How It All Ties In

I love how I get to make these posts every now and then.  Not really.  I know I've been blogging about adoptive family drama a lot lately.  And while it might be a bit annoying to some, I see it as adoption related.  Here's why.  Stories have been coming out about the Grinch lately.  I've been a lot more open about my reunion with the people in my life.  I'm working on being completely open.  This is something that I've kept bottled up for so long that it's not easy to open up about it.  It's taken a lot of courage to open myself up to criticism and negative reactions (of which I've received a few).  But at the same time, I can't expect SinginInTheRain or NeverTooLate to be open in their lives if I'm not open in mine.  I feel that's hypocritical.  So I'm working on it.  But that means that I'm having some interesting conversations.

So I start chatting with someone.  And somehow my reunion comes up.  I don't usually just bring it up, it comes up naturally.  Someone might ask me about my birthday and I'll mention that I spent part of the day with my first father.  Which leads to the abbreviated story.  And then the look.  And then the question: "And what does your father think about that?"  To which I respond: "Why do you ask it like that?" To which they respond: "Because of how protective he was of you and your sister!" Which is then followed with an explanation that usually ends with me trying to remain calm in the face of this well meaning person so they don't know that my blood is boiling.

When I was adopted, the Grinch told everyone that if my first parents showed up, he'd run away with me to Canada.  He was dead serious.  I was his daughter, and his alone.  Nobody else was going to take me from him.  My adoption wasn't what was best for me, it was all about him and his need to have children.  He loves me, don't get me wrong.  But he never once considered that if my first family showed up looking for me, it might be in my best interest to integrate them into my life.  When I was a baby, it was easy for him to pretend I was his.  He bought into the whole blank slate theory.  As I got older and learned how to talk, it became pretty clear that I'm nothing like him.  At all.  And no matter how hard he tried, I never would be.  I sort of look a bit like him (we have the same hair color and similar skin tones) but other than that, we have almost nothing in common.  So it was hard for him to deal with that.  I wasn't just his daughter.  If I was, I'd be more like him.

When my sister was adopted, my uncle flew out to Michigan to rent a car (I have a feeling the same was done for me).  My uncle (not sure which one, but one of the ones with a different last name than us) drove it back to Massachusetts to pick my sister up from the hospital/agency/where ever (I was three, I don't remember).  He didn't want the car to be traced back to us.  Keep in mind, my sister has a semi-open adoption.  My parents knew her first parents' names and addresses.  But he wanted to make sure that they couldn't trace the car back to him so they'd never know where we lived or our last name.

So a lot of his recent behavior makes some sense.  Things have gotten ten times worse for me ever since I mentioned the whole bed bug incident.  So the Grinch's possessive behavior and subsequent anger at me isn't completely unexpected as others tell me stories that help me to understand him better.

So my dear readers, it all ties in.  It's not pretty at all.  But such is adoption.  Joy.

Taking Back Control Part 2

To continue from yesterday, I'm trying to figure out what areas of my life need a bit more work right now so that I can feel happy and be more in control of my own life.  There are certain things and people I can't control, but I can control my reaction to them, and thus be happier and possibly make my situation better.

The Grinch

Things are bad, but I realized that I haven't really been speaking up for myself.  He has no idea how he sounds sometimes.  He's lost control in his life and is trying to get it back by controlling mine.  This isn't acceptable.  I think that by calling attention to that fact will help him to realize that it's not OK.  I went through the last few situations that I've dealt with and realized that I didn't handle them properly.  By figuring out what about the situation made me mad and how to better handle it, I hope if similar situations arise in the future, I'll be better prepared.

"You're on supper duty"

What happened: This statement was made the minute I walked through the door from work.  No "hello" or "how was your day?", just basically a command to make him and my mother dinner.  I didn't correct him, just threw something together.  I was furious for being spoken to that way.  I don't speak to other adults that way, and I don't expect it back.

