My Mama’s were raised in another time.

Back in the day when I was born, it was very different than what it is like today for woman and children. And still today, we struggle to hit the mark. Woman have been baring children for years and the world goes around and around. And yet woman, many of whom have made great sacrifices, and gambled for their children well being.

Adoptions touts that they save lives and increase a childs status quo and erases any perceived stains from a childs record, and yet the relinquishment of a child to auction off to the highest most hungry bidder is precisely what is really going down. A manipulation, that is what Adoption is.  Free will. And even though we get a free will pass, we must remember, that at the other end of that free will is the affect on others and ourselves. I speak my truth to break the sound barrier that keeps the minds of society deaf to our voices and our stories.

I was born in a time of war and the sexual revolution. Many children were removed for such behavior as to be wild and free and procreate, and the people procreating did not understand the responsibility that comes with intimacy and a child. We all are learning. My Mama’s did their best with what was available at the time. I get that.

What I talk about is what I see that could make it way better, than another child having to hit the road to protect them from the heat. Because we still get heat. Especially kids like me. I was loud and proud about being adopted and answered countless questions and educated people about what we feel and think all along my way growing up. How can people know something you don’t teach them?

I have been observing the people in my life forever. I have asked for the things I speak of here before, but I was young. They think I forgot, or was maybe just mentally disabled and babbling. Either way, I have needs that have not been met. And one is the need for physical contact with my Mama, and a workable relationship, founded on honest and truth, in love. Like, educational, each learning the other. My Daddy was real keen on learning. She did not see that in him, well, it was there, cuz its in me.

Back in the day you saved face. You just moved on and learned your new lines and practiced them and taught them to your children. My Mama’s life was altered Mam, she carried me for nine months like it was nothing, popped me out and went home to clean the bathroom. That is not exactly, normal. Kind of twisted. Cleaning a dirty bathroom after giving birth to your girl? hmmm?

Well, it was some kind of coping mechanism for sure. She cleaned that mess up in her mind and neatly place it within her heart, incapsulated, in love. As much as she had to give me at the time. And now I just want to show her what I did with that seed? I mean I took her twisted idea of love and ran with it. I have been loving people for years and shine my light on many who are in the dark and need help lighting a situation up. My children are trained to do the same, by my example. They do it like breathing. And are very sensitive like me.

Mama, Hey, many people judge woman who do what you do. There are many schools of thought on Adoption. And I feel it benefits you the Mama of a child touched by adoption to be informed of my stand about it. And that I always stand for you, but don’t always see it like you, or agree. Mutual respect is all I ask. I do not bow to anyone except Christ, God, Source.

I know what you thought back then and now. And I see it. And all we need is one on one time and wine and love to iron it out. Do you hate ironing too? Well, brush up on ironing. I cleaned those dirty windows you were looking through, and you might want to clean you mind up too, it is dirty in here, remember, children leave cells behind, after birth, mine are still inside you. That is why I am under your skin, I always have been.

Trust, God. Would the God you know and serve, send you a demon? The devil my ass. God is all. Victory is always available, but we must believe. Believing Gods promises means practicing his word so that You can see the laws work. Trust this process. You will thank me in the end. I know, it hurts, and is disruptive.

And I see how my conception, birth and relinquishment caused such a disturbance for you. More than you could take at the time. I sincerely apologize. Seems strange apologizing to your Mother for being, but it feels right. But I am here to help you see me differently, but you must lay the old me down and it will only be for a second, and I will be right back to connect on a better plane. We don’t need to meet in secret anymore, and the girls be damned! They do  not own you. You are the Mama of 4 girls. We all matter and they don’t seem to get that? What do  you do? Grab them by the ear and show them? Well, heavens no, they are grown and should get it. But they don’t. Tough one for sure.

I mean they don’t even see your sacrifices, all they can think about is their old status quo. I wonder, do they even consider how it feels when they agree to exclude me from the family events and Mother daughter events as well. I imagine you must have to keep me small not to upset their little play going on and on. And I gladly have accepted that for a time, separation is how it would be for you and me. But I desire to break that policy and reconnect to you. It seems so stingy of them to  agree, that whatever you have told them is true. They don’t know you do they? Oh, when Mama tests… I learned long ago.

