Adoption Baggage Go Away

I decided to take a chance and emailed my first parents.  I asked them for an update in a light, fluffy way.  It's the first email I've ever written and sent to them together.  Usually I deal with them completely separately, but because they want to meet me together, I have to deal with them as a unit.  I didn't want to have to do that, but who knows?  Maybe it will work out in an unexpected way.  I have a feeling it's the best way to approach this situation and I'm going to go with my gut on this one.  The way things have been lately, I'm sort of beyond the point of obsessing.  The chips are going to fall where they may.  Though I did email them yesterday and now it's today and I haven't heard back... So maybe this won't go my way after all.

I have some stuff going on in my life outside of adoption and my adoption baggage is getting in the way.  Ugh.  Thank you so much adoption baggage for making me feel insecure and for losing sight of the things that really matter.  Thank you so much adoption baggage for making me doubt the one person I shouldn't be doubting.  And thank you so much adoption baggage for adding an extra layer to an already layered life.  I so appreciate it.

However, to give myself lots of credit, I realized (a little late I know) that my adoption baggage was playing a role that I did not want it to play.  As in it was playing a major role in the shotgun position giving me bad directions and trying to get me lost when really I'd like it to be strapped on the roof of the car.  Sometimes it's all about realizing you have a problem.  Without admitting you have a problem, you can't work to fix it.  You can't work to make things better.  I know now that it's there.  Before I was listening to the bad directions.  Now I'm not.  I'm working on it.  I won't let it steer me in a bad direction.  I'm stronger than that.  I can handle anything.  I can handle my mom being so sick.  I can handle my dad being a jerk to me.  I can handle my first parents rejecting me for a second (and possibly third time).  I can handle family problems.  I can handle long distance problems.  I can do it.  I am stronger than I realize sometimes.

I am a fighter.  I will not let this baggage get the best of me.  It's not going to happen.  I won't let it.  Can I get a "Hell yeah!"? :-)

Preparation

I drink lots of tea

I'm starting to get into preparation mode for my upcoming face to face.  I slightly remember this from a year ago.  In a way, I'm glad that I had that face-to-face to sort of prepare me for this one.  I know not to expect anything because it's so unpredictable.

I know that my first mother won't be concerned really with how I look.  It doesn't matter what I wear, or how I do my hair because that's not what she's meeting me for.  That being said, because first impressions are the most lasting, I want to look nice when I meet her.  I know that I can't prepare for the emotional stuff, but if I can feel good about myself, maybe it will help a little bit, especially with my own self-esteem.

I'm going to get a new outfit.  I did that when I met my first father, and it made me happy.  I don't want to dress up too much, because that's a pain and it's not a job interview.  I don't want to show up in a sweatshirt either.  When I met SinginInTheRain, I wore nice jeans and a sweatery thing (I'm so fashion forward I know what to call everything...).  I wore my ballet flats because I knew he wasn't much taller than me and I didn't want to wear my four inch heals.  I wasn't too concerned about it because in general, guys don't judge women's clothing the way that women tend to (and I knew my first father was that type of guy... he wears white socks with black sneakers).  Knowing me, I'll probably get a nice new top, wear my nice jeans (I have a new pair of nice jeans now), and a nice pair of shoes.  I have a ton of shoes to pick from, so I'm sure I'll find something to wear.

I'm debating on getting a haircut.  I'm trying to grow out my hair and its in that annoying in-between stage.  It's not short, but it's not long either.  Also, because my hair is so curly I have to straighten it or it turns into a triangle shape that looks awful.  I could get it cut so that it looks really nice for when I meet her, but lose a few months worth of work (and I consider growing my hair out lots of work), or I can leave it the way that it is and pray that I have a good hair day.  I'm leaning towards praying for a good day.  I just really hope it doesn't rain...

I'm also finishing up a pack of Crest white strips.  It's about that time of year to use them again anyway so it's not a big deal.  I drink tea which isn't as bad as coffee, but white teeth make me happy so I'm going to finish up the pack before I meet her.  At least I'll have white teeth!

