3-4 am. Seems like the time I wake up. Not dawn but predawn. Guess my body wakes to meet the new day and say goodbye to the night before the light steals the night away? When Mother and Father meet to greet each other and talk about the children. Us.
It’s like getting invited to eat at the adult table on thanksgiving when I wake up at this hour of day that looks still like night. Maybe? It’s when both sides of the brain have consolidated all the informations taken in and the coffees ready to discuss the next move? maybe when that happened the brain is clear to receive? And my writing takes off.
Maybe it’s those two energies that have got ahold of me at that time. As I sit quietly and type what comes. That’s what it like to be me. Listening for? What? Mama and Daddy talking end of day and beginning of day plans. That steamed from longing to hear my own parents do that instead of strangers that don’t even know them?
Yeah. It’s deep. And I have found that not a lot of people delve into the places I walk. Being adopted is much like being some ambassador from another country, sent to a stranger land to learn the ways of other cultures through the eyes of a child. The placement is quite unique. And Adoption gives the child experiencing this new world a unique seat at the show. Not really belonging. But invited to participate. To watch. To observe. But not really tasting? Much.
Your taste buds long for home cooking from your own country. But. That’s denied. You must eat the foods prepared whether you like the taste or not. You’ve got to accept it gracefully as you can to not upset the new country’s feelings. They did take you in you know? Your Mama didn’t want you so suck it up girl. That’s your life now.
Maybe three am is when I question the higher Mama And Daddy while most folks are sleeping? Like why? And what do you wish for me to do about it? Because ultimately? They are in charge here not me? Yet. I must pass all their test before I may rule as they. Right?
What’s it like being adopted? I’ve been asked that question a lot. And it’s a very long drawn out story most people just, struggled to wrap their one set of parents minds around. Including my own parents and children. It’s weird. Being adopted is weird. And it’s makes you weird. That’s the simple answer. It’s a strange recipe of bittersweet mixed with a lot of sour, and syrup poured all over it. Very messy and hard to digest. And your tummy hurts all day and night. And your nerves are shot. Mind blown all day like a hollow hole in a wall taking air in and out. You end up Whistling due to the force and Velocity of wind speed.
Do you like it? And that’s a loaded question with a bazillions answers you don’t even wanna know. Go home. Love the Mama you’ve got honey. This is what unrequited love looks like at the lowest level. She may be crazy. True. Your not alone there I’ll say that. But. You don’t have two like me? So. Be grateful. What do you mean two? I only see one? Yeah. I know. Your blind. It’s ok. I really don’t have time to explain. And? You won’t understand anyway. Later. Maybe?
Let’s go climb a tree.
The little conversation of a child growing up adopted with her peers and elders who just don’t get it. Fun. I was not born with a stick to point out all the details missed or even given an half board of my own with a library to study to be able to describe the answers to allllll the questions. I would have to work to educate myself to educate others about what the fuck is up with me. The world seemed to want to know. Cuz they did not leave it alone. Nope. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. What’s up with you? Over and over again.
Forcing me to go there. Where? There. Why? What? Who? When? Where? What? Huh? Duh? Oh? Guess I better go, my head hurts now. Yeah. Mine too. Now you kind of can feel it but it’s to much for you? Huh? Yeah. I’d better carry this alone honey. It’s to much for you. No. No no. I got it. You go home to supper. And tell your Mama I love her. Ok? You tell her you love her too. It’s important you do. Believe me. I know twice as much as you do the value of that woman your mother. See you later. Maybe. I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately. I might not be at school tomorrow. I hate it too. But I’ll be back.
Maybe I’ll get an education someday? Or maybe this is my education? Hmmm? Now that’s a thought? It sure is an education God. Are you there? I’ve been missing Mama lately. Makes me crazy and my tummy hurts again. I don’t like the questions all day and feeling on display like some circus animal in a cage called adoption. Biting kids does make them shit up and leave me alone. That’s for the idea. God. At least I know you care about me and not the other kids who’s Mama kept them that don’t know how much my Mamas love me? Cuz they can’t see the other one? Who’s praying for me in a bush somewhere called a closet. Ugh. They are so dumb.
Why are people so dumb God? I know. I should be nice. But it’s you I am talking to not? Some human. Who hasn’t gone to this school of thoughts? Pool of broken dreams gone wild varsity show more like. I know. I just got to get this our Lords. I really want a hug from Mama today. My body aches from the pain I don’t want. Please. Take it away I don’t want to be sick anymore. Please. They are going to cut on me again. How much note must I loose to lose this pain that keeps showing up? These people don’t get, YOU CANT CUT THIS PAIN OUT!! Ugh. So tired of being poked at and cut on.