I’ll say this. They really don’t want to deal with me without Mama in my life. Mama Jean knows what its like and she kind of tired of it by now and wishes you would step the hell up and be good to the girl you gave her. OK? Many sides here. When you want your family to win, you have to address any and all weak links and discuss them. My family is non responsive, which to me means we are out of date and need to communicate our views and beliefs so we can get to know one another. My family is a bit reclusive and paranoid about me, which tells me they have many fears that they are not even fully aware of. They feel discomfort and think it is me, and yet, it is our Mama, calling me home and sisters that  need to grow the hell up.

You girls got her, 24/7. And Victoria? You don’t even appreciate Mama, like I do. You tell me it is Mama’s fault that you did not go to college, it was your own fault. You did not ask for help to fill out your forms and expected Mama to do it for you. Like hello! You chose another way! Own it. Be proud of it, stand up for yourself. Your time is worth something, don’t just give it away to those who do not see your worth. Liz best be paying you for being her live in Nanny. Seriously, or do what she can to help you. Teach her kids to respect you.

Adoption is confusing for all of us, and the information is not up to date if children like me who are grown now, stand idley by and let child after child slip through the fingers of their Mama’s and into a world without her. Mama’s are needed b their children for their best chance at well being. Relinquishment is an extremely harsh energy for a child to experience. And to grow up knowing that she’s out there somewhere living on without you is crushing to the spirit of every child relinquished.

The times have changed.

So the world must change.

Procrastination never does a thing

What kind of world do we want?

What are we will to work for?

Dorothy Got to Go Home after her nightmare. But that was just a fairytale

I guess the stories we tell each other are just stories. Because I am Dorothy and when God lead me back home, I was not welcomed, not all of me at least. I was not surrounded by uncles and my Mother, like Dorothy was after the tornado. Nope. She only wanted a candy coated version, like Disney I guess, but minus the reunion. But Dorothy went through quite a bit, and her family listened. They wanted to know, and did not run away or block her. They surrounded her with love and wanted to hear. They calmed her anxiety. Wiped her tears and had tears of joy that she returned and was ok after such a storm, that could have killed her.

I guess my Mama writes different stories. She gave her baby away and they lived happily every after, The End. Not. Maybe in her dreams, but not what I experienced. And I know, I am telling the same old story different ways, but that is how many people see it differently. I must explain it so people can picture it, and feel what it was like so we don’t go back there anymore. So we protect children rights to be with their family, the family God sent them too. For balance is important here on earth, even with children. Suffer the children to come unto me. Why does God have to take us up? When God send us to families? To Mothers? God is not demented, we are. WE are the ones with the free wills, and the ones who can say, not my will but thine be done?

There is no yellow brick road back to Mama’s house, with cookies and emotional bandages for my wounds. She can only take care of herself. And fill her home with useless stuff. No walks in nature with her, no weekends away with her, no nurture with her, not even my sisters really get that, much. She lost it, I feel when she gave me away. She just lost it. And I have faith, yes, but my faith is thin these days. My heart hurts these days for a world with Mothers like this and a world that makes it ok.

I have felt the sting of her rebuke at birth, before for that matter. I was there, listening within her. My mind blocked it, but my body remembered and showed it to me. Beyond my own delusions. I have lived a long time without her. Yes, I have. But I guess the child within wanted to try one last time to beat on that dead heart of hers and see if my mama would come back to life.

I am just feeling discouraged. I’ll go to bed and tomorrow I’ll feel better. I wish to forget. Maybe God will erase my mind and body while I sleep so I don’t have to feel it anymore. It would feel so nice to feel special, and happy again. This has really been a downer, looking at her shit on me. I value my reputation and she got me all wrong. I am a good person raised by a stranger she does not know. So how can she get me at all? She has not read about adoptees and there issues, how can she understand like that?

I know one thing she does not take constructive criticism well, but what do you expect from an only child. I am an only child, but Mama Jean did not let me be selfish and taught me to think of others. I have taken it a bit far, trying to do it right to make her proud. But its time for me to let my Mamas shit go. That is lame. And I just want to feel better. Looking at her and how she treats me, is so hard. It is hared to hear how she treats my sisters too. They don’t deserve that. They deserve a Mama full of love, not some control freak who has to have it her way or the highway. I played it her way, I had no choice.

But now it is time for my way, Gods way.


My body aches these days. 

My body aches these days. My muscles are sore and it’s hard to do things. But I have struggled to do things for years. It’s just getting to be harder to push myself these days. My body, my machine this spirit lives in is tired. 