I'm taking the day off of work for when I meet her. If I meet her in the afternoon and I try to work in the morning, I'll be stressed and watching the clock the whole time to make sure I don't miss it.  I won't get anything done and I'd feel badly for my coworkers for having to deal with me.  I'm not going to want to go back to work afterward either.  I have a feeling I'll be way too worked up.  Last time I saw my first father I planned a massage afterward.  It was great because I knew I had something to look forward to after he left.  I just may do something similar this time around.

In the morning, I'll go and get my car washed.  I'm going to clean out my car on the inside this weekend anyway (it badly needs to be done) so I'll just have a nice outer shine to match the inner shine!  Anything to make me feel more prepared for the un-preparable.

Thank goodness for my running.  It's not that I needed to run to lose weight.  Running for me is more to tone up and gain some muscle weight.  However, running's been my key to sleeping lately.  I'm so tired by the time I hit my pillow I'm out like a light.  I haven't been plagued with my normal insomnia for a while now (since I started running actually) so that's been a good thing.  It's also keeping me less stressed so I'm better able to handle all these things.

Question: Adoptee's Place In Both Families

I got a great comment from Trish, a new reader on my post I'm "That" Adoptee.  I felt it warranted it's own blog post!

I just found your blog and it was interesting that the first post I read was about something that has concerned me. My little girl is 2 years old now and we are in an open adoption situation where we have visited with the birthparents and have regular contact with them, and her birthmother's extended family as well. I really want my daughter to embrace both of her families and I think that she will have some opportunities to have that "oh you look like..." experience since we have pictures (she could be her birthmother's twin at the same age) and she will have regular contact with her biological family as she grows. Is there any advice you could give me that would help us balance her life so that she grows up feeling secure about her place in both families?

For starters, I think that you're on the right track by reading adult adoptee blogs and asking questions.  Growing up, I wish my adoptive parents had done more at times to try to understand what it meant for me to be adopted.  I love my adoptive parents and think they did a great job, except for that one thing.  So coming here and asking questions gets you a big thumbs up from me!

I wish I had an open adoption.  Mine was closed, so any advice comes from my perception of how open adoption works as an adoptee from a closed system.  However, I do think that all you can really do as an adoptive parent is to make sure that your daughter feels secure in your family.

You can't control her first family and how they treat her.  You can hope that they are going to help her feel secure in their relationship.  You can encourage the relationship and be supportive of that relationship.  You can maintain your own relationship with her first family as well, even though it might be really hard.  I used to look to my parents for cues as to how I should feel about my first family.  When I was younger, they said wonderful things about them and so therefore, I felt great about my first family.  Then as I got older, outside influences started to effect that view because I was told a different story.  When I asked my adoptive parents about my first parents when I started to question things, they didn't jump in with "Oh they were wonderful people" but rather "Well, they were young and you know they probably don't want to be found".  Even though my "relationship" with my first parents was in my head, that relationship still suffered when my adoptive parents weren't encouraging a positive thought process.  Maybe my adoptive parents wanted me to be realistic about my first parents.  Who knows?  Here's the thing.  Your daughter will have a relationship with her first family.  Fantastic!  But she's going to look to you for guidance now and then.  If you show her that you have a good relationship with them, she'll know that it's OK.  Sort of like, lead by example.

That's just my take on it.  Let her feel secure about her place in your family, which is the environment that you control.  As for her first family, if you maintain a positive relationship with them and encourage (not force) her relationship with them, then I think you're doing great.  Thanks for the great question!  You really made me think!

Any other adoptees have their own answers to give?

Email Sent...

