And no, it’s not necessarily better to be alive. Walking around with a damaged brain, one that can lead you to hurt other people, creatures, things in a rage you yourself don’t understand is unthinkably painful and isolating. Anne Heffron
I already posted this piece. Anne edited it. The link is below.
I’ve shared. My story. I’ve had to live with exploding into my children and go off on them. Does that sound like fun? No. It does not.
I wanted a family. Children. A husband who loves me for me forever. I got them all. Lost the husband. They didn’t really mean what they said or they’d be with now wouldn’t they? Takes two.
Working my ass off. Trying to do the best I could to be a good mom. Did it matter? Did I succeed?
Or was I just wounded in such a way as no one could even tell? Help? What’s that?
My Mama was my last hope. Soooo. Yeah. Great! I just love being adopted. Not.
You think it’s all ok. And then you find out it’s not and that no one including you Moms can help you. So nice.
Killing a baby. Doesn’t seem like the answer either. It’s deeper. It’s gonna take more support and organization to head of procreation. Baby have been being born for years and we still don’t have it together. Either kill um or give um away.
Could we entertain educating the masses? Could we entertain support systems to help woman? Motherhood is a job people. Most woman work two jobs and only get paid for one. Soooo. Could we redefine the job title Mother? Can we take a moment and put a little more into sex education?
Hell I’d don’t even get a sex talk from Mama Jean. Just pads. No meds. Nothing but blood and a pad. And my kids tell me i sucked at it? No shit? Why is the mom always the one? And I’m getting it from my kids and so my Mamas be getting it from me cuz shit, goes down hill.
I’ll say this. At least I listen to my kids and do the beat I can to adjust. At least I give a shit and keep showing up here so Chelsie can see me trying. At least my kids can tell me I suck and I won’t turn them away or block them. Which is hard cuz I’m taking the heat for my Mamas too.
Failures to communicate be the issue here. And it started with the church and government who didn’t know shit about shit back in my day. I’ve had to read and read to even get a grasp of all I’ve felt about what happened to me.
I don’t really like living blocked from my own Mama. No. But this body wanted to live so here I am madder then a wet hen working to change it for those children not born yet.
Adoption is a trafficking of sorts too.
Does no one see what we adoptees see? What fostered children see?
Anne’s words hit hard as I look at myself and ask why did I even ever think I could be a good Mama? Look at my Mama.