Back in the sixties and on up there really was not much in small town America in the way of counseling for the adoptee. No one saw a need and we the adoptee had to just deal with the trauma we experienced.
Mama jean knew how sensitive I was. And she also knew it was due to adoption. Not that she adopted me? But that my own Mama did not want me and gave me away. Somehow she knew.
But it was gonna be up to me to find the way. She was just the new foundation out in place to help me and to hold onto while my storm raged against me. I was blessed that I didn’t fall into drug an alcohol back then. That would not have helped at all.
It want until I was older that I used alcohols and smoked pot that I gained so much clarity. Going into trauma is horrific. And I did need some meds. I’d gone to the doctor and tried the meds they gave, but marijuana would prove to be the best yet. It help me get behind my trauma and to observe my own behavior. It opened me up so my pain could ooze out.
Marijuana seemed to access the files that were trapped by my child wrapped in all that pain I learned and found my way out. It help me handle it all as it all rose to the top and just spewed out.
I’ve learned that all my reactions were linked to a trauma I couldn’t even see. A trauma I shared with my own children. Who deserves better of me, but was unable to give due to that trauma never being faced honestly.
How can you address an elephant I. Your own mind that no one seemed to mind? What I mean is, everyone just accepted that I was different. No one said, “Gee? Maybe Belinda needs some help? She seems a little upset and off her game?”
And for years I used sarcasm as an escape from all the pain that came from just not understand what the hell had happened to me? Comic relief. Something would trigger me, I’d either go balls to the wall and tirade or sarcasm would save the day. It was a very mixed bag of emotions motioning me this way and that.
It made me so angry I could not seem to just keep the even keel. And over the years my frustration just seem to build and build. And that’s probably what contributed to Chelsie fall from grace and drugs. Trying to numb the pain I inflicted for lack of whatever. You name it.
Unlike my own Mama. I learned from a new Mama who had her own pain, that showing up and doing your best would give me the strength to do better. Go higher. And not give up.
And. If abandonment must come around again through my own kin then might as well be my child. Because if I trigger her so badly that she had to abandon me to save herself well ok. Do what ya got to do. Self preservation is something I need to learn and to stop putting everyone else ahead of me.
I had no idea she was saying drugs. It just wasn’t something I could see? And for that I apologize. And then the lesson of my own Mama not seeing made more sense to me. How could my own Mama see my pain? How could I see Chelsie pain until I faced my own?
She deserves to get free of anything and anyone that causes her to get triggered. If that me then I’ll have to take this additional medicine. Do I like the taste? No. But I’ll have to take it anyway if she’s served it to me. That’s my creed.
She’s got my own Mama now to support her. So she doesn’t really need me now does she? What I really want is for her to want me. Not need me anyway. This is me making peace after the war within is over. With myself and God. And. My own Mother whether she read this or not.
I’ve held onto a memory of a woman I now don’t recognize. It carried over into our reunion. It carried over and bleed onto everything. And my children poked at the wound and it would bleed out all over what we had and that’s tragic. But not savable in my mind. Cuz I’m no slacker that’s for sure. I’ll do whatever it takes to come clean from my drug, pain from trauma.
Like a crack pipe I handed to each of them to breath in. I was filled with disease. Dis. Ease. Not at ease. Checked out. Gone in the mind. Lost. Still a child. Yet living in a grown up body still reeling and reeling while pain took again from me what I long so much for. Family.