My help is not a pill bottle and a room to tell a stranger!

My help comes from my God and my Mama.

I refuse!! To medicate her away!!

Just like I fought as a child the medicine given for diagnoses that were not founded in the truth that my body was reacting to the transplant!

And so was my Mama! Who medicated herself still!

The ignorant doctors. All wrong. Did not even see the link to my stomach aches, digestive issues, mental disturbances caused by being out of place, and I now prove this with scientific research that back my findings from experiences lived out in real time.

I knew someday this world would catch up with me and us for that matter. The proof is always in the pudding of experiences lived. And we adoptees are that pudding filled with truths that need to be swallowed by everyone so we all can see where this idea took us.

Do we want our future generations to go through such mazes of ideas that are not even congruent with natural laws?

Adoption at its best is avoidance behavior at its worst. And family ties as strong. So the child does come back. Before death or after. We find home and family. So why? Force us to wait?

Why must death steal again from us? Our Mamas alive within us mourns her loss too.

That’s what I am saying. What are we doing here? Why?

There are other ways to handle this and we’ve become stuck.

So many adoptees now searching for home and being denied. Again. Again. It’s made hypocrites out of Adoptions claimed gains.

So many people vested in a lie. So many parents pretending to be what they will never be. While the children stand and watch. Over and over again. Like robots.

If little David can throw a rock and kill a giant?

Then this David’s Mother can throw a rock and kill a giant too. Kill a big idea with a big stone of truth that leaves a mark that reminds people to think ahead!!

Why do I dislike repeating myself?

Cuz I’ve had to repeat myself a long time. I know my truth well due to having to tell a world of idiots they got it all wrong with me.

Everything in me always wanted to go back home to Mama. I don’t give a shot what everyone told me!! That she was.

I would wait on God and prove them all wrong.

And get Mama out of the pill bottle forever.

I just see that I’m not gonna stop God at doing what God does best. Which is to stitch it back up and put everything in its place and lay it to rest. And kiss it all better. God sees. And God showed me a lot.

Observing madness. Trying to grow up through madness and hold onto my own identity that no one seemed to see but me.

Pills can’t untie a knot.

Pills can’t change anything.

Pills mask what is.

How can’t anyone get better with a pill?

Therapy succeeded because I kept learning what needed addressing that therapist could not seem to see. They can’t even keep up with all my characters!

Most of my sessions were helping my therapists too. I found I was ahead of them many times which was a nice recognition that my efforts were not lost. I was making progress and therapist kind of gave me a gadge of how I was doing.

Sounds about right because living like this is like growing up backwards. I’ve learned backwards why my Mama was key.

Pills robbed me of many affects when I was young. Many meds givin to me to calm me down left me dizzy and floating through childhood most of the time. But those affects came back after the meds wore off. So. Yeah.

What was the cause of this child’s ailments?

Perplexing it was to old Doctor Schaupp. He always swore he was gonna write a book about me. Guess I’ll just do it. He died. I kind of feel like a walking book anyway. Guess he kind of wrote a bit of this book called me and my life living like this?

The truth I tell is harsh. And it felt very harsh for me as well. To tell this story I must unpack it in layers. As writing for me is the unpacking.

Mama can’t seem to watch me face to face unpack this. It I had to drop a load and she needed to know. I figured that if we made it this fair on lies. We were both strong enough for the truth.

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