This time I hit the right button

I did it.  I sent the email to my first mother.  I asked her to meet with me within the next year.  I put myself out there.  And you know what?  I feel good about it!  I realized (with the help of some amazing people) that it was something that I should do for myself.  So that I'll stop wondering if I didn't do everything I could.  I gave it one more go.  I gave it one last effort.  One final chance.  It was more about me than her.  I want to meet her.  And I will.  If I need to show up eventually, then I will.  I'm not saying that's going to happen tomorrow.  It may never happen.  But it's an option and I have it in my back pocket for when I'm ready.

My first parents have made it very clear to me that when it comes to our relationship(s), it's about them.  It's about their other daughters.  It's about their family unit.  I can have scraps when they are willing to give them to me.  I can hear stories about my sisters and my other relatives.  They'll answer the questions they feel like and ignore the other ones.  They'll email when they feel like it.  And they will do what they think is best for them.  I guess I can't really blame them.  They bought into the adoption myth that once they signed the paperwork I would go away forever, never to been seen or heard from again.  They bought into the myth that they would be able to move on with their lives as if I never happened, as if I don't exist.  But you see, that's the problem with the myth.  I was born.  I do exist.  And as a person, I'm not willing to lay down and play the good adoptee.  I have feelings and wants and needs as well, and as an adult, I have a say in how I conduct my life.  Which includes my biological family.  Not just my first parents, but the rest of them as well.

For a long time, I played their games.  I played by their rules.  I did what they expected of me.  I was the good adoptee.  I emailed when I should have.  I answered their questions about my life.  I let my first father get to know me as a daughter.  He's seen me.  He knows that I share similar quirks with my sisters.  He knows that I look like my first mother.  That we share mannerisms.  And he's even seen my hometown (if I could go back, I'd probably rethink that one).  I gave myself freely in this who experience because that's just the kind of person that I am.  I thought that eventually things would change.  Eventually things would turn around.  Eventually.  I'm tired of waiting for eventually.  So I'm going to push a little and see what happens.

If my first mother won't meet me, the world won't end.  I won't lose anything.  She doesn't email me anymore anyway.  She has almost no contact.  And my first father... well that relationship is reduced to a short email every other week.  When he feels like it.  That's it.  I used to love him.  He was a second dad to me.  He didn't raise me, but he was giving what felt like a great effort to get to know me.  I thought he cared about me.  Maybe he does.  He just cares about his life right now more.  So I have nothing to lose.  I'm moving on.  I'm healing.  And I'd rather get this over with.  So my email is sent.  Now I just have to wait and see what happens.

Boy Drama

So Rudy and I had a rough month.  The distance thing is awful.  We never planned on spending this much time away from each other after graduation.  We figured we'd have more freedom when we weren't tied down to getting our degrees.  We both stayed at school for an extra year for our masters and graduated at the same time.  We're both finished with our education unless I decide to go back someday (unlikely).  I was going to try to stay there for a year while he worked toward his CPA licence.  Then we were going to move together up near my family.  God's cracking up at our plans right now!  A pesky brain tumor wormed its way into the best laid plans and boom!  I'm home taking care of my sick mommy and Rudy's stuck in another state trying to get his licence and working for a company I'm starting to view as the Evil Empire.

Long distance relationships are hard.  They aren't for the weak.  You have to trust the other person 100% in order for it to work.  I had a friend point out once that Rudy could be doing whatever he wanted because I'd have no way of knowing.  A) My boyfriend isn't like that and B) I'd know.  That's the benefit of having loads of friends down there.  One of them would slip.  Something would come out.  And Rudy's either at work, talking to me on the phone, or with his family.  And we see each other nearly every weekend.  So in that sense I do trust him 100%.  You also have to know when it's going to be over.  You have to have a time in mind when you aren't going to be long distance and you're going to start being in a "normal" relationship.  Long distance isn't a permanent thing, at least not in my mind.  It's temporary.  So you have to have a rough idea as to when.  Rudy and I are having issues with that.  His job makes it nearly impossible for him to move, or have an idea as to when he's going to move.  He can either quit his job in a year and risk not being hired by someone else (he'd be short his licence) or he can wait it out a lot longer than we had planned and move up here in two years.  Two years, after already being apart for a half of a year, is a lot longer than we thought.  I can't move.  It's not an option with my mom being the way that she is.  So we're at a standstill.  I'm not 100% sure of how things are going to work out.

