Loosing your mind is a good thing



IMG_7826Loosing your mind is a good things. And here is why? The mind, the mammalian mind, is limited, it is like a hard drive, a storage unit to help us live, but there is a world wide hard drive, like the internet, God has all the info we need. So loosing your mind, letting what you think about it go, telling your truth, leaves room for God to work in our lives. When we identify our own thinking, our own short fallings, our own crazy, confused and painful experiences and the thoughts that went with that, we transcend those very things. Its like it busts it up, it breaks you free.

When we realize that we don’t have all the info, and when we understand that this world is so complex, and that it has intelligence, beyond what our little minds can think. WE have connected to the vine, and will begin to see things start moving, especially shit, shit we have held onto for years. I believe God called me to air my shit on this blog, to show folks the way to get real, is to let go of what we thought about it, tell the pain about it, and be vulnerable, because we are vulnerable. To act like we have it all together is psychosis.

Definition of psychosis
plural psychosesplay \-ˌsēz\
: a serious mental illness (such as schizophrenia ) characterized by defective or lost contact with reality often with hallucinations or delusions

Now I would say, Now, as I look at myself, I was psychotic before I spoke my truth. I had been cut off from reality as it truly was. I had lived years without my Mother. And I had told myself lots of lovely things to pass my time. Like she really wanted me back, was one of them. I told myself she cared for me and wanted, needed to have me back. Not knowing her story of why she obviously was acting like she did not, when I came back to knock on her door. I can see now, that that was my truth, until I saw my Mothers truth. And it has taken me 24+ years to come awake to it. I did not want to believe it. But it stares me straighten my soul now, I look at it, and I choose to love it. For I know God is there. But I will not say I like it. No, I do not like it.

What kind of daughter would not want her Mother? Like that is kind of a normal, Children want their Mothers, and Mothers have to do a lot to make a daughter cut them off. But I am long suffering, and I came to love her, and I am not off course at all. I do love her. I love her enough to bust her chops and show her who I really am. That I am a spirit, the same spirit that is within her. And I still do not know how I came to be. She did elude to the fact that she hit my father over the head with a flashlight after conceiving me in the back of a car. And that kind of sounds like she was not completely on board with he experience. I do not know if he pushed himself onto her, I hope not. But by the way she acts, it kind of makes me think he did. That maybe she got in over her head with him. I have been told of how he was, and I can see that. It hurts my heart to think that is the way I came to be. Cuz no one wants a child conceived like that, and it make me sad to think so.

But, these are still stories I tell myself, until she tells me the truth. And I am swirling around and around, trying to ground myself without it. I do not know why it matters so much, but it does. And seeing that your Mothers struggles with you, is not a fun place to go. It is not like Disneyland at all, more like being black, being judged for your skin, for your fathers actions. It is a prejudice that is not really on the radar these days, but its there, running in the background of life. Woman throwing away their babies because of their fathers. I can say this, my children, are my children. And no man will make me walk away from them. I may let them walk away from me and my choices, but I always have them inside my hearts. I can not help some of the things I have done, believe me, if I could, I would have avoided many of them. But many I would avoid, were the very things that brought them into my life, so, it gets tricky, trying to be God.

But these minds of ours, so strong, can get us into trouble. But trouble is why Jesus came, right? All have fallen short. And grace is for the taking, grace means we are all learning, all coming of age, all transcending our missed marks. This world is a spiritual class room. It is a place we forget that we are pieces of God, and get our head into the game, and then take them out again, and give those minds to God, for expansion, for edification, for connection. I feel like God ride within, observing, and that at some point, God within, gets ahold of us. And when we submit to that God within, begins to teach us. As we accept that we are the trinity, we can see, God is all and all is God. We see God everywhere and we see that we all have a sovereign duty to speak the truths we know, so that folks can learn and grow. Truth is subjective to the one who experienced it, and everyones truth is different.

My truth was very different from my Mothers truth of me. And my truth of her, was very different than my truth of her. But does that mean we must  just throw in the towel? Especially as christians, can we just block folks? Is that in the bible? Block your brother or sister? No, it is not there. So we must go forward and listen to the spirit within, and set the flesh down and let spirit have a talk to it. Connections is what’s going on her, getting past the packages we travel in, these earthen vessels, carry very precious cargo. When we realize that, we see God in everyone, just that some are at different stages than others, and our truth is like a ladder, or a hand, reaching out, to pull them up or over across the abyss that is between us.

