Princess of The Castle , my way ….

Once upon a time , there lived a princess in a castle. I’ll stop right here to discuss Castles. When we are young or not living in trauma, didn’t we all dream of castles ? Yours might have been like this:

Then there is mine :

Pretty stark contrast or were we neighbors ? My castle had thick walls , moats with crocodiles and dungeons where i could self impose punishments for myself. I felt that by keeping myself there i had some control of my out of control life. If i shut myself away i both could never be hurt again or be happy. Win Win , i thought. I didnt deserve to be happy and i knew i’d never have to truly deal with my grief.

Recently , ive been trying to actuallt feel my pain. Ive wanted to touch it and take it apart. My mind is curious that way. What I found would change everything for me.

Pain and trauma is something ive been wearing since at least my teens if not far before. My mom had dropped me on my head at 3 weeks , causing a skull fracture that did not please my young resident father. It embarrassed him that his wife was so careless , afterall , appearances are everything to some. I seemed to have no obvious lasting effect from it. My parents divorced when i was 10. My world suddenly went from one of live in maids and fancy foreign cars to shuttling between two very different worlds. I tried to raise my younger brother and keep my mom alive during her choice to stop actively living.

Did i do it well ? Hell No! But , i did it. i learned to cook and kept the bills paid and dad only came around when he wanted to impress a girlfriend. A horrible place for a young girl , zero guidance from anyone , angry at the world. At tbe time , it probably appeared like a episode of 90210 at times and others Cops. i deperately craved for someone to love me and rescuse me but did it in the worst possible ways.

I acted out , tried illegal things , went on dangerous adventures and told myself i was the lucky one. No one would tell me what to do. i was right , because no adult cared enough about if i was breathing the next day. Growing up with zero rules or cosequnces felt bold and brave! I didnt see the disfunction until i was a Mom.

During that time, in what should have been my great learning years , it was taken from me by anyone with the right words or promises of forever. I so desperately wanted to be loved that i allowed horrible things to happen to myself. Strangely , it wasnt until i was 50 that i allowed myself to even mention that i had been both molested and raped by the time i was 14.

Id tell myself that it was normal until i couldnt keep my baby. Everything came to a full stop then and pain started to build to a level of PTSD. I had reached broken. Shattered. Destroyed. And , most importantly Stuck. I wouldnt budge from there , despite a failed brutal marriage that gave me her two siblings. I divorced within 18 months of my youngest child being born. I was alone with my two beautiful kids by 30.

For the next two decades , i was the princess of my tiny house and my new loving husband , and i faked everything. That took so much out of me and having my mom move in with us for her health readons drove me to the breaking point.

I thought about suicide constantly after i turned 40. Everyone knew it , yet they couldnt help me. Ive always known i would have to save myself. Yet , it wasnt until this year that i had ONE day i wanted to live for me. Its not even April 2018 and i dont want to die. Believe it when someone tells you things change in the blink of an eye. It was as if someone ( G-d?) snapped their fingers and i was Alive.

Two , maybe three, big things had changed. I had started trauma therapy , i had started taking magic oil at night for pain and sleep and i suppose , i finally believed my lost daughter that Never was going to happen. She neither cared about me nor was ever going to meet me. My fairytale ending would never ever happen. I was also the closest to commiting suicide i had ever been.
My plan was set , i had every detail worked our and i even told people of it. Incase you are new to adoptionland , these feelings arent rare. I believe that many people were stunned i had made it to 50. I know i was. My kids were grown , and i decided that they would be much better without me and my constant failures around them. My mom had gone to assisted living so she wasnt an issue anymore. And , my sweet husband would be far better off than having a broken wife that was both chronically ill and depresed. The decades of trauma had destroyed my immune system and we both knew id never live to old age. Yay!

So , what changed and why do i want to live? Hmmmmmmmm. I crawled into the storm of the pain and let myself soak in it. I simmered and braised in agony. And , i discovered that there were things i wanted to do and see. Just for me. Not because there wasnt someone else to do it or because i was being forced. I made a choice to be happy. Insert the laughter of the hundreds that wrote and said it was a Choice! Bastards! How could they be so cruel? Didnt they know how hard i had fought to stay alive? But , they were just ahead of me. I hadnt ever tried to be happy , i acted like what i thought happy was. Two absolute different things.

If you are reading this and barely holding on by your fingertips , please stay. Its fine to keep screaming. Its okay if you plan it and dont follow through. I even challenge you to tell someone how much it fucking hurts. Tell me if you need to. Please dont be silent and go off without anyone knowing Every Single Reason Why. Because while holding on , you just might find yourself, too.