At the same time, I know that he's the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with.  We've been together coming up on five and a half years.  I know him backwards and forwards.  I can tell when he's annoyed with me.  I can tell when he's trying not to laugh and failing.  I can tell when he's sad.  I can tell when he's thrilled.  I can tell when he's frustrated at the situation too.  These are all things I can pick up over the phone.  I've gotten so good at reading him because that's our major form of communication.  I know him backward and forward and I know who he is.  I know the essential parts of Rudy.  He's my other half.  He's my best friend.  He's the person first think of in the morning, and the last person I think of as I'm falling asleep.

So we're starting to plan for our future together.  Because if we don't, I'm going to lose my mind.  First step, plan a vacation for next year.  After all our time apart, we need some time together just the two of us.  I can't wait!

Learning to Relax Again

I've tried this before and failed miserably, but I'm deciding that I'm going to be happy from here on out.  I'm going to work harder at getting to a better place than I'm at right now.  I'm determined to do it.  I can't keep living like this, and I'm going to deal with it and move on.  So I'm going to try to stay positive, and make some changes in my life to reduce my stress.  I've been browsing around on the web looking for tips and I figured I'd share some of the things I've been doing in my life in an effort to feel better.

Deep Breathing
Megan over at Earth Stains posted this gem a few months back.  I've been practicing and oh boy does it help a lot!  This method of deep breathing is something that I can do anywhere.  When I feel particularly stressed, I start a cycle of this at my desk.  I close all the windows on my computer (leaving only the relaxing background), relax my muscles, focus my eyes on a blank wall in my cube (if I'm not at my desk I close my eyes), and focus on my breathing as I recite the numbers in my head.  I block everything else out other than my breathing to the count.  It's so soothing and it helps me to calm down.  I've learned that deep breathing is a great way to relax and to relieve anxiety.  I highly recommend you check it out.

Organized To-Do List
I've been learning how to better organize my to-do list.  I wish I still had all the wonderful links but I have yet to organize enough to keep track of them!  Basically, it's helpful to keep things written down.  It lessens my anxiety and gives me a place to look when I need to figure out what I should be doing.  I tend to let things stack up and then I worry about them.  By making a to-do list, I'm able to stop worrying about forgetting to do something.  Everything I need is on my list you see...  But a to-do list isn't good enough to cut it for me.  It has to be organized.  Some tips include making things specific (rather than writing "Do Christmas Shopping" I wrote "Go to CVS Saturday to purchase doll for Katie"), organize them by priority (things with higher priority go near the top so I don't loose them in the list), keep separate lists for short term vs long term (certain items are long term goals and I don't want them cluttering up my list everyday), and make sure items move on the list (the point of the list is to get things done; therefore I expect myself to finish at least three things per day and to add new ones as they come up).  Microsoft OneNote has really helped me to work on this goal and it's helped me to be more successful and productive lately.  It's also decreased my anxiety level because I keep a separate list of everything I've accomplished in the past week so I can feel proud of my accomplishments and feel like the list isn't a mountain to climb over.

Headphones
My desk at work isn't in the most ideal place.  It's across from the office printer.  That's right folks.  Every time someone in our department of about seventy-five people prints something, I sit there and listen to the printer.  It's annoying.  And then they walk over to get their printed paper.  And sometimes they bring a friend.  And they talk.  It's maddening.  So I brought my noise reducing headphones to work and put all my music on my phone.  And so the music helped.  But I found that I got distracted by it sometimes.  And I don't always have relaxing music on my phone.  Then I realized that I have a white noise app on my phone that has the sounds of waves crashing on the beach!  The beach is my happy place, and where I feel most relaxed.  Now I listen to the ocean while I'm at work.  I still hear the printer in the background, but the sounds in my headphones help to relieve some of the stress and keep me focused.

