Are we all so desensitized?

Have we all taken the pill? And forgotten how much a Mama means to this planet called Mother?

Well. Not this Linda. My name got changed. And in my new name that I am called now is my Mama’s name tucked right behind BE. Followed by Jean.

Has the world grown so cold? That a mother carries no worth to anyone anymore? I’ve cared for two Mamas and when I finally get brave enough to tell the truth my own Mama? Rejects me instead of seeing what’s been done to me?

When does anyone ever get over the loss of their own Mama? Tell me when? There’s no research to back that idea up at all and all kind of research that back up that we just don’t get over it. Always longing for her is more like how it really is.

Even my Facebook feed shows my friends posting about missing their Mamas. Yet then there’s me. Still waiting for that sign.

Then I go to her and now she’s the one who wants my children and not me. How is this possible? And how does this get changed? How does a daughter help her Mama see without the truth to set us both free to see that Gods not finished with us both.

Am I to just drive up and camp on her door? Do I just blow away? Like what? You tell me? Please.

While the world reads my truth and watches to see what this truth will bring? While adoptees all over the planet come to see about what’s up with me and Mama? Will Mama and I show them what’s what and who God is?

Is it better to dump that shit here so I can go home clean or should I just stay dirty? Lonely and without her? Face to see?

Verbal abuse is real and happened to me. People trying to keep me from who god sent me to first and who could not see my Mama in me.

https://www.verywellmind.com/how-to-recognize-verbal-abuse-bullying-4154087

The only way to change is to get yourself around people who are not abusive. For me? That’s Mama. Mama is the only one who can fix me. And Chelsie the proof in that pudding. It’s never to late to change and ask for what you want.

I know my own Mama has what I need. And all the tea in China can’t change that.

It’s seems that even my own Mama is desensitized to her own power over me? Given up on her own seed? So many degrees of separations between, the me I wish to be.

And that’s not pathetic. It’s just my truth. Why is that a bad thing? Oh? My age? Not in this case. This dogs got some tricks up her sleeve. For only Mama to see. And that woman got some tricks to teach me.

Being constantly corrected h strangers who don’t know my gifts and can’t seem to see the me that wants to be is abusive. Adoption felt like a ball and chain prison term that seems to never end. Like a time out from hell. And the devil is your warden keeping you from the one God sent you to love seem cruel indeed a sentence for me.

I’m just saying it over and over like water on a seed. Let the sun light of my truth make those seed grow so Mama can see the sunflower that is me looking at her above the crowd of people who don’t seem to respect a Mama like me.

One visit. We were talking in the kitchen. And I swore. Mama told me to be quiet and seemed shocked that I did. She couldn’t see I wanted her to dress me down so I could dress back up as myself? That I needed her to set me straight after living in a world of lies. I needed her truth to set me free to be me.

Why does everyone want my children and not me? Why has my Mama given up on me? There’s still a Child inside me longing for her. And that just won’t change. I’ve walked this world without her so long. Longing for her face to shine with pride for me. I know I can do it.

When is my chance? Why must I do it alone when others get their own Mamas? This trail of tears leads to her door each days end.

When will she see the pure love it takes to stand up and tell an awful truth? When will she see past all that’s said to see me?

When I was looking for Mama I was warned she might be a drug addict or worse? And I prayed to God and asked God what to do? The voice so clean came back to ring, she’s your Mama and that doesn’t matter. I love her anyway. Drugs and all of that was the case.

Deep inside me I knew that wasn’t true of my dear Mama. I knew she was stupendous. And that’s why I knew I needed her in my life.

It’s not been easy going home. It’s scary. So many people against it. Telling me to turn back and yet God opening doors to do just that. Finding her with only God as my detective. Wading through all that people said and did? Telling me she didn’t give a shit about me? Then those who said she loved me so much she gave me away? What is the truth? I want her to say it. To me.

I want to see her faith in me for motion. I’d like her to put her actions where my mouth is and shut up all the hate poured into me with that love I know she’s still got inside her for me.

Verbal abuse turns to mental abuse when a child is programmed by bullies trying to make me be who they want me to be. And Mamas the only one who’s been honest with me. Her reactions to the abusive things pouring out of me are spot on. She needs to know I am not messing around and am serious about changing. Here. Not there I wash myself clean to them go home to Mama again and begin.

It’s a love story with no end. And I’m at a dead end right now, turned around and pointed towards Mamas place waiting for that sign from heaven that it’s safe to go home now.

The lesson I’ve learned is age old. There’s no place like home. Everyone else can say it’s peachy keen. But that’s not what I experienced growing up without my own Mama. And I won’t lie to save anyone face. The truth is my ground zero. To build again. Clearing out all that shamed me.

Mama doesn’t realize how scared I’ve been. Taking steps to her door to see if it’s safe at last to go home. The hurt of not feeling seen for who I am. Her daughter who’s wandered and wondered about her care for me.

Age doesn’t matter when you want your Mama you want your own Mama.

Why is it my fault I knew that Mama Jean wasn’t her? Expected to just go on knowing my own Mama still was alive and had taken Her gift all wrong. I’ve always been honest. Mama Jean is not my own Mama.

I personally think the world is crazy for not being able to see that daughters no matter what always want their own Mamas when times get rough.

psychecafe

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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