Just like Glinda , the witch of the North said , ” You’ve had the power all along my dear “. I just didnt know it. ❤️❤️❤️

Today I Spit ! Not on you Adoption , but definitely because of you.

The tracking number tells me that today is the day I will have to spit ( Correctly) , and start the journey millions have done before me. I’m doing 23andme, the test with the health information on it.

I have resisted this for so long. I was sure I didn’t want to bring more pain into my life. I have always felt I wouldn’t do this. I didn’t need someone else not wanting me. I didn’t want to know who I was. I would just start over with me and forget the rest. As a child of two Adoptees , I knew little of my background. My mom made up her past and my dad Never discussed his. I have my amazing bio Nana from Dad and She was enough.

Life changes as we get older and turning 50 last year has brought both new relatives and challenging health issues. My new cousins on moms side have many of the issues I have. One even had a brain aneurysm, too.

As I found this out , I thought maybe learning more would provide what I really needed. I wanted to be able to provide my children answers. They are all grown now and my lost daughter is about to have her 5th baby.

Being Jewish, but not ” of the mother “, has not been easy either. I’ll leave that to another post. Judaism and adoption don’t go hand in hand.

My chronic illnesses have gotten out of hand as of late. Severe bruising, frequency of injuries is bigger and clotting issues. I had been diagnosed with Fibro 20+ years ago, but wondered if I really had that or if something else was happening.

I decided that I don’t have to respond to anyone if I don’t want to. That the fear of the unknown had ruled me long enough and my abandonment issues should not rule me as they do. They have power only because I Give it to them.

I learned of my first genetic mutation about 7 years ago.

When doctors hear huff beats, they think of horses 🐎, not zebras 🦓.

Turns out that I am probably a Zebra. It’s funny how we come upon new to things and see how clearly they fit. I’m a ICU RN and have been for 27 years. Having said that , I don’t know all of the Orphan Diseases. There are thousands of them and as the category is called does Not mean they are for orphans or Adoptees alone. They are called that because they are rare and not a lot of research has been done in the past.

I have antiphospholipid Syndrome. I have Hyper mobility Syndrome. I probably have Elhers -Danlos Syndrome. My geneticist will confirm in a few weeks. Then I’ll find which of the 13 subtypes.

I am hopeful that we will finally know our health concerns and even curious about my heritage. And , to be fully honest, I’m the most nervous about my Jewish ancestry. Sigh , that other post. In due time!

Thank you for starting this part of my adoption journey with me. I’m a Mother and had never really thought of me being the daughter of Adoptees as a huge deal except for the role that played in my losing my first born daughter.

As I stretch and grow in this area , I see that many of my Sisters share this. Adoption does not save you from the wonder , fear , and frankly , the fairy tales we often invent when we don’t know. While I do know who my parents are , it stops there. Not much of a tree but more of a rootling.

Maybe my next post will be the start of a tree. Maybe not. We shall see.

So , today I will offer you a Shamrock ☘️.

Have a wonderful weekend!

So If my Parents are Adoptees, what am I ? I’m a Birth Mother, yet also something Else

I wrote this last month , not really thinking too much about myself. I was merely giving history of my story. My Parents story impacts me more than many think.

“I’m also the daughter of Adoptees. That’s an area never spoken about in Adoptionland. No support groups, no box to check for that. It is ignored by most and ” I’m lucky I wasn’t adopted “. I know my roots , right? I don’t. I know who my mom, dad , brother, and one paternal grandmother. That’s it. To me , my parents relatives are Not mine. Since my parents don’t care who their Real family is , that means I don’t know much.”

My doctor ordered the first of many genetic tests. Seems like that should be easy enough. But , the lab called me a few days later to ask me my family’s history. I told her the tiny bit I knew , that my Paternal Grandmother has many silent Heart Attacks and died of Ovarian Cancer. That wasn’t enough. I weakly croaked out , ” But , my Parents are both adopted.” Silence followed. They were going to have to appeal my case since I didn’t know my medical history. Boom 💥

Children of Adoptees don’t have major issues. Adoptionland seemed so hard on just the Adoptees and Birth Parents. Yes , I’ve known many family issues Birth Families go through with their other children and lost child. And , I thought that was the worst part of this massive Charade we play here. Allowing adoptive parents to put their name on birth certificates when they didn’t actually give birth. Apparently, this is my not fun jump into adult children of Adoptees. Another club. Great ! Not !!!

As Mothers we gave our health info as teens. And , the rest of the family may or may not have health issues. We write what we know , in something we usually don’t want , and try to be as grown up as possible in the No Choice of Adoption by parents for their daughter’s. I don’t blame my parents Adoption on this , but , that no one cared what happened to me. We haven’t even coined a term for us. It doesn’t magically start over with Adoptees. Their children are affected a lot , too. Maybe if either of my parents had been given the opportunity to know , this wouldn’t be me. The common stutter of ” I don’t know. Adoption “. It goes on and on for generations.