Corinth 13:12 KJ For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know, even as also I am known.

It speaks before this of putting away childish t things. Stories that are not grounded in truth are childish. Or more like child like. We play pretend. But when the truth of a matter such as mine, comes barreling down the smoking gun of your Mothers truth, it takes the breath away, it makes you stagger for a bit from the blow. One day as it hit me, she had said something to me on the phone. That she was not wanting me, that my truth was not hers. That statement, those words stabbed at my truth like a hot knife, it was like molten lava over me, it was white hot truth. It began to sink in, she did not feel the same as me. And It would take me days to process what she had said, as it sunk into my head. That day after I had called her, we were still talking at the time, but I think this kind of stopped it. She saw my truth as well. She saw that I had held hope for her.  And that I had hoped and believed she did truly want me back in her life. A few days later I fell apart on the bathroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I rocked myself or comfort as it sunk in, that I was wrong. I wonder if she did the same? or was her heart to hard by now? Had her truth hardened her heart beyond God repair? Now, To know me, is to know this is not behavior that I engage in often. I was dealing with the truth like no other, white hot truth, hard truth. From the lips of the woman I loved. Was as hard as a sledged hammer to the brain. It was like she took my blanket of comfort from my very hands that day. She stole my precious dream, the one I told myself or comfort, away in one felled swoop. And my breath was gone, as I was crumpled on the floor of the bathroom trying got grapple alone with it all.

But loosing that mind of mine was what was needed. Why? Because that was precisely what God was doing. Prying my hands from a story, and my Mothers from hers. And I feel, call us to put those hands into each others, as God instructs, we must practice our Christianity. As we throw our bottle rockets and they blow up in our faces, and the smoke billowed, we were forging some thing new, and destroying something old. I don’t think she understood that and thought I was a bit mad. And I was mad. I had thought she wanted me back and was just feeling guilty, but she did not want me back, because she did not see herself in me. And we all know she is there in me, DNA proves it, when you hear me and her together, it is so surreal, it is so crazy. I leave her house and it sounds like she has possessed me and speaks from my mouth. I would say it is comforting, its like she is in the car with me. And that is really all a daughter wants from a Mother. Her time and her care. Right? Why should I be any different?

The stories we tell ourselves are comfortable. We fashion them to comfort us. But, the do not serve when comfort keep us in the comfort zone. God calls us higher, always. God calls our souls to dig deeper. And God was calling me to love her deeper than I had, past her truth. For beyond her truth and beyond my truth is Gods truth about it. And Mama Jean was a person too, a part of this situation now and had been since the day Mama Linda signed me over to her care. And this was just childish to not proceed to allow Gods love to be seen through us both. I had picked up many thoughts about it along my life path. And those things had to be told to Mama Linda and Mama Jean for us to adjust to what was really here. It needed to be spoken, so we could shed that story and embrace a new one. One of restoration.  It is not easy. But when you get the call, its best to obey. Even when your Mothers are comfortable with the story as it is.

I hope my story helps you understand. It is complex, yes. And there are many sides to this story. So it gets kind of confusing and that is precisely what I am trying to show you, my life is so complicated, with so many folks to learn so you can understand why I am the way I am.


Thank you for your time. Thank  you for coming here and reading my story and my babbling. I hope my truth gives you strength as you face  your own truth. I hope you find the comfort you need in the truth and that you will muster the courage to speak it. Your voice is one voice, but you are here for a reason, don’t take your pearls to the grave, share them for all to learn.

Thank you for diving deep with me today.

God bless.


Being me

Being me is not easy in this world. And that is not ok. Being adopted and having your life torn apart so you can live and breath here without the sigma of being an illegitimate person is just ludicrous. And being adopted has altered my family and myself so much that we struggle to even understand each other.


People have been told many things about what Adoption is. I hope to dispel those ideas with my words here, from an Adoptee Affected by her Adoption.


Thank you or you time and you willingness to read my story as it unfolds.IMG_5455


Adoptions time is over. Time for the Real Dogs to come and show you how not to do it! Unite Now!

