Family bonds have never meant a whole lot to me. I guess you could say that losing my adoptive mother at 14 and then having her entire family walk out of my life showed me that families are about as solid as a house of cards. I learned early that my acceptance was conditional; as long as I didn’t show my “bad blood” I was welcome but as soon as my pain and grief started showing through I was no longer welcome within the family fold. I had always thought this was because I was adopted, not born, into the family. Well colour me stupid, I was wrong. Even people with whom I share blood can, and do, walk away from me as easily as the adopted family did.
The biggest struggle in my life is feeling disposable. I wait for people to leave me, not for people to love me. It’s ok, save the awwws and poor dears, I long ago learned to accept it even if it stings. Every relationship in my life is viewed as temporary because all of them have been temporary and if I go around thinking “this person might be the one who stays” the pain of rejection becomes too much to bear. Stupidly, I allowed myself to believe that one relationship was permanent, simply because it’s the one relationship that is universally accepted as almost always being that way… My relationship with my natural mother. Obviously it wasn’t considered permanent on her end or I wouldn’t be pouring my heart out to a machine, now would I?
I’m not sure when the real troubles started but I feel like she started withdrawing around the time that I started being more involved with adoptee rights. When I was getting ready to leave for New Orleans in 2008 she would quickly end our conversations if the protest was brought up. Same thing for Philadelphia in 2009. There were no comments on any photos I posted and not even a “How was the flight?” during conversations. I quickly learned to keep my adoption antics to myself but the conversations rapidly decreased in number. Over the past year there has been next to no contact between us other than a very occasional comment on facebook and those have never been made to me directly, rather they have been made to others in regard to something I may have said. My breaking point came last week, or should I say that it came on my birthday but wasn’t articulated until last week. I’ve never been a real birthday person. I live to show others a good time on their special day but mine was never really special and I long ago stopped hoping anyone would make a big deal out of it. Bastards just don’t get super duper special birthdays in my world. Even though my expectations are low I do expect that the other person who shared that day with me will acknowledge it. This year it didn’t happen. No call, no card, no gift (rofl @ gift as though I get those), no email, no facebook message, not even a damned wall post. I won’t lie, I was hurt and angry. Last year I got a message two days late, this year I got nothing. Oh well, maybe next year? Not if I can help it.
Last week I was trolling her facebook page out of boredom and an inane need to feel connected to her life even though I have obviously been shut out. Then I saw IT. A happy birthday wall greeting from my mother to… my sister’s friend. Uh, what? No really? WTF? Oh yes, there it is in all it’s sappy fucking glory. She took the time to write on the wall of a girl my sister is friends with but couldn’t muster up 30 seconds of her life to say it to me. Once again I am disposable, rejected, unloved and unwanted. I wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen and shake a bitch while yelling “What the hell is wrong with you that I matter so damn little? Is it me? Am I really that unlovable? That intolerable? That horrid of a person and daughter that you ignore the day you brought me into this world???” The little girl inside of me cried and the adult inside of me raged. Now I just feel numb. That is my mother. I rented her womb for 10 months. She literally made me who I am. She gave me away and then 34 years later she cast me aside. Happy Birthday indeed. Today I am glad for my fake birth certificate, I’d hate for anyone to know I was created by such a cruel and cold person.
I am so sorry…
*sigh* I will never understand moms who can’t/won’t embrace their children in reunion.
Happy Birthday…I often wonder what my bmom thinks about every year when the Halloween decorations start filling stores. Because I was born on Halloween…and the world won’t let her forget that, even though she apparently has forgotten me. I’m trying to find my two adopted sons’ families…because I don’t want them to feel all alone in the world the way I sometimes do. But birthdays remind us that we are here, and even if she doesn’t want to wish you a happy one, I do. We are all here for a purpose and so I’m glad you are here to fulfill yours.
Well hello friends  I never really meant to stop blogging here, but I was stalled in my weight loss journey and then I gave up blogging for a while.