Trying to piece it all back together. And resistance

Let’s talk about resistance.

In weight training and any exercises regiment, resistance is a vital necessity. Muscles must experience resistance to grow bigger and stronger. They must be torn. And them they heal and grow.

Most people give up when they hit resistance and give up and never see the results that they seek. But that’s not the case with me.

The woman I call Mama Jean has challenged everything that I secretly have always held dear. Adoption? For me has been much like an arranged marriage. I care deeply for her. I work to do what’s right by her. I love her. But I’m not in love with her. I have always loved another. My own Mother.

It’s not easy writing this all down let alone going where I’ve gone today. And god with gods poker keeps poking me to keep stepping forward. I like many get tired and want to give up. But giving up is just not in me. When I write I’m done. The next day, there God is poking me again to get up and begin again. Typing it out over and over trying to get this right.

I do piece work on I look at pictures and read documents almost daily. Today, I went to my fathers profile. And this is what I am illustrating. Somethings don’t line up with what I’ve been told. He joined the army 7 days before I was born. Just 7 days? And all I have are dates? I desire to have the stories.

And I seem to be the one person who’s that’s darn squeaky wheel begging for my greasin. And I’m denied. By my own family? Due to actions? I’ve shown here we all got some actions and none actions and laundry to clean and air out on the line. So why? Why? Does my own family keep denying? What is and was and ultimately what is to be?

Above is a photo of the military record showing that dates. My father a father at the time, goes into the military? Why? Mama? Linda living in Linda, growing his child. Getting ready for me to come so she could give his child away. That’s the truth. But why? What happened to them?

And why do I feel my ancestors pushing me so? Why do I feel such a connection to them? Why did my Grandma Margaret pray for me? Calling me Anne? What is missing? Mamas side. That’s what’s missing.

All clamped up. All jammed up. And still in denial. While her daughter continues piecing it all together. Alone with god and her ancestors.

Why did my grandfather? Margaret’s father? Die in Santa Clara? Away from his hometown? The man my sons name is so close too? Unknowingly named after a man I never knew? If you can’t see god in all this well you just don’t know god like me.

These are all the questions swirling around inside of me trying to find answers so I can see. Too.

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