I know. They are trying to help Lord. But they are not helping me at all. They are all crazy! They think I am their baby? Seriously Lord. It’s a cruel joke. And it’s making me sick. When? May I go home? Where is home anyway Lord? I hope I feel better when you help me find Mama? I hope so. Where’s my blanky? I’ll hold her. She’s smells like Mama. That’s will have to do for now. Good night Lord. I love you. Amen.
And on and on the mental twitter goes of a child growing up adopted goes. Reams of data sent to the Supreme Court of the High Mother and Father goes up like my smoke signals from long ago. And at 5 am. The Messages return to me. unanswered. Blank pages for me to answer what I’ve experienced in those blank pages. I’ll tell you why. I should know. I have been adopted 57 years and I am one of the experts at this lifestyle. Guess it’s still sounding like a great idea? People are giving up their children in the trillions. Very interesting indeed to someone like me.
It’s just me here. A woman who grew up inside a very covert system that cloaks children deemed rejectable by their own Mothers and recycled into some kind of washing machine of our identities. Only to find out it’s not a washing machine at all? But note like a pale filled with dirty water filled with the children of their parents who gave up on them. Steeped in emotions they really don’t wish to feel. Like a bucket of poison. Spilling today as we take to the air to find our own parents to ask the questions why to them? To stop and listen to all the excuses as to why? They were chosen? Why?
What say ye dear parents who left the one to go play with the 99? What say ye to the one left behind? Now that I caught up with you? Tough question to be presented with? Yes. I’ve been grappling with it myself? Alone. We could have figured this out a long time ago? You could have figured it out a long time ago? If you’d have only been able to keep me? The gift that keeps on giving you a pain on the ass. Or am I a pain in your ass? Or could it be your ass hurts cuz? Your lazy? Didn’t go to work when I came along and gave the work to come one else? Could it be that maybe?
Or could it be? Your own decisions now facing you in human flesh is biting you in the ass right now? Why blame me? You made me? God made me from you? Why do upset? There. There. It’s ok. Everyone misses marks and tells them leaves they hit it on the head. You can shoot again you know? Maybe higher this time? And with your eyes open wide. So you can see the mark you are trying to hit? Yes. That’s would be so nice huh? Yes. It’s ok. The parents that keep their kids are no better than you. Trust me on that one. I’ve seen it myself. You can trust me on that one. 🥰
If I may say? Dear Parent. You seem to be looking for home too? I know. I do appear strange. That’s true. Growing up without you? Was strange. And I guess it rubbed off? Please excuse me. You seem strange too. Was it strange for you? Seems it rubbed off on you too. Shhhhh. But? Everyone sees it anyway. It’s ok if we take a load off and just call the spade a spade. and maybe? Find a new game to play of them? Does that sound fun? New game? I like games. Fun and educational for the mind space you know? Of course you know? We are the same aren’t we after all? Just strange. 🙀
Yes? Oh. That’s. I disarmed you’re alarm. Why? Cuz it’s my job. That’s alarms been going since we parted. Running in the ears? Yeah. Me too. Seems it a side affect of relinquishing so soon? Yeah. It a pain. That’s true. But I’ve done the research. Coming together was the best bet for us both. It’s good for our nervous systems that we forced into overload when I was born and removed. The world catching up and now realizing the affects. Takes time. They don’t understand like we do. The real affects of this life style. But my friends. Your friends are coming out by the droves. It’s will be common knowledge soon. This will all be over and in the history books.
Our story will be one of the greats. Of our story of the great take over of a system and coming back together stronger. Defying the odds of a bazillion degrees of separations. The story of the two woman that came together to help me learn a hard lesson in a cold world that keeps making Moses instead of dealing with a kind who knows better then to do such things to children. Why? In the hell no one sees that side of the Moses story I’ll never get? It’s right in print! But people who’s parents have kept them just can’t relate?
So I was sent to teach this lesson. And Mamas and Dad’s all get served first. if I can’t get through to my own Mama then who can I even get through too? Practice makes perfect. And. It’s time you teach your lessons too. I know you got a few. Yes. I do. You told me about you when you sent me that plate saying your my super star. Super star shine brightly. So. You too gurl. You too must shine now with me. Super star with super star. With super star three. With no internet, cell phone, gps. I made it home woman. A strange woman meeting a strange woman just like her. No denying that. At all.
But I like it. I’ll can not lie. I’ll take you again and again and again. Cold. Hot. Luke warm. Whatever. I don’t get that part of the Bible that says if you are like warm I will spew you out of my mouth bit? Sounds ungrateful to spew Luke warm out of your mouth? I mean? Goldie locks liked it Luke warm? Besides it does burn your mouth or freeze your teeth? Why? Would God do that? If god loves us god loves us all temperatures? Sounds more like a human things and not god. Sounds like a bratty king demanding? God is not a brat?