Screen Brightness
I lowered the brightness of all my computer screens (yes, I have more than one).  I don't need to be looking at a glaring screen all day if I can read it fine without the bright lights.  The bright light of the screen isn't the greatest for your eyes and it was starting to give me headaches.

Walks
My breaks are now dedicated to walking around the office.  The act of walking around and getting out that pent up energy has started to really help me.  Can I really get in good exercise from walking around work?  Well my building is sort of a half of a mile long from end to end.  And I happen to work on one end.  While I don't have time to walk the mile down and back on a short break, I have plenty of room to walk around and to change some scenery.

Reading
Reading is another stress reducer that I've given another try.  Rather than watching TV before bed, I've started to read.  I've had problems with this before (I tend to get caught up in a good book and can't put it down, thus not sleeping when I should be) but now I'm trying really hard just to stick to two chapters a night (depending on a book).  I heard on the radio that reading is the best stress reliever, and that it's better than watching TV.  I just finished one of my books and I really need to get going on another one.

Well there you have it, some tips and tricks I've been following to help reduce my anixety and to lead a less stressful life!

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.

Taking Back Control Part 1

Trying to get back to peacefullness

I know I've said this before and failed miserably, but I've decided to take control of my life.  I think that life in general (and mine more specifically) is very complicated.  There are so many different layers and conditions and parts that it's hard to take control of them all.  And then there are certain things that are out of our control.  What's that saying again?  Thanks to Google and Wikipedia we have:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

There you have it.  But there are things that I can change.  I just haven't been recognizing that lately.  So I'm going to break it down and figure out what I need to work at a little harder right now.

Mom situation
My mother is really holding her own.  She's been doing great and improving.  Her doctors finally found a good combination for her medication and she's able to do more these days than in the past.  She's acting more like her old self during the day.  There's nothing I can do to control this situation, but I am able to make things easier for her at home.  I do have control over the little things.  And I do those things.  Which means Christmas shopping and leaving laundry out for her to do (it's her one chore and makes her happy -- weird right?).  So control?  I'll call that a check!

Sister
We're finally starting to get along better.  We have a common enemy in the Grinch.  So things are a lot less stressful when she's around.  I still stand by the fact we get along better when we don't live together, but she's finally back in her own apartment.  So hopefully things will continue to go well.  I have managed to control my reaction to her.  I treat her with indifference and make my expectations clear.  Example: I made it very clear she is not to drive my car.  I'm indifferent to the situation as long as she doesn't touch my car.  That being said, last time she tried, she called me a bitch and refused to speak to me for two weeks.  I treated that situation with indifference.  She knows the expectation and knows she can't rattle me for attention.  Therefore, when I asked if she wanted to go to a concert with me in the spring, she agreed.  I wasn't holding onto the car thing, she saw that, and we moved on.  It's a much better situation.

Rudy
Oh boy.  How to tackle this one... We have a rough plan.  He knows that our current situation isn't working for me.  He knows I'm not going to budge on that.  He also knows that while he's the most important person to me, I've been very clear from day one about my expectations about certain things (like geography).  We're working through it.  I'm not sure how things are going to turn up.  All I know is I'm not going to make it over two years of long distance.  I'm done with the whole thing and it's only been six months.  I used to tell people that if you really care about a person, you find a way to make it work.  And I still believe that to some extent.  But I also believe that it's extremely hard to go through the toughest part of your life to date alone because your significant other is living three hours away and can't be there.  I've also learned that it takes two to tango.  We're still up in the air.  We have a lot to figure out.  And my situation at home isn't helping.  Neither are his parents who have been trying to control his life.  But we're working.  So I'd say this is half way under control.  Not quite there, but getting there.

The Grinch
I've decided that's his new nickname.  It's a movie and sums up how I feel about him these days.  This post is already long, so I'm tackling this one in it's own post tomorrow.  I have lots to say.