I’ve been told by many to do 23andMe or somethinglike it. Great ! Just what I wanted! More people that will maybe hurt me.

I have never wanted to look. I decided that I have had enough pain and rejection as a Mother and didn’t want to invite more. But , I owe it to all of my three children to know. I will now take the best test for health info , not making connections.

This past week was surreal. I found cousins I never knew about. And , they opened their arms and lives quickly and with love. Pictures were quickly sent and my name and number were spread around. I could not have asked for better New family! I got info from them. And , I’m grateful. But , that isn’t enough. Not for medical companies. I needed it on paper.

I’ll do the darn test. It isn’t the money. It’s being brave enough to put yourself out there. Almost taking off my carefully crafted cape of I’m not ____. Adoptionland is big and wide and can hurt. I’m too far into this game to want to play that much. No deep need to know my great -great someone was Royalty or an actress. No illusions that someone loves me and may be looking for me.

My daughter’s rejection is Enough.

As I do this test and maybe others, I am in both worlds in a way I never imagined. I’m almost adopted, Once removed. Adoptionland is covered in poison ivy. There are traps and pitfalls everywhere. I certainly don’t want to live here. And , absolutely not taking away from True Adoptees. Or , is full , original, or some other word better?

Please let me know what you think we should be called. And , your best test for health , not tracing lineage.

Love you all so much. You give me hope and strength. You are kind and gracious. You make our tribe stronger. ❤️💗❤️💗❤️.

Triggers

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Today is my oldest granddaughter’s birthday. It starts my season, my ritual of grief. Each grandchild adds and extends the season. My daughter’s birthday is next month and at first it was the main trigger.

Triggers in Adoption are everywhere. They are now in TV, Movies, and books. When you are a member of Adoptionland, you hear sad stories everyday and you Know your Sisters are struggling themselves. You’ve desperately want to take their pain away and it often becomes integrated into your own. We have such a close Tribe of women, both Moms and Adoptees, we know exactly how it feels.

I know women that have rituals they have done forever. Some healthy but often devastating. It’s so hurtful to both hear and watch their pain. It’s both wonderful and tragic to know you have this group of amazing friends.

Birthdays missed , weddings, grandchildren and just not being in our lost child’s life is a never ending nightmare. Many of us were told it would be open, only for it to close suddenly. We were never told we were hurting our child. We were told that WE were not enough. And , that is a forever feeling.

Last year another Mom that lives near me and our daughter’s share the same birthday month decided to go out for their birthday and be together. That was the first time I felt a little better. We are doing it again this year. It helped to not be alone and to be with someone that knows exactly how I felt.

Triggers are a land mine for those around us. I get that they can’t possibly understand. But , being told to “ get over it “ just makes it worse. It is our child. How can you forget your first born child? Why would you want to? They aren’t dead , just amputated from us.

I try to act like everyone wants me to be. Happy, positive, and alive. It’s exhausting. I am torn between giving up and trying to heal every day. As a dear friend told me last night, she wishes she had a magic wand to fix this.

I’m so grateful for the beautiful people that get it and love me despite me being a disaster in progress. The ones that check on me and offer unconditional love. It is those people that often keep me here. And , I pray that I’ve helped someone, too.

I’m hurting today, but I tell myself how many hurts I’ve survived. I know I will make it through this again. I’ve been doing it for almost 32 years.

Love to all of you today. 💗🎂

Who Am I ?

I ask myself almost daily who I am. Because I’m a Mother who lost her first child to adoption, people put me in the ” Birth Mother” category. But , I think there is far more to me and my multiple issues than that.

I’m also the daughter of Adoptees. That’s an area never spoken about in Adoptionland. No support groups, no box to check for that. It is ignored by most and ” I’m lucky I wasn’t adopted “. I know my roots , right? I don’t. I know who my mom, dad , brother, and one paternal grandmother. That’s it. To me , my parents relatives are Not mine. Since my parents don’t care who their Real family is , that means I don’t know much.

My mom was adopted at birth by a cruel woman that lied to her , her entire life. The story of my real grandmother dying in childbirth and my real grandfather being killed in a war we weren’t even fighting in yet bothered me for years. It just didn’t ring true. My Moms Adoptive mother told a tale that she had 7 miscarriages and was giving birth to another stillborn baby. The doctor supposedly gave mom to the lady that had so much loss.

