Diary of an Abandoned Abandoner.

When adoptees surrender.

Substance or appearance. What really matters? September 24, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 11:28 am

I’m a big fan of conducting social experiments. Earlier in the summer I went to a local mall and walked into three “high end” stores wearing a pair of jeans, t-shirt, flip flops and carrying a knock off name brand bag. I was not offered any assistance despite picking up numerous items and being in each store for a full ten minutes each. A week later I went into the same stores again, this time wearing clothing with obvious designer labels showing. I was asked if I needed help within seconds of entering each store and was practically doted on the entire time. Interesting.

My next “experiment” was at a coffee shop near my school. The first time I walked in after a rough night with the girl, hair a mess, no makeup, rumpled clothes. I was treated rather rudely, no small talk, almost rushed out the door and my cappuccino was not terribly pretty. A week later I went in again this time with makeup on, hair done, wearing more business like attire. The same person helped me as before but this time I was chatted up and walked out with a cappuccino that was very pretty, complete with delicate leaves carved into the foam. Interesting.

Two weeks ago I decided to broaden my experiment and chose an online dating site to do so. The store clerks could have been having bad days and that would explain why I was treated badly but online there are more people viewing me and we all know people put on their best front when utilizing online dating sites. I took the pictures off the profile and made sure that my description, while honest, was very minimal. No responses for 14 days. Today I went back and put up an unflattering picture. In the five minutes since I have received four new messages and three chat requests. The content has not been changed. I have stated nothing about myself beyond basic physical characteristics and the main content is somewhat surly, bordering on rude with a bit of sarcasm. Interesting.

In a week I will put up more flattering photos. Anyone want to take a guess as to how many replies I get then? The next week I will take down all the photos and update the content to show who I really am and the week after that I will put the photos back on. I am very interested to see what kind of responses I get based on photos and content. I suspect that when the pictures are there I will get replies but without them I won’t. What this tells me is that my looks are more important to most people than what I have to say or who I really am. This makes me sad for humanity but I guess I already suspected that humanity was sad in general.

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Twisted Bastards. September 23, 2011

Filed under: adoption,Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 7:12 pm

Anything can become adoption related if you are a twisted bastard.

Picture of Homo Milk on FB… Bastardized.

Kool-Aid lipgloss found on pinterest… Bastardized.

Skittles candy… SO bastardized.

Unicorns and rainbows… The ultimate bastardization.

I think this shows that while we are most certainly all bitter, angry and ungrateful we also all share a wicked good sense of humor about our situations. Laughter makes the world go round and lightens our hearts when we are at our lowest. It also seals the deal on who I can trust and who I need to avoid talking to. If you can’t find the humor in a carton of soy beverage being adopted by white and chocolate homo milk we probably won’t have enough in common to be real friends.

PS. Please don’t call Soy Milk a Beverage to his face. He’s adopted so he’s all Milk now and we wouldn’t want him to feel any different than little Two Percent and Skim do.

 

My friend Ana needs to die. September 13, 2011

Filed under: Body Image,Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 10:56 am

My friend Ana is perfect on the outside. She’s thin, pretty, witty, smart and popular. On the inside Ana is fat, ugly, boring, stupid and hated by everyone. She has been my best friend, and worst enemy, for over 20 years. She has been at my side for every adventure, failure, laugh and cry. Ana used to be my driving force, until I realized that Ana has been slowly ruining my life.

A few years ago I decided that it was time for us to part ways but she held on for dear life. I slowly started backing away and stopped taking her advice. I finally saw her for the evil being she is and started looking back at all the ways she has caused me pain. Ana caused me to lose my son, my self esteem, my hopes and dreams, my bone density and the normal functioning capacity of my cardiac system. She has given me many things as well, such as a downy fuzz that covers my body, bad skin, teeth and nails, severely fucked up self image and self hatred. She has controlled my every move and thought. It took a lot of time and self monitoring but I eventually kicked Ana to the curb. Or so I thought.

At some point this summer I let Ana come back, almost basking in her presence. She gave me purpose and drive, at least in the beginning. It was like coming home, falling back into a well known routine that allowed me to feel in control again. But, like always, she soon started eating at my brain, literally, and invading my thoughts, quickly turning my very mind against me. Ana has to go, again, and this time she has to stay gone. There is a difference this time though, this time I know what it’s like when she isn’t around, this time I know that there is a better me laying under the veil of Ana’s influence. As hard as it is to accept our childhood friends often become people we simply grow apart from, this is the case with Ana. She represents a broken, hurt and scared me, the me who didn’t know how to cope with a series of shitty events thrown at me in my youth. She was meager comfort when that was all I had. Now I’m older, hopefully wiser, and I don’t need those old comforts the way I did then. Yup, Ana has to go, again.