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?

Out of My Rut

What an interesting week.  Last week, everything I touched turned to poop.  I was super stressed, and it seemed that everything I tried failed.  It didn't matter if it was professional, personal, whatever.  I wasn't in a good place.  I had a feeling the week wasn't going to be so great because I was expecting a crash after my birthday.  Whatever.

So I had a shitty week.  It happens.  And then things started to get better.  I cleaned.  I organized.  I took pictures.  I not only talked to one of my best friend's in Africa, but I got an email from the other.  I got an email from my first father after a month of silence on that front.  My email book was delivered over a week early.  I got to pick out new furniture for my room.  I got to put together a few nice gifts for people.  I got to hang out with my family who always makes me laugh.  I put together my mother's family tree and discovered a few interesting things.  And I felt like my life was a lot more organized.

It's amazing to me how things can go so badly one week, and bounce back so quickly.  I can feel so out of it and only a week later, I'm feel more like my old self.  I'm not there 100% (I did have a minor freak out the day KungFuPanda got into college and I couldn't share that moment with her) but I'm getting there.  I seriously hate this stupid month, but I've made a few decisions.  I'm asking about the whole letting me out of the closet thing.  I think that's part of the reason I've been having such a rough time lately.  I don't like things hanging over my head.  I want to know what's going on.  And if it hasn't been decided yet, then I'm letting my first father know that I want to know when it's been decided.  I don't like feeling like a spectator in my life.  I want to be a participant.

It's funny but by shifting my attitude and making a decision, my whole body feels better.  I feel like this giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders.  I feel freer.  I'm taking my life back.  I want to be happy.  I want to feel peace.  I want to feel like my life is my own.

When I was cleaning, I found a card in an old wallet.  It's a card I used to carry around with me until I changed purses and it didn't make it over to the new purse.  It helped me to get out of my most recent rut.  I figured I'd share it here with you:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.

Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,

other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed

that during the low periods of my life,

when I was suffering from

anguish, sorrow or defeat,

I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,

"You promised me Lord,

that if I followed you,

you would walk with me always.

But I have noticed that during

the most trying periods of my life

there have only been one

set of footprints in the sand.

Why, when I needed you most,

you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,

"The times when you have

seen only one set of footprints,

is when I carried you."

~Mary Stevenson

So I hope that none of my readers are stuck in a rut.  But if you are, I have confidence that you'll pull yourself out.

Sometimes It's About Me

Wish I had a Map
To Navigate this sometimes!

I wrote the other day about how my mother was upset with me when I originally told her about meeting my first father for the first time.  I figured I'd go more into depth today and explain a little further what went on because I do think it's important to talk about.

My adoptive mother is/was my best friend.  I saw was because I haven't had a conversation with her in over a month because of the stupid tumor in her brain.  It's frustrating.  Moving on.  With the exception of my senior year of high school (where I was determined to assert my independence and she was determined to keep me as her baby) my mom and I have always been close.  I have always felt comfortable sharing anything with her.  I would call her every day in college.  If I had a problem, I would tell her about it and she wouldn't judge me or tell me what to do unless I asked her for advice.  She was supportive of everything.  If she didn't agree, she was gentle about it.  We still had our fights from time to time, but if relationships can be scaled from zero to ten with ten being the absolute best and zero being the absolute worst, my mom and I scored an eight or nine.

When I made the decision to search, I did so on my own.  My mother had offered to help me search after I told her about the whole "I Don't Count" incident.  I was happy that she felt comfortable with it to offer (because if she wasn't ok with it, she wouldn't have offered) and I took that for her blessing.  At the time, I was still trying to work things out in my head.  When I did decide to search, I had the option of telling my parents.  It would have been very easy and I know my mother would have jumped right on bored.  But I didn't.  My mother told me a while back that she really wanted to meet my first mother to thank her for giving me up.  I didn't want that to cloud my search.  And because my search was ultimately about me.

