It’s strange what triggers me to dig deep

I was having a frustrating afternoon yesterday trying to get a new phone purchased, and ended up waiting in a never-ending line to talk to a customer service rep in hopes of getting my problem solved. So I jumped on twitter to distract myself and saw the quote below, and it spoke to me in a way nothing else has in a very long time.

 

Looking back, looking forward.

The start of #NAAM brings up so many mixed emotions, including where I see myself now with such a mix of amazingly brilliant adoptees now speaking up; their digging deep and being far more open and real than my personality allows me to be. I’m thankful for every one of them, you should be too. Find them, follow them, learn from them. Amplify their voices, share their posts, listen to their lived experiences and the wisdom they’ve gained.

 

What’s your favorite song?

Lori sent me on a never-ending quest to see if I could come up with a list of 5 songs I couldn’t live without in my life. It was the rabbit-hole that never ended; it was also good hitting all the old bands and singers and just listening to the music created in my youth, the music that stirs something deep inside of me.

Music was my saving grace during my teen years when I was struggling so very much with being adopted, doing things I now regret and often wonder how I made it through alive. I didn’t think I’d survive and sometimes I didn’t want to. Music got me through the angry, the hurt, and the pain most of all. Songs written during an era of deep unrest and upset.

That music has gotten me through every rough period of my life.

I gave up my quest to whittle down my favorite songs to a list of just 5 songs. I can’t because so many helped me survive those years and again later in my life each time when I needed them again. Listening to them again during everything going on right now has helped, a fragile time if there ever was one, while at the same time – one after the other pulled me back in time to all those feelings, and at times, it felt like I was watching a home movie in my mind. Damn. I came to the conclusion I can’t create a numerical list of all time favorites because each one is special and connected to memories. If I had to pick just one song to have, it would be Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin. I can’t tell you why, but every time I hear even a few notes of the song, I am pulled in and everything else recedes.

 

Dear pro-life would be adopter…from 2015

(Lots of online discussion on adopting due to the recent SC nominee so it seems timely to re-up this post and hopefully make some think)

Readers know I don’t use the term ‘adopter’ lightly, and it applies only to a few out there. I read a very disturbing post today by someone with infertility, who is pro-life and also wants to adopt. I was ready to rebut her post, it felt good writing thoughts down, but it wouldn’t have done any good.  Instead, I decided to write this post, perhaps she’ll read it, or someone just like her. Perhaps it will trigger reflection, perhaps not, but I’ve tried in the kindest way I know…

She’s not ready to adopt…

 

Processing being Adopted

This is my interpretation of what an adoptee can experience delving into being adopted. As per normal, include #notall as you need too.

 

“I miss my family.”

This post is by Tiffany, her second guest post here, she’s also one of my friends. She’s fierce about what’s right, what’s wrong, she’s also an adoptive mom. A while ago, I asked her to write a post that might help others understand the complexity and challenges of adoption. She said she’d tell her story and see if that helped, it did, people loved it and it made a difference. Today’s post took me back to when I was a little one with big feelings I didn’t know how to deal with, that in this post, are dealt with wisdom and grace, please hear what she’s saying, it’s important.

*********

 

I don’t have an answer, I don’t think there is one.

I’ve struggled lately to put one cohesive theme into a post, anything more than a paragraph just isn’t working, I get off-track like I’ve done in this post, because, somehow, they are all inter-connected. And, I’ve come to the conclusion that even in my writing, I’m struggling with that old familiar feeling that waits in the shadow to pounce in a moment of weakness, or when you let your guard down for a minute, fear. 

 

Outside looking in and inside looking out on grief…

Why is it such a shock that a mother (and father) who chose adoption would grieve for what they lost?  I see posts about the birthmother is grieving, and the one I just read – not grieving appropriately, as if, for your comfort, she needs to grieve in a defined way, in a defined linear line, oh, and it can’t make you uncomfortable.

 

The position first parents are put in to be heard…

I was thinking last night about the position parents by birth are forced into by some in adoption, both adopting parents and professionals.  The position doesn’t make any logical sense when we are talking about normal human emotions we all have, or capable of feeling in the same situation.

Either…

 

Physical and emotional scars…

The other day I stapled my finger, it caused a momentary sting, I noticed it was bleeding, put a band-aid on and went back to what I was doing.  Until I sat down to write this post, I didn’t think of it because the wound was so minor I’d forgotten it in a matter of days.  If I do it again, it may trigger a vague memory that I’ve done this before, then it will be gone.

 

Finding a home for a child vs Finding a child for a home, two different mindsets…

By TAO

Of all the different aspects of the case about Veronica Brown – the one question I can’t find an answer for: Why would adoptive parents be willing to, or want to, adopt a child whose parent did not want that child adopted?  Because that would be a forced adoption, not a voluntary adoption, and I thought we were past all that, at least, that is what everyone proudly proclaims.

 

Everyone leaves…

By TAO

When I started dating as a teen, I found that the very moment the boy started caring about me, my emotions turned to ice.  We were done.  There were more than a few relationships in my teens that started out fine, and ended with the guy completely confused, because all he had done was tell me that he cared.