I mean look at us? The whole planet? We see bratty people all day wasting? Squandering what’s been given? Babies? Food? clothing? Trash floating around in the ocean waiting for us to figure out what really matters? And to realize what stewardship really is? The whole place is our home. Yet we hoard and trash daily what could be given to our brothers? Not realizing the cost of postage is way less then costing us all in the end? How did I get here?
Well that an answer your gonna have to calculate. I’m working double Time here. You seem to be doing single time and need to catch up with me on this one. I’m waiting on the whole world to get it. Cuz we all got to work together at some point in this game of chances. Everyone of us needs to get that lesson. It’s basic but I guess a lot of folks thing it’s stupid. What lesson?
It’s not all you honey. It’s us. It’s we. It’s team. I am. Is two words. I and Am. Two. Not one. And done forget. The space between I and Am. Is god. So that’s three. Put. It. Together for god sakes. It’s plain as day. 24 hours. Makes a six. Makes two 3’s. And so on and so forth. 3 is a constant number here. Duh. Not just one and two. The space between is counted as well. Spaces are countable. As this program counts to spaces as I write. Now that’s some math right there.
Growing up adopted is like being in the space of the between. The cleft in the rock if you will. No mans land. No land any man really wants to be placed. Barren and yet? Fruitful. A desert of said nothing yet? Plainly in view on this page. Spaces all over the place. right here. And all my adopted sister and brothers hiding all over this page looking back at you. Waving. Hello! Peek a boo! Boo pee!! See us now? Yeah. We’ve been eating here with Belinda to show you where we are. 👋👋👋 Hi Mom!! It’s me! Your baby! Can you see me now? The suns coming up about now. I might disparate a bit. But if you squint real hard? You can still see me. I love you Mama! Xoxo
Got to go. Get back to work marking folks see me from here. Don’t worry so much. I’m doing the best I can to make folks see you too here in the space with me. It’s gonna be ok. Ok? Just settle down now. This parts the roughest after you take flight. The landing is key. this eagles been landing for years. I’ll guide you safely. Trust me. I’ve got you all the way back down. I will not let go until we all have landed safely. That’s why I am here on this blog. Coaching folks to safe landing.
These Moses called we the children of Adoption. Are coming home to our families with our full honors bring yours to you. Our blood sweat and tears are this Red Sea parting leading us into our promised land together and no longer apart. They missed a lot on the Moses story we all have learned and I’m fickin to teach um! A lesson we won’t forget! Or misinterpret! I am Moses sister by all rights and experiences. And I refuse to kill my family wit the sounds of silence. Spaces no more. Invisible to a naked eye that has seen us daily. Walking. In human flesh. Denied one another for what? What? Anyone? Got the answer? Or to dumb to see clearly what’s what around here?
Maybe get our fro behind your own Mamas apron to take a gander at you sister or brother from another Mother being denied their own mother who god knows why the excuses keep coming in from all over as to why? Children keep getting rejected? It’s plain as day they are supposed to be received as gifts? Yep people keep killing them? Aborting them. Relinquishing them? Anyone? Seem to know why? Well I’ve got a few answers you might not want o hear but your gonna hear them. Cuz I Be Linda Jean. I’ll take no for no answer and just proceed on schedule.
You’re getting what you gave me. Unedited. Unrehearsed. Unprepared. Unimaginable. Un un un un unplanned. Surprise attack. Uncooked. Unrefrigerated meat. Spoiled. But this salt of truth will cure the spoiled out of a world of ungrateful fools who know neither victory or defeat. Or the Taste of ones own blood and sweat after a fight or flight for their life. Tossed by an adult your life was untrusted to to another like a hot spoiled potato! Take it! Take it! I can’t bare to taste it! Only to find? Out later. That taters was perfectly cooked in a fine oven. It’s was the cooks recipe that was spoiled. To many hands in the pot. Spoiled Gods brew. not the ingredients but the combination of ingredients. To much. To to much.
Go back to basic. Try again. Try. Try again everyone. If you don’t like the taste of me? Then to bad. Go back and try again. Cuz this is what you get when you add all this together like this. Don’t blame me for turning out like this. Change the recipe. Change Adoption practices. Change the world and how they see us. The children. And woman doing this day in and day for god knows why and how long? It’s sad. Folks struggle to get something so simple as a baby coming out of a woman. Throwing us around like puppies. Thinking we don’t see? Y’all be crazy up in here. Crazy. Not me. I see it. Do you?