About psychecafe

I am an adopted, artist, Mother, a soul, a human, singer, writer, activist. And I am here because we need to change how you see it, adoption that is. For us Adoptees who are in the dark. We are cut off from our families. And that is sad people.

All because of you.

That overbearing, all pervasive
dark matter,

the swollen river that floods my
heart and breaks my banks,
chokes my throat and pierces my
brain stem, that sticks it’s bamboo
needles under mental fingernails, creates
tattered meat from perilous fortune, twists
my will until my spine shatters like crystal
and leaves me

a pointless fool.

All because
of you.

All Because Of You. A poem.

Pretty good poem. I mean it’s so deep and dark and yet illuminating. Just wanted to share.

Thanks Steve for still standing. And write such good stuff!! Keep going man!

http://stevestillstanding.com

What does it take?

I wonder what it takes to help people see what I see. And how do you explain how it felt to those who really don’t want rock bottom truth about it. What do you do when the world you live in, that includes your Mothers, and yet refuses to subscribe to the truth you speak?

What’s does it take? When will it be fashionable to be honest? When will it be permissible to speak freely? Evidently, my Mamas got a script I must read from, and their are many subjects that are just not spoken about openly. Openly. Openly. I love verbal freedom and mental freedom. I love letting my mind just go where it wants instead of where instructed to think and speak.

I guess some people think seeds die. I am a seed. And I have been dormant for years. But, I am pretty sure a good frost just came that broken this seed open. And what’s coming out and growing is love that’s been kept inside this seed. Of course I love the tree I came from. What seed hates it’s own Mother tree? I am planted far from her. Yes. But as we all know by now. Everything needed to grow a tree is within the seed. I am from a Linda tree and have been tended to by a Jean tree, who raised me to be like her. But I am me. My genetic predisposition was set at Conception. So. Training me to act like another has been most difficult. It’s like training an Oak tree to be a vine. Or a cat to be a dog.

And yet I am a bit different, now because of this altered reality. And it’s not easy being told your Crazy for seeing things a bit different. Especially since your lifes been so jerked around and has had so many changes in characters. Mamas got he scripts. Mama Jeans got hers. What’s mine again? Oh. Right. Read what they tell you to read. Great. I am really not like either of these woman, but am able to act similar in some ways. I don’t agree with their ideas about me. Neither do I condone their actions of denial towards my scripting changes.

I would love to see them walk a day in my shoes. I would love to see Mama have her personal powers stripped from her and to watch how she handles it. To be shit down and told what to say and feel and to not even think about her Mama. May she Rest In Peace. Does that sound mean? And yet no one even gave a shit that this was done to me? Ripped from one place and thrown into another, without even a care about how I might take this very change in my script? I was thrown into insanity. Forced to play a role that I was not. Grace. Oh grace. Where were you then?

Oh, But I was saved from a Mother who did not love me. Right. Right. What in the hell is wrong with helping her see the blessing in me? You left her crazy. It is crazy to think your child is curse. These are the dark thoughts that Adoption gave me. I am a good person who’s been treated like cattle, except for slaughtering me. Thank god. I am so grateful. Gag.

My children think me Crazy too. And that’s the feedback loop we are in. Mama started it by calling me a mistake. And then the snowball continued to grow. Lies are like that. And I do not appreciate my life, or myself being treated this way. And there are so many people brainwashed about adoption. They just say what’s told to them. But I know what it’s like to be cut off from your Mama, by your Mama. They do not. It’s like book learning and applicable learning. Experiences always wins over books.

And I held onto my Mama for dear life. I resurrected her within myself. She comforts me. The Mama I remember, comforts me. And if that Crazy? Then the world was Crazy to do me that way. Because it made me have to survive. And Mama was my focal point. She gave me hope for change. But. She’s not acting like she even loves me. She acts like she hates me. And what I think she hates is the confusion, now, between us both.

