Sometimes It's Better Not to Share

I was asked not to talk about my reunion at home.  Actually, I was asked not to talk about "those people" around my mother.  I say asked but it really wasn't like that.  I was told.  But I'm 24 years old.  Nobody tells me what to do.  And I never promised that I wouldn't.  Before I saw my first father on my birthday, I told my mother about it.  I did make a promise to her not to keep things like that from her a while back.  I plan on keeping that promise.

However, I haven't told her about anything that's happened recently.  In an odd turn of events, my sister knows more about my reunion than my mother does.  The person who was least supportive at this point knows the most.  And her least supportiveness (ha, I made up a word!) is now the most supportive that anyone is my family is being.  Go figure.

My adoptive family has no idea what has happened with my first father.  I told my mentor about it, and her reaction was enough for me.  She was very upset that it had happened (I don't blame her) and she immediately went after both of my first parents.  She was being protective of me.  I get that.  And to her, it makes complete sense for me to cut off all contact and never look back.  She doesn't think I should even consider making contact with my sisters, even ten years down the line, because they were raised by "those people" and why would I want anything to do with them?

So I'm not talking about it in real life anymore.  I'm running scared.  I'm back in the reunion closet.  Well, it's not a reunion anymore, so I'll have to come up with another name for it.  I worked so hard to get out of that closet too.  Yet back in I go.  Though I'll admit, this time to door is open a crack.  I think my new response to people is going to be that I know my biological parents and leave it at that.  They don't need to know that my only contact with them right now is holiday emails.  Two line emails (ouch).  But I do know my biological father.  I know him.  I've met him.  I've talked to him about all sorts of stuff.  So I'll fudge it a bit and make it seem like I know her too.  And I sort of do if you can know someone through email.

I'm just learning not to share.  Because honestly?  I feel like I have to defend them.  Because they are my family.  They always will be.  They are where I come from.  I love them.  They are my parents.  I have four parents, not just two.  And I love all four of them.  So when I share my story to my friends and family and they react to defend me, I get put in this super awkward position because I feel the need to defend them, but then I'm defending people who really hurt me.  Badly.  Which sucks.  So I'm just keeping things private.  And I know it will break my mother's heart.  She never wanted me to be hurt.  She was so cautious before and wanted to be there along the way with me because she had a feeling that this would happen to me.  So she doesn't need to know.  She doesn't remember to ask me about them anymore.  The Grinch won't bring them up, ever.  Or if he did, it would just be to remind me how much he doesn't want to talk about it.  And my sister, well, it's a sore spot for us so we avoid it if we can.

So I'm here.  Not talking in real life.  With the exception of a friend or two (you know who you are...).  But I am blogging.  Because that's all I can do right now.  I can't make them change their minds.  I can't give them resources because they are so private that if I explained that I knew people they could talk to they would flip out.  I can't fix this situation without completely compromising myself. And as much as I'd like to, I just can't right now.  Tomorrow will be a better day.  It has to be.