Is up with you??
They are cooking shows in 60’s? They are dancing. Challenging. Comedy. witchtoking. sciencing, psychologying, Cooking? In 60 seconds? Lip syncing. Crying. Complaining. Poets. Trollers. Haters. Knitters. Crafters.
Resins really blowing up on tiktok. And the witches are in the tiktok closet. I’m learning a lot about all kind of people in a safe environment. My nieces and nephews are probably all on there. So close. And yet so far. Weird life of mine.
It’s like adoption tells your family they can just pass. No thank you. On you. I wonder? Is that what they want to attract? You get what you give. I wonder? I’m telling yo god awful truth. that’s what I want. All of it. Truth. We can’t get to the juicy good within if we just leave the dross on top. Creme brûlée doesn’t not taste good without the burn sugar crust. Silver looks like shit with impurities in it. Or does it? Is that what we told ourselves? See? I ask hard questions that make people brains hurt cus it’s all rusty inside from lack of mental exercise.
My daughter? My oldest? Well. She’s so mental folks try to say she mental. Her brain? Yeah. I worked it. She’s been using computer toys for years. I was on welfare most of those years. And I knew. She’s catch up anyway and blow by everyone. And. She did. That’s me with me as a Mama. I had a lot to work with. She took it and ran with it. That’s like me not held back by people that don’t get me.
Sometimes? She’s going so fast it takes me a minute to process. Her processing in on fleek. I see in her a lot. My other kids? They? Hide it. Sneaky little shits that I love. But they are so covert. Which also tells you about me. Covert. Adoption forced me to be covert due to lack of being able to just talk about my Mama. No one wanted to hear that mess. Which stunted my communications skills. I don’t think my kids have put that together yet. If they had they’d maybe cut me some slack.
I’m a weird Mama. I accept that I parent differently then their friends. I didn’t come here to get liked anyway. I came her to love and do a good job. My children were raised by a woman with a handicap and they didn’t even see it. Until they all moved out. Chelsie friend telling me to be a Mother to her? Her friend doesn’t get me? Chelsie’s embarrasses by me. Duh? What’s anyone want me to do about it?
Listen. If my Mama can’t change? Well? This is what you get kiddos. I’m not happy about that. I’ve sat down. Gods gonna have to get me back up again. Fuck this. Corona take me. Serious. I’ll call her in. Come. Take me home. They don’t get me Mama Earth? Fuck um. I wanna got home for real. You gave me life. And you can take it home.
This. Is this adoptees saga of life right now. Typing on a phone. In a garage. Who knew? God knew. And gods the one who will take me either for good or get me to where I’m supposed to be. Maybe? My family is? Somewhere else. Cuz it don’t feel good right now. But. I’m used to that feeling. It’s just a bit more raw these days for some reason and so I blog to blow off steam and let it out. If people want to judge me? Well I’m used to it by now. But I don’t have to like it.
Mama jean? Why would she know I was weird? She raised me. She’s not gonna get what I am telling her about my family until she see them and hears them. Until she’s home where Mama put her. She’s the one that hired her in the first place. My feeling is she’s the one who also needs to accept who she hired and the results.
But. Tiktok. What a comic relief. Go check it out. It’s all the rage right now. Corona and all. Celebs are on there too. A big playground for thespians. Aren’t we all?