She hates the truth now, and she’s a Christian? Who feeds on god’s truth? She’s got gods word to hold too. But my truth seems to knock her off balance. Funny. Her truth did the same to me back in the day. Took me many years to overcome and function. Nothing made sense to me after Mama did me like this. You know? A Mothers teachings are foundational. And My Foundation was shattered. I recently bought some crystal singing bowls. The root Chakra bowl kept arriving broken. I finally got one that was whole. And the other day my eldest daughter said it fell off the table and broke. It’s official. My base is shattered for sure.

And I blog to find a way within myself to fix it. But there are a million pieces. And I have been doing this puzzle for years. I guess I thought that maybe My Mamas and I could do this together since they started it. They shattered me and didn’t know it. Cuz, I’ve done all I can to gain a better foundation. I didn’t even realize my foundation was shattered. But I’ve prayed. So God seems to be showing me where to look for the discomfort I feel. And is showing how to fix what’s been shattered. I guess I am now going to be a mosiac.

I can live with that. If the world can live with that. I am sick of being called Crazy by my own family. Especially my children. Done. If that’s what Chelsie Lynn wants to think about he Mama, well, get on with it. Just block me and be like your Grama. Just tell yourself you have no Mama. Like Grama has lived like I never was.

To forgive is Divine. By forgetting is the thing that takes work. Telling the tale is excruciating. I did not want to go here. And yet I am here. And Mamas rejected me again. So topical. When will we learn? I need to talk about this. This is the most I have talked about being adopted. Ever. I’ve felt like a child in a cage. It feels like human trafficking. And I felt kidnapped growing up. Frustrated. My parents here not like me. And yet neither is Mama evidently.

Trying to understand people you share no dna with is hard. And many things just don’t stick. Names for one. They don’t stick. Because I had no context to connect it too. And no one really realized that I was a foreigner and need a tour of my new world. They didn’t see I needed grace and compassion. Training I guess you would say. But. It was a fly by the seat of your pants training. Like boot camp. Strict. And foreign.

It’s hard to explain. Because I have felt these feelings so long. And I struggle to articulate what I mean so that Mama can understand. Mama Jean said yesterday that nothing I’ve said hurt her. And if that’s true? She never bonded to me then. And that’s how I feel. She loves me and hates me. It’s like I am Linda and yet not. I came from Linda. And I will not lie to make people feel comfortable when I did not feel comfort. I felt homesick.

I apologize for being so blunt. And I truly mean no harm. But I need to get this out it’s making me sick. My Mama’s truth is not my truth. I see their truth, but mine if different. And I am tired of paying the price for this. I did not do this. I was the child this was done too.

Thanks for diving deep with me today.

I really don’t want anyone to hate me anymore. But I must love myself enough to speak up.

God bless.

It will workout

In the end it will work out. Mama will come around. My mama will meet. Or________. Fill in the blank. These are my dreams. We all have one.

My dreams is manifesting. Not like I thought it would? No. I did not see myself blogging to give myself permission to speak freely? No. But it’s liberated me. Saying the unsayable, unthinkable, unimaginable, and very unrehearsed. I spoke from my heart. Which was broken and trying to heal.

People bump your shit. They rub against your issues. Not to rub it in. But to make you aware. I’ve learned that by speaking freely I give others permission to do the same. And it’s not easy letting words be spoken that have not. It’s like being naked. Exposed. My anger hid my wound from healing. And I needed to get to the bottom of why anger was with me.

Angers not a bad energy. Anger ignites you. Anger inspires you to action, to doing something about it. I’ve complained for years about Mama, trying to figure out a way to reunite, connect, and bond to her all the way. Not just part way. Children should be able to tell their Mamas everything and have no fear of rejection. That’s why I don’t give up on her.

We are practicing. Agape Love. Agape Love never gives up and keep showing up to be seen and experienced. I may be angry, frustrated, confused, emotional, but I still love my Mama. And desire to see her love for me as well. And for our love to grow to it’s fullest. Just like I desire the same thing with Mama Jean.

And being adopted is complicated. Because certain key people that contribute to your well being as a whole, have been kept from each other. I progress each time I see Mama. And she progresses too. But it would go smoother if all involved would see this as natural and a needed part of our family’s evolution. A child comes home or is born. Each time a place is made for them. I have a place in my family’s. And accept that I have two.