A few facts are needed here to help you understand. My adopted grandmother was Jewish. She was wealthy. And , my mom was born in a charity Catholic hospital for the poor. Why would a rich Jewish woman go to a hospital for the indigent after losing so many babies? Wouldn’t it make more sense for her to go to a fancy top hospital?

I started researching the hospital mom was born in. I came across a photo of a woman with the same last name laying the cornerstone. Clue #1. Mom had tried to get her records at 21 but they were destroyed…. the usual Adoption fire or flood that is a common lie.

Original Birth Certificates are extremely hard to get for Adoptees in most states. They are sealed and an amended Birth Certificate is issued that falsely puts the adopted parents as giving birth. Often other data on this Amended Certificate is wrong , sometimes deliberately. Dates and names are spelled wrong so Adoptees can’t even go by that information.

When Illinois finally opened up to giving OBC’s, I filled out the forms and waited. Eventually, my moms records came. Both of her parents had been alive at her birth. All of the years of my mom thinking she had contributed to Her moms death were needless and cruel. Of her Never thinking she was good enough, that she had to be perfect, and her zero self esteem were caused by a lie.

I quickly searched online and found my mom’s family. This was 5 years ago. Mom was 71. Sadly, her parents had lived in the state next to us forever. And , they had both just died in their 90’s. I think I was more angry and heartbroken than mom. She had five siblings, with two still alive. I called the first name I found that matched with the information I had gathered and it was her youngest brother! He never knew of her but was immediately kind and open. He called the sister and she knew the story.

My grandmother had just a special needs child, my grandfather was out of work and they felt this was their only option. She had taken my Aunt with her to meet my mom’s adoptive parents prior to mom’s birth. She wanted to find her the best home she could and she loved mom very much. Everything my adoptive grandmother had said was a lie. On a sad note, both of my mom’s adoptive parents committed suicide. My adoptive grandfather 4 months before my birth and my adoptive grandmother at age 93 on my mom’s birthday.

My fathers story is a little different. His mom , my beloved Nana was his mom. She had been married to a Jewish man and he left her when she became pregnant. I never knew this about my dad until I was in my late 30’s. I was stunned my dear Papa wasn’t my grandfather, even though he died when I was 5. Apparently, my Nana remarried to a Jewish doctor and he adopted my dad. I found out who he is via the wonderful Search Squad on Facebook. My birth grandfather was a Russian Jewish man. He soon remarried and never had children. I don’t think my dad even knows who he is. We are estranged…. another day.

Having two parents that are Adoptees wasn’t easy. It wasn’t discussed Ever , and back then Adoption wasn’t spoken about or thought to cause any emotional damage. My mom is the classic “ in the fog “ case and really still is. She says she forgets about it. Dementia isn’t helping that. My father was cold , distant, and ending up leaving our family when I was 10. He remarried a woman with the condition of No Kids. He loved my Nana dearly, and I’m glad I have that memory.

I always was so jealous of big families. My tiny one didn’t interact with any family members. It confused me why everyone had cousins and I only knew some of the names of mine. I had wanted this huge loving family and instead had two totally dysfunctional parents. As I grew up , I tried to be perfect, the smartest, the one they would be proud of. I always felt like I failed.

I wish there had been support groups for people like me. In Adoptionland I’ve always been friends with both Adoptees and Mom’s. But , I saw so much of the Adoptees pain in myself. I felt torn and confused on what category I fit in to. In a profound sense, Girls forced by their parents to not keep their baby become orphans , too. Our parents didn’t love us Or their grandchild enough to help us. That alone is a huge lifelong pain.

When I figure out who and what I am , I think I won’t feel so alone in my grief. It’s a long process to discover who and why you’re here. I hope you’ll ride this out with me as I do.

Love to all.

Saying Goodbye to 2017 with Hope

This year has been a long one, but so important. I turned 50 and finally started to try to find out who I was. Adoption has been my Only focus for as long as I can remember. By digging deep , deeper than ever before, I discovered that my pain wasn’t only about losing my firstborn but, so much more.

Learning that my trauma and PTSD were with me far prior to that was critical. C-PTSD isn’t widely spoken of and it took seeing a trauma therapist to figure it out. I’m a work in progress and I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole. The seemingly simple fact that just existing is Not living.

I finally saw and named my unhealthy feelings and actions. That was the beginning of me becoming a different person. Maybe even one that I’d like.

I hate New Year Resolutions! We write them out in a list and within 3 weeks they are forgotten. So , I won’t impose upon myself anything specific. This year I will simply try to become better than the day before and if I fall, I’ll get up and try again.

When there is so much hurtful and wrong, I believe that it should never be rushed. I’m letting life set the pace of my healing heart. That alone is a huge first step for me.

Happy New Year to all of you !