Now before any adoptive parents start complaining and asserting that reunion does have to do with them too, let me make sure I'm clear about what I mean.  My search wasn't about my adoptive parents.  They played a part in in for sure.  If they hadn't raised me to be a strong, independent person, I may not have had the courage to search.  If I hadn't thought that in the end they'd be supportive, I may not have searched.  And if they had never told me I was adopted (which happens) I most certainly wouldn't have known to search.  But my reasons for searching had nothing to do with them.  It wasn't that they didn't raise me correctly.  It wasn't that they didn't love me enough.  There is NOTHING they could have done that would have made me not want to find my first family (if I thought they wouldn't be supportive I just would have held of searching for a while, but I still would have wanted to).  For me, I needed to know where I came from.  I needed to find out if I looked like anyone.  I needed to know if my natural talents came from anywhere.  These were things that my adoptive parents could not answer for me.  They could not fulfill those needs.  It wasn't there fault, it was the fact that adoption overall is about loss.  It's never a good situation because everyone looses.

My search was about me.  It was about answering my questions.  So I did it alone.  My mother couldn't understand that.  She felt like she should have been with me the whole time holding my hand.  I get that and I can understand what she's saying.  Ultimately though it came down to the fact that I needed to act alone.  I needed to find my own way.  And I needed to be able to stop at anytime without justifying myself to my parents.  I needed to know I was searching for the right reasons.  And to be fair, I only told one person.  And that was the leader of my New Orleans trip.  I wanted to thank him for all his hard work on the trip because it helped me gain some much needed clarity.  Not even Rudy knew.  So it wasn't just her.  It was everyone.  Sometimes it really is just all about me and nobody else.  Just like my mom I'm sure has times when she needs to make it all about her.  It happens to all of us.

Internal Debate

I've been in a funk. I feel bad for people who have had to deal with me this past week. Things have just been "off". I have a decision to make. It shouldn't be a hard one. It shouldn't be a big deal. Yet it is. I've been invited to my high school's fifth reunion. I know, I know. Nobody likes reunions. It's hell for everyone. If I don't want to go, I shouldn't. It’s a bit more complicated for me.

For me, high school was hell. I don't think I'm alone in this at all. I had problems with friends for a long time. I have trust issues with girls. I'm not sure if they stem from adoption (which is a definite possibility) or if it's because the girls I was friends with and I had problems. A lot of problems. I was the girl that got kicked out of the lunch table. To this day I can't help but wonder why a middle school would have a table policy where only so many people can sit at one table at lunch. And why teachers would make just one student move. A teacher told my table that one person had to move and watched me move alone, watched nobody volunteer to go with me, and watched me eat alone. This teacher did nothing. I don't blame those girls. They were 13 and 14. What did they know? I do blame the adults. Anyway, I didn't really have a core group of girlfriends that I could trust in high school. The people I did put my trust in probably weren't the best people to trust. So I was doomed from the start.

Added to that was the fact I wasn't popular by any means. While we lived in a nice house, it was nothing compared to the other homes in my town. My parents were good at putting on a good show, but they couldn't afford the latest clothes so I was never "in style". I was smart. Too smart sometimes. I did well in class and the teachers loved me. I was labeled a nerd and therefore untouchable. By the time my senior year rolled around, I was miserable and couldn't wait to get out. I was having trouble with my mom at home, I was pissed off because my "best friend" started dating the guy I liked, and my friends all forgot my 18th birthday, a day that was really hard for me to begin with. So great senior year.