And time has become more important. I seem to realize that there is a limit and I do not want to leave things unsaid. Just in case. It has scared me to think of living this world and not having said the hard things to give contrast for the good things to pop. My truth is important so folks can see what being adopted meant to me. An adoptee. 

It has been many things. But as of late I have shred the hard things. Because folks these days seem to only want to hear good with so much bad going on. But if we can not face those demons and look I’m in the eye, how can we change this world for the better? How can we rise above? 

We all have a purpose here. Mine is being adopted, a daughter, a mother, a wife and a friend. I am a preacher, an artist, a chef, a singer, a teacher as well as a learner. I quilted and seeed cloths for my children. I taught children how to sew. I have taught children who are problem kids with hard lives to live. My purpose has encompasse many things. 

It’s like gods prodding me. To speak up. With a hot iron of spirit that makes me yalp my truth. God has squeezed me and I have wept. Seeing the truth of my mother. For I had hoped she wanted me back. I had hope she would see the blessing in me if she knew. My love. My pain being without her. 

I feel my time is set. And lately it feels like it is close. Could be years away. But that is not what I feel. It’s like I tie up loose ends with those I love. And yes. It scares the hell out of me. Guess that’s good. I surely don’t need to take hell with me. 

My post are pointed and straight as I can make them so folks can see straight into my broken heart and the broken heart of god within me. For a world gone mad. That jerks babies around and throw them here and there as if God is mistaken.  I feel gods pain about this. And god wants me to share it with the world to try to get through. Like an arrow sent into the world each child has a mark. And my mark is to bring awareness to bring change. 

My Mama says I need help. Funny. I have needed help my whole life. Thank God for Mama Jean who showed up to help me. It was not easy. My pain of loss was an aweful burden for her to carry. And she did not deserve that. But she took it just the same. God within her showed up. 

She blessed me with her love and care. She made me feel special. Wanted. Accepted. But there was one who did not do that. And that pain haunted me my whole life. And it made me sick and discouraged, not wanting rejection again I became a people pleaser. Not knowing what my pain was. Everyone told me I was fine. I was blessed to have a mommy. But I kept thinking Bout my first mommy. 

It pledged me, the questions without answers. As I watch girls with their Mothers. And how they matched. It hurt me I could not have that too. Why did not my hearts desire matter? To her, my own mommy? I thought surely she made a mistake. Surely she was sorry. But no. She was not. And I wept when I finally swallowed the pill of her truth. I wept so hard as I faced it. What my heart knew but my mind do not want to see and believe. 

For without her there to show me, I made up another story. One where she was eating for me to return. Where we would cry and greive our loss together. But that is not what her story was at all. She saw a mistake each time she looked at me. Her heart closed to god in me. Her heart cold towards the gift god sent to her. 

And my body aches I feel because my own mother thinks such things of her own flesh. And I see that I carry that pain. And I see now that that pain is leaving after telling how I feel and felt all those years. She did not want me to out her. She did not want to know. But I did. I needed to know what my mind had hidden from me so I could heal. 

I want others to heal too. So I write. Time is of the essence. For I know not the hour God will call me. And this report is needed. My words are needed. So I must tell my story howeve tragic it is to hear or twisted it whatever. It’s mine. So I must tell the truth. 

So here it is. On this blog for all to see what I felt and thought. How twisted around I was and am by a thing we call love. 

Thank you for diving deep with me today
God bless you. 

When a child is adopted, a child dies…

Being adopted means that a child is born, but an adopted child is born to two families. One person is the new parent waiting for the child, and one is letting that child go. And it is a death of sorts for all.

When we plant a seed into the ground, many things have to happen for that seed to grow. And one of them is death, and in that dying, the seed is born, as the earth presses on it, and causes it to burst open. Like a live man buried in the ground, it digs to find the light. It soaks up the minerals from the soil and oxygen that is trapped inside of the earth, and sucks up the water around it, it grows towards the light. And I was entombed the day my Mother left me, buried under whatever she had thought about me. And her thoughts were not good, let me tell you. How do I know? Well, she did not keep me, that is what I see. And I ask myself why? What is the purpose of God sending children to woman that don’t want them? Does that sentence even make sense reading it? No, it does not. For as we watch nature, we see an order, and if the order is that children must go? Well, then everyones got to do that? Or none of us, Is what I see? Or we can do better by handling children with more care? Instead of just throwing them here and there and letting them reel from it.