Hey, I love calling peps out. It seems I came to be pushy. Can I help you push a button or two? Let me know. This whole thing is bullshit and needs to stop right now. And we need to unit to stop it. WE have suffered for the sins of our fathers and mothers for long enough and enough is enough! The world needs to change and we are the ones who need to let them know.

I need stories, feelings, people who want to make this happen in the Big way we deserve to serve it to them.

Send me your stories and I’ll post them here, or post them here, whatever peels your banana. But get them here! I want all to see our numbers.


I have a dream of a better story ending- Adoptees


It is rough hearing that your child that you thought you so lovingly gave up for adoption, didn’t see it that way. And it’s hard to be the child having to do that. And we struggle to be seen and heard. But I have a dream, and I have it in my sights. I wanted you to know, how it went. And we haven’t even gotten to the best part, cuz we are stuck here. Our stories needed to be told to each other. So, that we both can move on. I am tired of being shoed away, stamped not good enough, not nice enough, not a convenient time, and wrong all together. Accept me, all of me, even the ugly parts? I know we don’t understand each other, but another raised me, and so I turned out ok. I turned out amazing.

You just can’t see me, because your thoughts are in the way of who I really am. It didn’t turn out the way you thought it would or should. But I did turned out. I thought the least you could do is listen and witness it, it’s not over now, but it’s not fair to turn away at the ugly parts. You miss the impact of the ending without it’s challenges.

Just getting real. It’s a bit of work, when you hide who you were for years cuz you thought if your own Mom didn’t want you, it wasn’t safe to trust anyone here. Being adopted means that you make a lot of choices without your Mom along side. Being adopted means that you have two Moms. And for years, I have lived with the truth, and not been able to proclaim it with the love inside my heart. Why? For fear of being rejected again, my mind not quit up to speed for lack of processing a BIG DEAL called relinquishment.

I have been to many councilors who profess to help me, I paid them to help me. I did not really get the help I needed. Non of them could see that I was reeling from my adoption-relinquishment trauma. Why? Because most folks say I had no trauma. But they are not here with me. Those people who do not recognize my trauma, you know, loosing my Mom at 2 days old and not grieving her loss, my loss. And that fact right there has cause me to be stuck in a feed back loop I will call it.

The loop is this: My Mom didn’t want me so who else would? And with out truth, my truth unedited, I stayed there for 52 years. I stayed in that loop for years until I just blurted it out, all of it. My pain exploded onto the pages of my blog in random and erratic force. And it was scary to do so. It meant that I was blowing my cover. My pristine beautiful lie. For I did as I was told and I believed what everyone told me in their well meaning ways to explain what had happened and why I was now being raised by someone other than my Mom. But those explanations were not what I experienced each day. They did not explain away my love for a woman I only met once. And so I kept going, looking, searching for answers that these explanation did not satisfy.

My Mother could not know that fact at age 25 when she relinquished me. That is not what she was told. But the fact is that what they told her was what they told her, not what I experienced as truth. And it is my desire to be authentic, and me. So, I must tell my truth, however painful it is to hear for both my Mothers. I must be free from these opposing stories that do not match my experience. I do not desire to upset folks. But I must be congruent with my own narrative.

After purging myself of these old stories, and also of my own tragic story, a new story emerges from the ash. A story that is exciting to me. A new beginning for us all, for us three, my mothers and me. For as I look again I see another story beyond all of ours. A story of redemption, and regeneration, and love. I see how two woman in the 60’s came together, even though they never met.

You see in 1963 it was a hard road to keep a child not produced inside of the matrimonial boundaries. And I was not conceived under that boundary. My father had gone into the Army when my Mother found out she was pregnant with me. And she was separated from her husband of which my last name is.

Why is it frustrating being an Adoptee?

We who are blessed to be called adopted have a lot on our plates. Our starts are kind of like false starts. They feel like we start and then the script is thrown out and we start again with a whole new library, book, characters in the play.

For me, which is who I know. I was raised in a time when adoption was so secretive. I was adopted privately. I was stripped of my original heritage so that I could fit into my new family. The society I grew up in did not support me staying with the woman who created me. It was not safe for me to stay, I would have carried a stigma and grew up in that stigma.