I stand on faith. I stand on god who sent me to Mama first. I claim my birth right. I have two now. And I join the two and accept them both as they are. Even if Mamas all wack out and upset. I accept her. I accept that Adoption did this to us. But I don’t have to leave us this way. I am willing and able to clean this up.

In the end. It will work out.

Thanks for diving deep

God bless

They say..,.

They say… ” Once a Mother, always a Mother”, right? But I want to say this..::

“Once a daughter/son, always a daughter/ son”

And with that written. I claim my daughterhood to a woman who did not get me, did not keep me, and yet loved me. And I claim my daughterhood to a woman who could show up with all these odds to love me anyway, and who loves me more. Than my own Mama! If you are not sure about a love and test it, what’s left when the flames of truth fire, are true. I must accept my Mamas limitation of love for me. Her love gave me life. Mama Jean gave me nourishment and healing to grow beyond my own Mamas dreams of what I ultimately would become.

  • Mama Jean may not have bore me or been able to submit her body to God for its creation. But she my Mama. Inside her body that’s not like mine, is my Mama.
  • She has struggled with me.
  • We have struggled to bond beyond our DNA.

This was the last step of my integration. Not to let go of her. But to make room for her by letting this old love go. Mama was a dream. She is not real except within Mama Jean. I see her there and not in the one I came from. It’s strange and yet a comfort. The more I tell, and let go, the closer she gets to me. So my old truth was in our way. Mama, was in our way. And we all need to purge an old negative to illuminate a positive. And Mama Jean and I have a good foundation now. It’s on truth. Mine. At long last is out. And its heading back towards Mama. Because it was her truth spoken over a child that grew in her for another. She should not have seen me the way she did. I obviously was for another. Why not treat me better? Why not teach me better for her? She did not even know her name? And with every fiber of my being, I know she did not treat me well and my body has suffered fo her lack of care. And that’s. Just not ok. So she must pay for that. I don’t know the price or the way. But she will pay for that over sight. Karma. Always wins.

  • Thanks for diving deep with me today

God bless. I let you close enough to feel my Love. But. You will not have it for God cur you off. Not me. God brought me close so you could see what came to be from Your idea of a mess. I am no ones mess.

Let go of your past. And move forward fearlessly…

Another spot on reading for Mama. Letting go of something is hard. So. I kept a little Fire energy from my Daddy the fire sign to burn it to the ground with Gods help. So for heaven sake Mama. Let it go. January is coming. December we lay it to rest with respect. Dignity. And love.

January is a new year. I will be 55. You will be 80. Let’s try living beyond our past. Let’s turn this shit into a future worth living.

Growing up… I used to…

Growing up, I used to wake up at night. I would wake up, and I needed to pee. But it was dark and scary. And i would wake to a suffocatingly fearfulness, that it took me what felt like forever to work up my courage to call for my Dad to turn on the light so I could see my way.

I am not sure exactly what this fearfulness was about. But it came at night. And it would stoke me vocalless. I felt unable to speak when I woke and it took me a while to overcome the fear to call out and against my instinct to be quiet and call out for help. Fear was a very strong feeling for me. Thank god for Jesus and the word. But it would take me years to face my fears for they were many.

And I always called for my Dad. My Mama Jean didn’t do night shift most days. She was a day shift girl. Which was ok. Dad always got up. And he always turned the light on even though he could not see what I feared. Which sadly Was calling for Mama. But I didn’t really have a good start from my perspective with mine, so, I didn’t want to push my luck with this Mama.

Feelings came over me daily growing up. Anxiety was my unwelcome friend many times when I would feel a wave and not know what, why, or where this feeling came from, except that it came from within. As if some cryptic alarm had been triggered, but no one seemed to understand how to turn the damn thing off. Especially me. So upsetting. So.