One thing must die before a new thing can be. And the day I was born, I died and was reborn to another I did not come from. That’s a pretty good calisthenics trick folks. That is a pretty big pill to shove down my throat.  And for me, and my Mothers, we had unfinished business with each other that needed to be tended to. Story lines change in this life. Like you don’t get on a train and just keep going to the same place, you get on new trains and you go to new places. And our journey is changing and growing. Because I have grown, and also come home, so, our relationship needs to change and evolve too. As all things do.

The day I was born was the beginning of a new life for me. One full of love,  or so they all say. But life is a two edged sword, and things cut each of us, and parents are not the ones who call the shots for there kids, they do what is within them to do. And that doing is not the same for each parent. But the day I was born another thing happened, and it was a sad moment for us all. You say, why would you be sad? Or why would all of you be sad? Because one woman got the child that God sent to another, which meant God had to take care of the gift the best way now, not the way in which God had intended it to be.

Now sadness is not such a bad energy. It is like when you go to shoot that arrow and miss the mark, you wanted. Its like darn. But most of us, just get another arrow and shoot again? Well, God had to shoot again. The woman God sent the gift to, refused it, and thus used her free will card. But what she did not know was the true cost of that move. What did it mean to relinquish me to me? How did that feel? She did not know, until I came clean.

Here is what it meant to me-

  1. Goodbye
  2. Death of a dream
  3. Sadness
  4. Loss
  5. Confusion (on my part)
  6. Anger (which is pains reaction)
  7. Penned up grief ( which was given no place to go for expression) and which was love, and value for the vessel I was made from
  8. I had to learn another Mother, and was way behind other kids, for I did not have the 9 months to learn within her
  9. My body did not respond well to relinquishment, and gave me much grief, as well as Mama Jean.

When a child dies such as I did that day in January. A cold wind brew over my Mothers heart and froze it in time. Me, the child, and she my Mother, there, frozen in time forever in her mind. And she painted a picture in her mind of me. And she sealed that part of herself away there, with me. I felt it my whole life. Her love, her feeling of loss, like a blanket of energy we carried together. How do I know this? WE have many of the same things in common, health issues, like teeth problems, heart palpitations, our demeanor, our strengths, a boldness, and a faith in god, that is a bond we share, in an invisible string that keeps us forever bonded together, though apart. Now, whether she is aware of it or not, I am aware of it, and have seen it in action as I watch her behaviors.

There is a funny thing that happens to a child taken from their Mother, you notice it all.  Relinquishment opens us up like other children are not. Its like you are broken open, and notice all the nuances, that other children and families take for granted. it is a torn in the flesh, that makes you see things others can not.

And I remember walking in the fields near the home I grew up in, and singing to a lady spirit that would meet me there beside the still waters. It was like I was transported into a dream where she was, like one of my angels.  I would sing to her and profess my love to her daily. Her love was the purest of all to me.  And I know that god helped me do that, and was the one who came to me now. And her spirit was strong. I would remember, as my mind would play it back to me what I had experienced within her, and I  would be comforted. She would sing back to me, and my spirit was filled up. God was in her, as she loved me from the place she was. And we longed for each other, she the woman who came to me. And I vowed to come and find her one day. And I prayed God would help me.

You know, dreams are the beginnings of change, and the beginning of getting your desires. I had a dream that I nurtured for my whole life, and prayed for the day when I could meet her to show her the blessing that I was. I thought, surely she had missed it, surely she was upset as I was too? But I felt  God could make a way. And God did.

When a child or other loved one dies, they become entombed within the person, in a place within their minds. A room if you will, that is marked with their name on it, and a do not disturb sign placed to hang on the door knob. Only they can enter there. And we build this place with all of the collected memories we have shared with the person who is now gone. Lovingly we place them inside the room that has been and always will be theirs, but now, it is the only place we can go to meet them, with our memories, we go there to visit. And remember a time when we were connected, one, yet two. My soul road in her body and grew.

