As with many people, binge watching TV shows has become “one of my things”. God bless the Netflix and Hulu! The difference between me and alot of other people is that I am very particular about the shows and movies that I chose to watch. I generally don’t watch much “mindless” tv. Most things I chose to watch have some relation to my life and some deeper meaning that I can grow and learn from.

One of my latest is the TV series “Perception”. It appeals to the social sciences deep thinking side of me.This side is a very dominant side. If I wasn’t a musician by career, I would have gone in to Psychology. In high school, when I was visiting the college fairs in my sophmore year, I was putting down on all of the cards that my intended major was Psychology and my intended minor was Music. One of the college representatives asked me if I had heard about Music Therapy which was a combination of my major and minor. By the time I got to my senior year of high school, that would be my intended major for college. Long story short, and this will be a longer story for another post (because it is quite the story in an of itself), I ended up becoming a Music Performance Major while in college. I took many social science classes, however, during my undergraduate work. And I still have an exuberant interest in all social sciences. I am a very unique private lessons instructor in my approach, in that, I utilize a lot of social science techniques in my teaching, as well as my students often confiding in me as a counselor because they take comfort in our relationship and can feel the stretch of my knowledge beyond music.


I often feel that I am more conscious than the majority of people I come across. But often, I feel I come across to others as a bit insane or overly eccentric because my emotions and self esteem are very inchoate due to the situations and circumstances I have gone through in this lifetime in order to obtain that wisdom. The greatest minds run a fine line between genius and insanity, so perhaps that is a good sign.


For my daughter, it is not her life circumstances that cause her emotions to be inchoate, but rather her innate genius brain. That is the paradoxical mind of someone with Asperger’s. It is as if one is so overdeveloped and firing at such a rapid rate that the other is also firing at such a rapid rate that it also misfires or doesn’t connect the proper emotion with the proper situation. Everything is just going a mile a minute up there for her. The intellectual information seems to organize itself, but the emotional stuff doesn’t. Either way, we both struggle with the emotional area and how to properly appropriate it.


A thought came to my mind the other day. We are given all of these emotions in life for a reason. Many from my generation (I am 40) were brought up under the belief to control your emotions, hold back on all the negative emotions such as anger, sadness etc…we were not permitted to express our opinions to our elders, our elders were always right….even if they were wrong. We were an oppressed generation emotionally and we were not respected as individuals. The old saying of “children are meant to be seen and not heard” was often said or implied when we were children. And as parents, my generation has gone to the opposite extreme and become a little too loosey-goosey and allowed the children to walk all over the authority figures whereas they think they run the households now. The perception of authority shifted and has changed the reality of the way of life. Hopefully the next generation will find the right balance.


But the thought that came to me was that I have realized that I seem to function with different people from different emotion banks. It is different emotions that drive me to make changes within different relationships in my life. I try to tell my daughter that it is always ok to have the gambut of emotions, but it is how she handles them and reacts to them as to whether it makes them “ok”. IE: It is ok to feel angry, but it is not ok to punch someone because you are angry, etc….But what I am noticing, at least for myself, and I’d be curious to know if other people experience this same phenomenon, is that sometimes the necessary impetus of change for me to make a paradigm shift is based in different emotions for different relationships. But this, unfortunately causes me to switch in negative emotions. And I don’t know how to break this. For example. It is anger or hurt that finally drives me to make the necessary boundary changes I need to with my adoptive parents. This is a positive change that I am always in need of, but I lose the courage to do this, unless I swarm myself with a million reasons to be angry and hurt by them enough to convince myself of why I need to put up these boundaries. I have to make myself miserable in order to make a healthy change for myself. It sounds so self-defeating, but I chicken out if I don’t do this ritualistic barrage of hurtful input information until I finally make my move. I want to stop hurting myself, but I can’t seem to find another way to muster up the courage.


If anyone has any suggestions, I am all ears. I am still in the inchoate stages of my redefinition of self. But I leave with the following quotes from the show “Perception” which cause me to feel that I will continue to function in similar patterns.

Walt Whitman wrote, “I contain multitudes.” Turns out he was more right than he knew. The self is really a collection of several distinct neural networks all running on this glob of jelly between your ears. So through your different versions of yourself, floating around inside your skull, which one is the real you? And even if you do change, something about yourself, your face, your name, where you live, you might feel different, you might even be able to fool people, for a little while, but can you ever actually change who you really are? -Daniel

Does free will exist? Do I exert conscious control over my actions? Did I do that on purpose? Or was I forced to do it by some unseen neural process? Fact is, most of the neuro scientific data suggests free will is an illusion. But if that’s true, are we simply meat puppets? All of our choices made for us? -Daniel

Frigid Hearts


I always knew my adoptive parents had issues. I always knew they often walked on the wrong side of the street. But it wasn’t until 3 years ago till the veil was completely removed that I could see through them like a glass window pane. It wasn’t until 3 years ago that I truly realized exactly how dysfunctional everything about them was, and that it wasn’t me who was the inherently wrong human being, like they always caused me to feel. It wasn’t until 3 years ago that I realized that I was never really loved by them.