Maybe this time will be the last. Who knows? Maybe Ana will find somewhere where she isn’t able to destroy anyone. Maybe, just maybe, Ana will die and leave me in peace. If not, well, then I guess I will have to be stronger and tell her off when she knocks at the door. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. For today I just know that Ana needs to leave, so I’m throwing her out the door and making myself some lunch.

http://www.something-fishy.org/words/knowme.php

 

I am truly a motherless daughter. September 12, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 1:43 pm

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.

 

Oh noes guys. I caught the crazy again. September 11, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 7:00 pm

I had a traumatic experience a while back. It took me a bit to really understand what had happened and then it took me a bit to understand how it had affected me and then it took me a bit to start getting over it. What I really needed to do was get over myself.

I don’t really want to discuss what happened but I do want to discuss my coping skills, or lack thereof, and how my own arrogance brought me to my knees this week. It’ll be fun, I swear.

Some thirty-odd months ago I acquired a twat monster that tried to kill me. It ripped a hole in my fallopian tube and exploded my ovary, seriously the microscopic demon tried to off me. It was horrendous. After being brought back from the dead with someone else’s blood and the aid of emergency surgery I had a wee little panic attack (read psychotic break) that lasted two months. Once that was all said and done it set some wonderful things into motion. Namely, I decided that bat shit crazy wasn’t working anymore and I started getting healthy without really doing any work. I would just suddenly have an epiphany about how The Normals do things and then I would do them too. There was work involved since the crazies kept trying to worm their way back in but all in all the process didn’t stress me out or cause any real grief. In fact I started being able to deal with things as they happened without sucking myself or anyone else down into my dismal pit of self loathing. The traumatic experience happened about a year after the twat monster incident. I accepted what had been done to me and moved on with little thought about it other than a hearty pat on the back and woohoo for finally being so emotionally well.

Yeah. That’s it.

In reality I had merely buried that trauma so far inside that ANY experience remotely similar now reduces me to a quivering ball of flesh on the badly laid, dollar store lino. Awesome. I now realize that I am unable to have conversations with people I don’t know unless I can prove to myself that they are who they claim to be. Double awesome. As someone who has almost no time to devote to obtaining adult companionship this is proving to be very bothersome. My primary way of meeting people is online or through friends… WHO ALL LIVE IN MY COMPUTER! So wtf am I to do here? I can’t start meeting people from the internetz because I can’t talk to people from the internetz without meeting them because I don’t know who they are or that who they claim to be is who they are. Are you following? Good, cuz I have no clue what’s going on.

Fast forward to present day and I am screwing things up with a gusto I usually reserve for rocking in a corner post-partum. Let’s be concise shall we… Yeah I know, I have no clue what that entails but I’ll try. I likes The Boy, I gets scared cuz I don’t actually know The Boy, I panic, I NEED to know The Boy, I come off nuts. The Boy appears to have bolted. I know exactly where my fuck-upp-ed-ness ruined it but, of course, I realize it all after the fact and now I get to sob in my coffee. Boo.

BUT!!!!! WAIT!!!!!! Now that I know what I did, and why I did it, I can change my behaviour next time, right? Boo. I don’t wanna change next time gosh darnit. I wanna got back and not eff this time up. Double boo.

Maybe I should get a Bubbles instead. The monkey, not the trailer trash. It seems to me that a monkey wouldn’t cause me nearly the amount of stress that guys do. In fact aside from the crap flinging and constant masturbation a monkey might even make a better companion than a man. You can teach them to wear cute clothes and wind up those huge music box thingies and then people pay to see your monkey. I bet people would pay even more if the monkey didn’t bite and the people could pet it. But then I have to feed it, and clean up after it, and actually teach it to play the music box thingy…

Cats. The answer is obviously cats. Lots and lots of cats. No, kittens! So I can be a skid and always have a kitten in my pocket. If I always have a kitten in my pocket THEN guys will like me, because that is not crazy. At all.

Screw it. I’m just going to go back to blogging about my craptastic life. Oh wait, I already did.

 

Merry Xmas Eve from Canada! December 24, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 11:06 am

 

Merry Christmas! December 23, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — abandonedabandoner @ 2:38 pm

Watch this. Now. Thanks.

The 12 Days Of Christmas, Bastard Style!