But spirits grow, just like children. For children are organic bodies containing spirits, just like we are adult bodies containing spirits.  And spirits are infinite and uncontainable, and they grow. And the body is supposed to work with the spirit within, not dominate the whole thing. As I see it. The spirit within me is God, and God and I are here to live life through this body. My mind is like a hard drive, that stores memories, information, and feelings. It is a switchboard as well. Each one of us is a pungent square of organic matter, cells,codes, DNA, water, bacteria, fat,and spirit, guiding the way. Men call spirit their gut. And they are right. The spirit will get a hold of your gut if your going to miss a turn. It is not about health, it’s about connection, to the spirit within. These are things I have learned being adopted, as I reflect and look over my life, I see these things.

Ok, back to my Story, I’ll write more about that later.

My Mothers entombed me in the rooms they had for me, and for a time, those rooms were very lovely. Even thought I had to grow without my Mama. I worked to show appreciation as best I could.  I found solos in both rooms, as life raged on and around me, sometimes, not making sense at all. My mind in a whirl from over stimulation, by means of taking my Mom, or removing her from me. I would just stare, and my mind would wander around, just blowing this way, and that. I felt like leaf in the proverbial wind , but more like a tree, with no roots, floating above and around everyone. Not connected, but rather, disconnected, excluded, on the outside looking in at all the fun that seemed to be within. It was as if I floated through life entombed in two bubbles created by two woman, trying to protect me, from what they could not protect me from. I experienced it as a bubble child. A weirdo, a freak.

I knew I did not speak like others, yes, I knew. But no one really told me, I was messed up. I wandered from special class to special class, trying to learn as much as my whirling mind could stand, to help me be the best daughter I could to make my Mothers proud. All little girls want to make their Mommy’s proud, why would a whirly twirly girl like me be different? I was the same inside, it just didn’t come out right, cuz my body had something happen to it. I spent a lot of time at the doctors office with Mama Jean trying to figure out what was wrong?  Yeah, wrong with me. I would get sick a lot. And as I look back, it was a coping mechanism, my body was mourning the loss, and it did not take to the separation well. My mind was strong, and I would push it down, as doctors aided me with drugs to help. Mama Jean spent much time with me, which built empathy towards me empathy that Mama Linda was not learning. Because I was not with Mama Linda.

Mama Jean watched what relinquishment did to my body. She did not consciously know it. Or did she? But she tended it, the best she could, considering she did not make me. What was the right thing to do? Why is she sick? What am I doing wrong? And they all knew, deep down, I feel that I did not take well to the move. I would rather sleep, because when I slept, there was no pain, and I could go to her in my dreams, where I would love her, and she would love me. I would check out in class, anywhere, and go there, to be with her, and remember who I was, and who I came from. Her words of instructions to my sisters, were memorized and assimilated within me. I fought with Mama Jean, because she did not do it right? Or the way my body remembered. But we did manage to find respect. She was the boss of me. But not my inner world, no she was not the boss there.

In my inner world, no one was boss, except God. And God of course was loving and fun, and there was plenty of everything there. And mama Linda, but I did not know her name, it was just Mama. Many times Mama Jean would be busy, to busy and not able to nurture me as I needed and wanted? Well, wanting for children is needing. Kids just want love, and they do what they have to to get it. I escaped inside. In a world I made, where it was safe, and loving and calm, and fun, and I met my Mother there. She adored me there. She loved me there. but it was just us there, and I wanted to know my sisters and brothers too.

And as I grew, I went to that place less. My dragon went with me, as I pretended, to cope with a loss no one wanted to see, alone, with my imaginary Mama. Trying to make sense of this woman calling herself my Mother. I know, it sounds so cold. I am not cold, I love her very much. But she speaks another language than my clan, and it has taken me years and years to even accept her ways. Many of which are not like my ways. And to try and find the love in many things that have caused me pain. Sounds like Stockholm’s syndrome? Hmmm? Yep.

I was entombed by two woman. Both with their own stories, which was quite daunting if you will pause and think about it. People know when a missing person is still alive. We see the reports all the time, a mother just knows and keeps searching for that child and finds them. It is part of this bodies on board radar system. I was no different, I knew my Mother still lived.  As I grew, my bubbles had to grow, but my Mothers could not allow that. There were strict guidelines to follow. And there was no way back, just yet. And,  I must meet Mama linda in my mind and I must live with Mama Jean in reality. And I did my best, I would get a bit restless and misbehave now and again, but you can understand, now can’t you? Seeing that I loved them both and wanted to play nice. But they were being a bit selfish, both of them. By expecting me to tow this line, carry this cross, alone.

