Yeah. I had some live skeletons in my closet.

My family. Was in my closet and I was in my families closet and we all are alive? That’s insane?

No wonder I feel like a slave and a gay person wrapped in autism? Forced basically to act like I am an only child when I am one of ten? 6 on one side and three on the other. And an added bonus brother from another mother. Who should get me cuz he’s me? The boy who was basically adopted by my own Mama who’s been kind of holding my place not realizing he’s got his own place now? Cuz mama knows how to set a big table for more or less.

So we do all have our places whether seen or unseen. And I am working to make sure my family fully realizes I do have a place. And it’s not outside. It’s within the family and always has been. But for Adoption that fact was painted over with paper and ink. But my blood tells the story of our connections. It is in the blood. And sweat. And being adopted did forge an alliance with another Jean pool. I have done well considering there’s no road map and a whole lot of misinformed people who think they are helping you put it all together but they have been missing a few key points that appear to really change the game once you make them known. Yes. A run on sentence. Just like my life.

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