New Response: "I'm sorry, but I will not be making you dinner.  If you chose to ask me nicely, I'll consider it, but nobody bosses me around that way.  It's rude, inconsiderate, and disrespectful.  I don't treat you that way, and I would appreciate the same courtesy.  If you ask me nicely tomorrow, maybe I'll make dinner then."

"You made a complete mess in the basement.  It's unacceptable.  And I'm nice to your boyfriend when he comes to visit so you should treat me better."

What happened: I apologized multiple times. I picked up the jacket I had left on the chair, folded the blanket, and moved the furniture back into place.  I bit my tongue the whole time.  I fought back later at a different part of the conversation, but I never addressed this issue.  Which is separate.

New Response:  "I'm sorry for making a mess.  I will clean it up.  However, there is no reason to get upset about a small mess.  It's easily rectified.  The basement is messy because I still do not have cable in my room, months after I asked politely for it and was promised it.  If you don't want me hanging out in the basement, then please put cable in my room.  That seems like a fair compromise.  Also, my boyfriend had nothing to do with the mess.  And you should be nice to him no matter what.  He's nice to you.  In fact, last week, I forgot my debt card while buying Mom something and he offered to pay so I could get the jacket she needed for her.  He never complained about it, just stepped up.  He also helps with things around the house, pays attention to your dog when you're out working, and will sit with Mom so I can get other things done around the house.  So hinting that you won't be nice to him anymore isn't really your best option."

"You're a pig!  I can't believe you live in filth!  This is a family house.  Grow up!"

What happened: I lost it.  I completely and totally lost it.  This was all over two sweatpants and a pair of boots.  I kid you not.  He swears there were more things on the floor.  There weren't.  I wish I had picture proof.  It was bad.

New Response: "I'm sorry you feel that way.  This is not in fact a family house because I have no say as to what happens in this house.  So lets find a solution.  I either get a say in how the rest of the house is run, or I get my own space.  So unless I move my things around the house into other rooms, which would include me being able to leave my purse in the kitchen (a no-no at this point), leave my shoes by the front door (another no-no) and leaving a blanket unfolded in the basement, I'd suggest that you let me have my own space.  I am twenty four years old.  And my bedroom isn't hurting anyone in the house.  So you have a choice to make.  Your daughter, or your daughter's room.  You get one.  You can't have both.  So make your pick and be done with it."

"I hear you were in the doghouse this week"

What happened: My father told my entire extended family that we had gotten into a fight.  He told them I acted like a child and that I was a pig.  My extended family passed this story around.  Most parents defend their children.  My mother always did.  But not the Grinch.  He throws me and my sister under the bus repeatedly.  And I let him do it.

New Response: If I hear anything, I'm calling my father up on the spot and demanding an apology.  I will ask him if he would like me to start talking crap about him to everyone, something I don't do in real life because I don't find it fair to only tell one side of the story.  And honestly, I'd tell whoever was gossiping about me that they need to evaluate the source.  They know that I'm not a bad person.  Had they taken the time to think about what I was being accused of, I think they would have realized it was crap.  So I'd probably remind them to think things through next time.  Because if they form a negative opinion on me based on half of a story from someone who is clearly over the edge, then they aren't as supportive or as loving as I thought.  Boom on both fronts!

I can't keep living the way I've been living.  But I also let the Grinch take control over the situation.  And as an adult, it's time for me to take that control back.  He's just going to need to find another outlet.

Something's Not Right

Add sweatpants and boots
and this is what I'm talking about

I was dealing with some serious family drama this week.  Seriously.  So I'm going to write about it because it will make me feel better.  It always does.

I'm pretty sure that my adoptive father has OCD.  Naturally I'm not a professional so maybe it's something else.  But there's something not right going on.  My dad has always been clean.  But lately it's been kicked up to a whole new level of insanity, ever since my mom got sick.  Before, he'd deal with the mess.  My mom isn't the most organized person and there were times when we'd have stacks of paper in the kitchen, the laundry would be piled up, and don't even get my started on the guest bedroom (the door was always shut that's how bad it was).  However, my mom no longer handles the bills (so no more stacks of paper), the laundry gets put away the same day its done (it's a good system), and my dad has cleaned out the guest bedroom.  She used to do her arts and crafts in there and she can't do those things anymore so there's no chance for her to mess it up again.