New’s flash. I still did, just somewhere other than with my family of origin. That is the new flash that no one wants to hear. Everyone in this lovely triad wants to say it ok. To do this. Strip little US citizens, little russians, little you name it of who they came in as. Our costumes ripped from us. We have been recased, by a society that feels the need to only have legit people here. Those who come in other ways than what the churches have deemed safe, and right, and pure. I did not fit that criteria.

So, I was a misfit? Or society said I was. I was a square peg that landed in a round hole? God was off his game the day I got put there?

God was not on the throne when I snuck into my moms tummy?

God did not approve of how I got here?

God said it was a ok if someone else raised me?

God wanted me to not know my family of origin?

Maybe my family was sick, or retarded?

God made my Mommy not want me?

God told my Mommy I was not hers and that God had made a mistake by placing me in the wrong womb?

People look at me. People say things to me about my views about being adopted. My kids do. People who have had their Mothers for their entire life have spoken to me. My kids thankful will not know first hand how it feels. But they only stand in horror watching a woman from where they came, struggle.

It makes them made to see me so upset. They have told me to forget. They have told me to stop. They have told me a lot of things that I simply could not do, or I would have.

My Adopted Mom. I only say this to help you understand who I am talking about. It’s crazy being adopted, kind of like divorce. My B mom divorced me and my A mom married me.

And my B mom and I have a lot of unfinished business. We have been in touch since 1994. And it’s been rough. My B mom swallowed a lot of ideas that do not match up with my experience. And it has taken a toll on  us.

I work to free us from this, but alas, no one has read a book about it. In a family of book readers. In a family of book readers? And my B mom didn’t even plan for or think oh, she may gave thoughts of her own. She may want to come meet me? No she did not plan well. Truth. Not mean, just fact.

Now, a lot of people have a lot of ideas of what Adoption is like. We want it to be good. But will we achieve that with people like me coming out of the wood work? I mean if I was multiplied me by say a million? Cuz that’s who’s out there. And the only thing keeping them silent is the fear of rejection.

What adoptees have forgotten is they have survived rejection. They have lived with the facts I state here. But society keeps painting over our wound, calling it this or that.

I stand here today, and forever to state that we the Adoptees, we the one in the arena know how it feels. And society has silenced us for long enough. My B Mom wants me to agree with her? Yes she does.

She wants me to see this act as loving. I guess it was. She in 1963 many years beyond Moses, had to float me down the river to safety. I am appalled at our lack of ability to separate ourselves from it to see the truth. And I am compelled to sound the bell and wake you all up.

The adoption industry is a multi billion dollar industry. And I have payed the price for it’s lack of consideration of My CIVIL RIGHTS IN THIS GREAT USA?

How can we go on like this? WE can give blacks what is theres, we can give illegals rights? Now, we as adoptees are going to have to stand up and ask for ours it is clear.

Like MLK said, they will ignore us for as long as they can. We can bring awareness. Will not awareness and having voice help? yes it will.

Sign my petition. Help the silenced slaves. If we can not even have what is ours how about you? maybe your next? 


This is a Blemish upon society

Ok, now that is strong right? What do I mean? Blemish?

Let me ask you, Why should I settle? Why should I settle for what they gave me? Why am I not satisfied? Why can I not let this go?

Do you know what it is like to loose someone?

Do you know what it is like to no know who’s eyes you have?

Do you know what it is like to not know why you act the way you do?

Do you know what it is like to not feel safe to talk about a woman who gave you up to the woman who adopted you?

Do you know your family?

Do you know what it is like to be in a family built on illusion?

Do you know what it like to live that illusion, with a secret love for a woman no one likes? Because she gave you up?

Do you know what it feels like to spend years thinking about a person, who when you searched didn’t want you still?

Do you know what it is like to find out your Birth Mother kept you from your siblings?

Do you know what it is like to be with out proper documentation? Living life like a health crap shoot?

Do you know what it like to have your Adopted Mother ask you what is wrong with you when you act like you do? And what it feels like not really having an answer to defend yourself?

Do you know what it like to have a secret love, you can only share with an adoptee?

Welcome to my world.




I feel those who do not sign my petition, have something to hide.