And these last years, I basically have been circling and trying to figure out a way, to break out of my bubbles. But the way would have to be radical, and it would change it forever. I would not be able to go back, and would have to confront them on it. I would have to face it, alone, face them alone, but not completely, remember, God is within. Guiding me as well, showing me how to cope, calling me into a new dream so I could cope with her loss, my first love was gone and yet she still lives. And I had loved her so, I sent her loving energy as I swirled inside her belly. I danced with her, I sung with her, trying to make the words. And when I was born, I yelled so loud, and I am sure I was trying to tell her not to do this! I loved her and was a gift, but she did not understand, for I had no words yet to tell her so, I was just a baby. She did not understand, Mommy!!!!  I cried inside me and I cried and  yelled at the top of my lungs! Mommy!!! Dont go! I love you, I came to love you! Let me love you! Dont do this to us! Please! Please! But she was soon gone.

Later as Mama Jean would tell me, as Uncle John and she looked on, I would push myself up and over. New borns do not do those things, and I know that I was trying to get to her,  my Mama, to stop this insanity, to tell her she got it wrong, all wrong. But I had no words to describe it to her, my voice would not work, my limbs would not take me were I wanted to go, to her arms, to smell her sent, to suckle from her, to gaze into her eyes, as all children do. But what could I do, my course was set, as I grappled with the white hot sting of her rebuke. I was stunned. I was struck, it was like Harry Potters mark, a forever indelible mark was on me. Rewrite, assignment change, and no instructions, no goodbyes, no comfort, no comprehension of what just happened to me?

I was frozen in time. Encapsulated. Like an egg around my brain, and it would take me years to peck my way out. And gain the strength to speak and sing my song of sadness, to make folks see what it really was like for me. An Adoptee.

I don’t know about my  sister, they don’t speak of it. I imagine they are escaping, and not able to break out of the shell yet, but I am going to chirp and sing, so they will keep pecking to gain the strength to do so.

This last year, I flung that room my Mothers had blocked for there eyes only. I ran into those dirty, dusty rooms of consciousness, and blew it out of the water. I cleaned that shit up, turned them upside down, I imagine much like I felt? Not what I consciously intended? But that is what I have learned is that the force in which we react, is the force in which it will return, it took me years, but this sucker punch has returned. And if I am honest with myself and you, the world, looking on as I strip naked before you and show you my wounds, I would say, I did not want to let go of this boomerang. I held it as long as God would let me. Because I knew it was going to take their breath away, and cause them such pain. Pain, I knew to well. And had endured alone, with god.

Children want to heal, and I am no different. But the way, Mama’s, yes, Mama’s, I am talking to you my darling Mama’s. The way to healing is the high road of truth. And I am here, with my hand outstretched to hold your hands, ever so firmly, so you know, my Love is real. And that it is strong. And that God in me is showing you the way through the darkness I kept from you for so long. The darkness you did not want to see is there, when you turn the light on in an old room, that is for a girl who still lives, but who you thought I was, was not who I am.

And now that those rooms have seen the light of my day. And the curtains have been washed and pressed, and placed on the windows, after the paint I place on the walls is dry, yellow, and fresh flowers have been placed there. All the buggers, and monsters have been run out. I chased them away, I shot them with my truth, we faced it, what we all felt and did not talk about. I forced my way! With God blowing it out of the water through me! God is  God, and God will have his way! And change was the only way to true healing, facing that nasty, cleaning it up, freshening it up. Letting that old story go, sell it, burn it, and rise above it!

I love you both. And I, your daughter, made it back to you Linda! And I made it back to you Jean! I traveled to dark places in your minds and cleaned out what was not really me, but was your dream of me. And now you see me face to face and know, that I am a spirit within this body, that we, three, Mind, body, spirit, are more than a dream, I am a reality, an idea in human form. And God approves of this message, the proof ,because I am here.

And my message to those who hurt too is this, your important, you are here for a reason. Our truth can set others free from having to go through this to live.

Thank you for diving deep with me.

And God bless

Playing the quiet game kept me safe

Growing up as an adoptee for me, meant playing the quiet game. And now that I have stopped playing the quiet game, and I observe the reactions of those closest to me. I see why. I see that what I have to say is especially upsetting to those I thought got me, but they really got who they thought I was. And now that I have let the cat out of the bag? People are pissed, upset, dismayed, angry, want me to shut up, and wish I would go back to playing the silent game again. Those around me have bought the lie I lived, and they have a hard time accepting that I have felt like this forever, but just did not tell them for fear. I feared a rejection again, I feared not getting my needs met, I feared being alone. These are the fears I have identified so far. And God has not given me this spirit of fear, who did?

