doctor in town needed to pay the mortgage. And she was willing and able. Both of them did it. I’m 11. Already lost my Mama and family whoever they are? You can’t know right now Stephanie Anne Brumley, Belinda Jean Fowler. My full name back then. I just didn’t know it yet. Oh fun. She panicked. She might die. She just lost her husband. She tried stricken but maintains composure in public and drowning at night. I’m trying to do my best to be supportive while trying to be a kid and having to grow up all at once. Yippee! I love life! Challenges! What else have I had?
A Will is draw up. My Name Belinda Jean Fowler is out on everything. I am instructed about what to do. Arrangements are made. What the hello? She doesn’t die? And then drop all that and take back control. And I’m the child again never to ever forget death?
And her instruction on how to be independent while she depends on me? WTH?
Ok. Enough for tonight that was wild. My life.
I’m just grateful. To finally get it all out. Hell know it don’t make sense until I take 5 years to write it all out? In most people worlds? It’s not this complicated? So many conflictions and road blocks? Trying to make sense of why my Mama sent me here? All I seemed to do was work on getting ready for death to come and to survive? Like? When I wanted to live and thrive and leave death alone for a while and enjoy what’s in today?
My family wants me to let go? Why don’t all of you let go? Like what’s your problem? I have woken up against the odds. My voice should count for some damn thing to one of y’all? Who the hell is it?
Please. Stop with the don’t talk to me like that shit man. I’m done being quiet? How would anyone even know what I’ve been going through and struggling with? If I just suffer unsupported? My whole life?
What exactly is family for again? Like I don’t know anymore? I’ve need support my whole life? Counseling? Classes. Educating myself about my mind so I could bypass my Mamas blocking me from reaching my highest potential? Or feeling that way due to their behaviors towards me and the things said to me? That was not helpful.
And. My kids suffered for it with me working on me while raising them? No one said a thing about me being a bad mom? Or person? I knew I had a temper? And I takes crazy. These are the things told to me. I’ve had to figure out the rest? Comparison? This that? Who am I? Is it this or that? Or am I really fine? No. I don’t know anymore?
I gave up? And just went on like we gone said. It would be fine? I would be fine? Chelsie doesn’t talk to me. Is that fine? She my baby? And has cut me off. Is that fine? I’m not fine about it? What do I do? Can’t even write her? What do I say?
I just wait. Try to reason with two sides of me. She’s being healthy Belinda? She’s practicing her boundaries. It’s ok. She’ll come around. No one else says that to me? I say it to myself and I am glad I have me? At least I believe in my goals and believe I can attain them. I’ve been married three times. They said I’d never be able to kee a man? Ba ha!! I kept three. 4, 13, 12 years long. Not bad for a girl going know where. I like that song by Ashley Mcbryde.
Most people are that’s to bad? I’m like? I kept them longer than anyone said? And had babies no one thought I could have? For some god awful reason they would not tell me. And cut on me to have a looks see at my Lady parts and take my appendix out while they were at it? Strange? That didn’t make sense either? Also, happened when I was eleven. Lots of change and death avoidance and preparation?
Autistic? Comes to mind? But I’ve worked so hard to cover my issues? No one could ever get a good read on me? I seem normal? And then I don’t. I feel normal in my brain for my circumstance? My body has issues? Yes. Lack of Medical history has not helped. I’m like a mystery no one seems to want to solve?
And feel invisible. Except when I go places. And meet people I don’t know. And I get to talking to them. And they find me interesting. I challenged their brain and there are many that like interacting with me. And enjoy my company. If your a liar? You won’t. If your still unconscious? You won’t. You want to bounce and get back into your own pool of thought and not sharpen your brain with me?
Deaths child over here! 👆🤣🤣
We all might die? What a damn meditation?
It just grates on me and rubs me so. Ugh.
Especially since I lost my Mama and didn’t even get to be sad about it? And had to have a smile painted on my face? Taught to performance for the audience my Mama sold me too. My A parents paid for my birth. Thanks guys. Love ya!
We will also call them my Mamas waste management team. Yeah. Has a nice ring to it. Better take that trash out! I love this service! They pay me to take my trash!! How amazing! Easy pezzy! Snip snap!
Oh. And try sending seven of your dogs only liter to their forever homes? Yeah. Abandonment issue all day on that! But I made it with 5 in great homes. And emails given and pictures of them already sent to me. So I’m still connected. Loving homes. They know they love me because they saw it as they all licked my face while meeting their forever family’s. Thanking me for loving them and giving them all I had, even though I knew this day would come.
Another death. But I survive and they will thrive. Still connected to grannie. Community. Death taught me How to live with death and loss. There is no running from death. Death is here to say and we just have to work more on making our quality of life and living better, while armed with the truth of death so we live more fully.
Thanks guys. For diving deep with me tonite.
Whoever you are. Do the work. Xoxo