I can talk about it now. Because I faced it. Asked it questions. Looked for the answers. Many feelings I still work to identify. That’s why I am speaking openly so my Mama can read about it. That’s why I go up to look into my mirror of reflection called my Mama. To see the truth. To ground into it. Whether good or bad. I need truth. Lies are shaky ground. And Mama knows that. She does.

But how do we turn this around is the ultimate question? It takes us all to find the new plan. To leave me like this is not healthy. To block me out is not healthy. I know my family has feelings about this. Victoria showed me some of those feelings on my last visit. But I wonder. Is that all she feels at the end of the day about me? Unwelcome? I know I never made her feel unwelcome when she came to stay with me?

And now that I have spoken what no one wanted me to speak? We have this. Silence may be golden but what’s gold any good here? Can it buy me my family back? Can it buy me a new one? Can it buy me some peace for all these questions? Growing up I thought about my family.

And they didn’t even know I existed. I longed for sisters and brothers. And My siblings on my fathers side accept me as I am. I feel it when we are together. Sure it’s awkward, but they rolls with it and even celebrate it. But when I am with my Mamas side, I feel secret feelings, that no one thinks I can feel. Mama feels anger and sees it in me. And yet is unable to validate her own anger with our situation and take it out on me as well. They are not the only ones being hurt and confused by all this. I mirror their own dismay as well. Right back to them as I state what I see and wait for they to do the same so we can adjust and yet. They do not.

And my mind that has been trained by the word will not allow me to just go on without teaching us all a lesson about faith and strength and love that pushes all this out of the way. So we can see each other as we truly are. Human. Humble. All this is our garbage and yet no one wants to help sister to take it out. Hmmm? Like I made it? I came back to it. Willing to work. And yet the spaghetti noodles are still not done and won’t stick to the wall? Lordy.

Growing up I experienced so many things that have bettered me. But I am not gonna talk about that until this shits on lock. As Chelsie used to say. I am about to shank someone! Serious spiritual shanking going on here. Gonna shank some ignorance up in here! I am jerking a blister up on this ignorant shit up in here!! As my last husband Would say. He’s from KY.

Like life is not clouds and pillows all day. What kind of Christians are we if we struggle to endure and block the process? What is Christ good for if we block life? My Mama wants to say I am blocked and yet she’s the one blocking? Not me? I am articulating. I am communicating. I am trying, doing, loving, and on and on. What does love look like to you? What is Love when the cakes all gone? At the end of the day? What does it look like?

Do I look like I could care less? Does a person that could care less blog all day about it? Does the devil come straight to your face? No. It’s little by little. I am uncomfortable like this. My family seems dead about it. Like wow. Did I see myself here with Mama? No. I never imagined us here. Not in my wildest dreams!! So I ask God why? Why?And all I hear is keep writing. All I feel is pain that keep Bubbling up for release as Mama keeps blocking our progress and dig her ego’s heels into the sand she doesn’t release she’s standing on.

She’s not got a leg to stand on. And she doesn’t even realize their out from underneath her. My truth kicked them. And she’s so stubborn. She tells me I am the stubborn one and yet she can’t see all I’ve done for her. Plastered on each page are the words that tell what I felt and went through for her. For us. I thought? Oh. There I go thinking again?

Today was a hard day. I don’t know why? I wake up. Emotions running. Triggered. Tender. Crying? Why am I crying? Why do I feel so bad and struggle to push through the emotions? I know who I am. And I know who God is. And that God is in me. But what is all this that I feel? And I reach out. Finally to cal Mama to turn the light on for once in my life. And she’s to busy. To busy helping god’s children and leaving her own to fend for herself. Still. And she’s got me back. And can’t see the gift and what’s she done with it? She can’t see how she looks at me, how she is choosing to see me? And adjust herself? For I see her. Plain as day. And still came back.

I am waiting. I am humble and grounded in God and therefore know who’s I am. I am the child of the most high God and you best only see that. Unwelcome should never be spoken to me. Or anyone else for that matter. Naughty. Naughty. But truthful. I give ya that. Vicki.

Holy anger has no sin. I am angry, now with ignorance in my own family. To stay ignorant is the sin.

Thanks for diving deep

God bless.