I’m having some “issues” lately. Well not really lately since they have been slowly working their way to the surface for 13 years now, I guess lately they have just pushed past the last wall standing.
I haven’t been honest with anyone. Not even here where I proclaim to the world that this is MY space and you can all go to hell with the Bastard Fairies. My GP thinks I have PTSD. I have been heavily medicated since January, anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, sleeping pills etc. I know I need to deal with the reason for it head on but I just can’t. Dealing with it means walking away from a support system I trust and trying to trust one that I don’t feel worthy of being in. I can’t talk to the adoptee bunch about Justin because if I do I fear being promptly put in my place and I am afraid to talk to the mom bunch about it because it is just too raw and I am not sure if I can put myself out there on a mom level right now. I don’t see the moms as my peers, I see them as, well, moms. A title I don’t think I deserve to hold.
There is a big part of me that believes all the shit the social wrecker put in my head. I feel guilty for my girls, what right do I have to raise them at all when I couldn’t raise my son? I feel guilty about how I have mistreated the Big Girl because of that and I feel guilty that the Little Girl is here with me when her siblings didn’t get their Mommy all the time.
I am afraid to say anything about it to almost everyone I know because I never know who will give me a hug and who will give me “the look”, that dreaded look of disgust that says it all. “How could you do that to your own child after living it yourself?” I never made an “adoption plan”, my plan was to raise my son. That plan was also yanked out of my hands because of health issues beyond my control, mental health issues brought about because I am ADOPTED. I was weak, easy prey, a brood mare who spit out a pretty little “Hitler Baby”, blond and blue, cute as a button and smart as a whip. The kind of child that people pay the big bucks for and all they had to do was beat me down a bit and he was all theirs, for free.
So how do I talk to people about it when they obviously detest the type of person I am? How do I ask for help easing my pain when the people I should trust I can’t and the people I don’t trust are the ones I most want acceptance and empathy from? How do I manage to force myself out of bed each day knowing that there is a ghost baby waiting just outside my line of sight ? How do I sleep knowing he will tear me from my nightmares with his mournful cries of “Mommy”?
I force myself out of bed because the Little Girl needs to be fed. I lie awake at night watching shit like Nancy Grace and Golden Girls reruns until my mind is so numb and my eyes so heavy I can pass out and not think about it for an hour or two. It really doesn’t do any good. Every night he is there waiting for me, waiting to call me from my slumber and have me tearing around the house trying to find him to offer some comfort. Days are no better, he is there, watching out of the corner of my eye, sometimes laughing but more often crying or begging with looks and toddler babbles.
Some days I can remember that he isn’t three anymore, he is 15. That isn’t any easier either. I scan the faces of young boys at the mall. I troll social networking sites like Nexopia hoping to see my face. I look at his home on Google Maps, then moving out to his neighbourhood and the local schools, imagining that every person they caught on camera is him. I play little games in my head where I try to think what he might look like, piecing together his toddler face with his 7 year old face then trying to add bits of his father and I into the fantasy image. I sit at my table and whisper through complete conversations with an empty chair, trying to hear a young man’s voice answer me from the fantasy image in my mind.
I take my meds religiously out of fear, fear that I will lose it if the numbness is lost and fear that I will go completely crazy if I don’t take them. I refuse therapy for it because I don’t trust myself to deal with it in depth just yet. The worst part lately is that I finally had someone within reach who I honestly felt could listen to me and be my rock in the male way I need but he’s too unbalanced right now to even hang out with me, let alone hold me while I sob for a lost child. I know there are others who can offer that but I need that trust factor and for many years there has only been one man I totally trust. I’m starting to think that I am so broken men can smell it like a dog smells fear and they all have to either use it to control and hurt me or use it as a reason to head for the hills.
I’m sure this is all just rambling nonsense but who cares? This is MY space after all and if I want to ramble on like a lunatic hey, so be it.