Well, right now, I see, this world gave it to me the day I was given away like a puppy to a woman my Mother had not even met. And as I lay in a crib, in a house, where my Mothers voice was not, anywhere to be heard, or smelled, I panicked, without words to even tell the one person who showed up to care. And I grew up feeling like a captive to that woman. I grew up feeling like a reject on misfit island.

Sure I had all the trimmings. I had a Daddy, a Mommy, and a nice house, Nana and Papa, and a nice neighborhood, dresses, and food? Why could I not forget the woman who made me? Why was the questions I asked myself when my Adopted Mom would say things she did not realize hurt the hell out of me. I would just watch other families and wonder? Why do some woman keep their kids? Some say they are selfish. And some say it is selfless. There are many who think they know what is best? But all I know is how I feel, and felt about it all. And how confused I grew up trying to heal a hit to my psyche that no one could see.

I hid inside and studied and tried to do the best my body and confused mind could let me. I had speech problems, and by the way my kids treat me, I am very messed up. I could not see it, because my adopted Mom protected me from it. She told me many things to help me feel better about being me, and she instructed me on how to speak, and I didi the best I could, but would invariably say something someone did not like and so it went.

I stuck out. I did not look like my Adopted Mom, so that made it really clear. And we played the roles we were given as a new family. But that model is a very shaky place without truth. I do think it would have been better for my developing brain to receive truth instead of lies or omissions of truth, which is a lie as well. I have had a time trying to really accept what is, and weeding through what they said it was. It has taken me years, like 50 to wake up from this dream that was a bit of a nightmare when one must live the lies told them from strangers.

Adopted parents do not want to think of themselves as strangers. I get it, but you are. You are a stranger body to the child you raise. And your spirits connect, but that is not the only part of us. WE are mind body and spirit. And all parts need truth to be able to stand what life sends our way. I did pretty good with the truth my Adopted Mom wanted me to live. But there came a day when I could not live like that any longer. My internal life expanded beyond her understanding. And so my real truth, the one I held deep down, made its way out of my mouth. And for me, I was relieved. I was not happy with my loved ones reactions, no. Like a gay person standing there trying to explain why I felt like this, was like this, was very naked and ugly to experience. Especially from folks who say they love me and want me happy?

My bio Mom took it the worst. She was totally on her own train when my train wrecked her ride. I spoke the truth she knew deep down, because we share this wound. And unlike me who has been trying to  understand, and to change the lines we read, she did not want to know, how her actions had affected me. She simply did not care. And all I did was show her what she had chosen to forget. I find it really interesting my own child who was a surprise moved up to be with her? It is very interesting and confusing to watch my life fall apart and for my own children to turn away from me.

I was fucked up for sure, if my own kids could not look at me. And I needed to look at that truth, so I could learn and adjust. I need to know why I acted like I did and do.  I do see that I am very psychically disconnected from my gene pool and that when I go to spend time with my  Bio Mom, I do feel better. My body feel better being in her presence for sure. And as any child, I will take any attention I can, if I can not have love.

Playing the quiet game has shown me that I need lots of practice speaking in my own way and not reading or saying things my Mother taught me to stay safe. And it is an adjustment for sure. To stand on my own and not hold onto someone I thought would understand? How could they understand? I played quiet like told, so I pushed it so far down, stuffing, stuffing, stuffing, until there was no more room. And like the closet door, of my pandoras box full of things that were painful and traumatic, it just busted open and poured out, and I could not, and would not stop it.

So now I work to help folks who wish to be truthful and want to be who they are inside and want to be who they are inside and want folks to love past it. I guess I felt like an autistic person, trapped inside a body from another, trained by an indian, just trying to find the words to let me out. Well, change is messy. And so it is. But change must be, for us to learn and grow.

My prayer is that my words could validate your pain. That is is real. And that I your sister and brother here on this planet cares. I do care. I do not want another child to feel like I did. I pray we all can have the courage to speak the truths we hold inside for lack of anyone who can see or wants to see.

You matter. You are here for a reason. Lets make it better. Lets do what we need to do to expose this, so others can avoid it.

That is my prayer.