My dad has gone through each and every room in the house.  In each room, he's dusted every item.  He's vacuumed twice.  He's scrubbed the floor with a new favorite cleaning product.  He's moved around the furniture and gone so far as to buy new (cleaner) furniture for almost each room.  All the windows have been scrubbed.  He dusted every fan, as well as polished the wood on the beams in the room with the cathedral ceiling.  Spare sheets have been washed.  Everything is neat and organized.  He's got the basement left.  That's it.  The rest of the house (including my bedroom) he's already cleaned.  It's weird.  It's like he HAS to do it.  He's also manicured the lawn outside to the point where if it's not raining, he's usually in the yard.  That outlet is gone now that the winter is here.

I honestly didn't think much of it.  I knew it was an escape for him, and I figured that if it made him happy, then he should just do it.  Beside, what's wrong with a clean house?  It didn't bother me, it certainly didn't bother my mother, and whatever, we move on.  And then this week happened.

I made a mess in the basement.  I own up to that 100%.  I forgot to fold a blanket I was using and I left a jacket down there.  I had moved some furniture so I could do my yoga and hadn't moved it back because I've been doing yoga everyday.  I figured it's the basement and I'm really the only one who's been going down there.  And I left a food wrapper.  Which really wasn't good.  My bad.

Not only was I yelled at for a good ten minutes, but Rudy (who had nothing to do with the mess) was brought into it.  Then he went after my bedroom.  Apparently two sweatpants and a pair of boots constitutes a pig sty and I needed to grow up and keep my room clean.  To which my response was, it's my room and if it bothers you, don't go in there.  Apparently that's the wrong thing to say.  This is why I seriously think he's got some sort of mental disorder.  A normal rational person would not have flipped out on me the way that he did.  He even followed me to my room later in the night to yell at me some more.  He couldn't handle the things on the floor.  My room is super neat and clean right now.  Two sweatpants and a pair of boots (that my sister had borrowed and returned after I left for work and therefore I had no knowledge of) were enough to set him off.

I'm one of the cleanest people I know.  The sweatpants and boots were not hurting anyone.  They did not impose on anyone's safety.  They weren't affecting the rest of the family in anyway.  The reason my door was open was because I don't have heat in my room and it's freezing in there if I keep the door shut.  I wish I was joking.

I was told that my room isn't really mine.  That it's his house and therefore I need to abide by his rules.  And that means nothing on the floor (keep in mind that these items were far from the door and therefore nothing my mother could have tripped on -- that I could have understood). I was told that I don't have the right to any privacy in the house because it's a family house and therefore we share things as a family.

This whole living at home thing at 24 is new to me.  I'd rather be in an apartment on my own.  I've gone to look at apartments.  But I owed upwards of $80,000 in student loans.  I'd like to pay some of them off before I have to pay serious rent.  I've got it down to $70,000 after working my butt off this summer and I hope to have it down to $65,000 by the new year.  I'm determined.  I do know that after five years of having my own space, I need one room in the house to call my own.

I'm asking my dad for an agreement between us (written).  I'll pay him $300 a month (what he keeps telling everyone I should be paying him to live at home) and in return for that he 1) does not enter my room without my permission 2) does not comment on the status of my room unless it affects someone else in the house with the door closed and 3) I get the cable I've been asking for for six months.  I think that's fair.  In case that doesn't work out, I've been looking at apartments but I'll have to pay at least $1000 a month in rent, and while that's not super bad, I don't really have that money right now to furnish an apartment and I'd like to stay at home to help with my mom.

This is my life.  I need a vacation from the hell hole that I'm living in.  Is it December 9th yet?