I wasn't smart when it came to social stuff. I liked a boy who got picked on. I stood up for him, which was the right thing to do. I called a few boys on their crap. And it worked, they stopped picking on the boy. Instead they turned to me. Instead of calling him stupid, they told me I was stupid because I was a girl. My ideas were instantly shot down in my engineering classroom. I was bullied, harassed, and messed with. I was cornered in a closet. I was attacked from behind. And NOBODY stood up for me. They sat back and watched it happen. The teacher was never around. I had the option of reporting it, which at my school would have been taken seriously (though not as seriously as it would be taken now). Yet the main boy who was bullying me was a popular guy. And his best friend was a bitchy girl who reveled in making other girls miserable. Think that movie Mean Girls. So I didn't say anything. I was at the bottom of the totem pole, but kept a low profile so I wasn't too miserable. I knew if I reported what was happening to me, they would make my life a living hell. I had nobody to turn to so I kept it to myself. I didn't tell my friends, I didn’t tell any teachers, and I didn't tell my family. My grades went from As to Ds and nobody questioned it. I withdrew, they thought it was typical teenage drama. It happens.

My boyfriend was the first person I told about what happened to me. I had to explain why I don't like people sneaking up behind me and why his innocent gesture was met by a panic attack. Telling him gave me the courage to tell two of my friends. One knew me in high school, but not well enough. She was amazed that something like that actually happened in our high school and she didn't know about it. I'm sure a lot more than that went on and I'm sure that worse things happened to good people. I don't think what happened to me was the worse thing in the world, but it was bad enough that five years later I still try to block it out.

I haven't seen those boys since I graduated. I'd be happy never to see them again. I hope karma comes around and gets them. I'm usually a nice person. But not when it comes to them. They most certainly will be at this reunion. If I want to avoid them, I wouldn't go. But is that giving them power over me? It's been five years. I'm not the same girl. I can turn and walk away now. I can stand up for myself. And I have a fantastic group of friends that I connected with after graduation that totally have my back. I'm not at the bottom of the totem pole anymore. I'm worth more than that and I know it.

So to go, and deal with seeing them and the possible panic attacks that will ensure, or to stay home and try to recover. I don't know. At least I have until November to figure it out!

Control

There’s a lot in my life that I don’t have control over right now.  I don’t say that to sound like a whiny bitch, I say that because it’s the truth.  It hasn’t been so much fun, but because I have no control over the situation, there really isn’t anything I can do about it.  I’ve given up trying to take back control, because I’m learning pretty quickly that isn’t an option for me.  So I’m learning to live without that control.

It’s a pretty hard step for me.  I’m more of a Type-A personality than not.  I like being in charge and I do best when I am the one doing the organizing.  It’s not that I think I’m always right (though some people will tell you that I think I’m always right), it’s more that I have a problem with indecisive people running the show.  I have a problem with people telling me what to do and then changing their minds.  I may not be right, but at least I’m consistent.

That’s not to say that I don’t have an open mind about things.  I’ll be the first to tell you when I’m up in the air about something.  I don’t make up my mind lightly.  I tend to want to get the most information as possible before making up my mind about something, and I like to weigh both sides.  For example, I wasn’t sure which side of the whole gay-marriage thing I was on.  I could see both sides, and my Catholic upbringing wasn’t a good enough reason to blindly follow.  I started talking to a number of people who were more invested and involved than I was and listened to their arguments.  I started to see that it really was a civil rights issue and I started to realize that it’s an equality issue.  Knowing what I do now about my own rights and what documentation I don’t have access too, well, I see it even more clearly now.

Then again I am only an early-twenties idealist, so I’m sure I’ll think differently in the years to come.  For now, I’m just trying to add things to my life that I can control.  I can’t control when my siblings find out about me, but I can control how put together I am about the whole thing when they do find out about me.  That means dealing with my adoption issues now and putting myself in the right mind-frame in case they do want to contact me.  It might take years, but at least I’m working towards it.  I can’t control my mother’s health, but I can control mine.  So I’m working out (yay for me!) and starting to eat right.  I’m actually taking my medication rather than blowing it off (I have bad habits like that I know) and I’m starting to feel better.

Control is so hard to give up but I’m working on accepting the things I cannot change.  I’m working through it.  It might take me a while, but I’ve got a great support system and some great friends to help me along the way.