While my head always knew that the lives they lived were messed up, it was somehow my normal. Even though I could compare it to my friends and know that they didn’t experience things that I did, somehow my parents tricked me in to believing, the same way they make the outside world believe, with their charisma and fake masks that we were a normal family, and even furthermore, that I had a silver spoon in my mouth.


In addition to realizing exactly how dysfunctional my parents were, that my Dad is a full blown, highest order Narcissistic Personality Disorder and that my Mom is his Flying Monkey, mimics some of his Narcissism traits and has somewhat of a Dependant Personality Disorder as well, I also realized that they didn’t love me. They never did love me. They weren’t capable of love, at least certainly not for me. This has been a very hard truth to work through. To know their hearts have been that frigid to me my entire life and that the entire thing has been nothing but a farce, it has probably been the hardest realization I have had to swallow thus far. Somewhere deep inside I always knew it though. This, along with the physiological rememberance of being abandoned at birth, and being told that my birth father wanted nothing to do with my birthmom because of me have been the construct of my self esteem identity. This has been the basis for my inability to feel secure, to feel worthy, to not always feel second best.

My Great Depression kicked off with the transparency of my adoptive parents and the slow realization of their lack of true love for me. That was followed by my birthmom starting drama with me over my involvement with my birthfathers side. I did come to find out later on (still within the 3 year great depression) that my birthdad didn’t even know of my existence until after I was adopted out. She never even gave him a chance. Their stories don’t match up. This gave me one positive (my birthdad redeeming his status in my life as not someone who rejected me) but changing my birthmoms status in my life to someone who is not as genuine as she makes herself out to be and to making me feel as though I am being treated like a kid in a divorced marriage situation after 40 years. There are many other things included in my depression phase, but these primal needs and wounds are at the heart of everything.


I gave my Mom a journal a while ago from my daughter and step daughter as a grandma journal for her to fill out her responses as a legacy type journal. I just found it last summer and read through her answers for the first time. There were a couple answers in particular that really struck a nerve and showed her lack of love and interest in me. The picture above is the first of them. In this one, she speaks of her wishes for me and my daughter being that we get the best qualities from her and my dad. So first what is wrong with this is that she is, as always, denying me being my own person and wanting me to only be a carbon copy of them. Secondly, denying the fact that because I am adopted, I don’t get qualities/traits from them. While yes I might pick up a couple of things environmentally from them, she is in complete denial of my genetics and the fact that who I am is influenced by something and someone other than her and my father. She had made comments earlier last year when I was speaking of the family tree album I was doing (with her not knowing I am doing my birthfamily side as well) that I might want to pass it down to my daughter one day because she “might want to know where she came from”. That is not where my daughter came from. My adoptive parents share no genes, no nationalities, no lineage with her. If she would have used the term family history, that would have been one thing, but saying that is where she came from is complete delusion and denial of who I am and shows that she has forced me to live in their pretend world, that I don’t need to know anything more than them.


In this nest question (the bottom question), it’s asking about her young family, meaning me and her and my dad, and she says not a single thing about me. All she talks about are all the visits from other family members of hers and my dads coming to see her. And the two things she listed at the end we’re not activities that involved me, the zoo and picnics. They must have been from her childhood. Most of the questions in the book had no answers that involved me whatsoever, even like this, when they were directly asked about her child(Ren). Or the answer was very generic when it came to me, like playing cards and games rather than specifics like she gives for all the rest of her family. Whenever she emails me now, she always gives me all kinds of specifics on all of the family members. But all she does when she gets on the phone with me is ask generic questions, how are you, how’s the weather. For about 6 months she didn’t even ask me about my job (knowing I pick up new schools often) and she didn’t even know I was teaching somewhere new. I was waiting to see when she’d ask.

And then there’s my Dad. He hasn’t given me his journal yet. But yesterday when I was at their condo after they left to pick up the leftovers from Easter, I noticed it sitting on the desk, and I got curious to see how much he had filled out and what his answers were. Much like my Mom, he didn’t disappoint with his focus on his childhood and not me. Again, showing his lack of love and interest in me. Here are some samples of his.


So first up we have the young family page which happens to be the most blank page, the one he hasn’t filled much in on. Must be some of the hardest questions for him to answer. The ones that ask about his child. Hey, maybe he’ll end up answering like my mom, with nothing to say about me whatsoever.


And then there’s this beautiful page. Again, asking about children on that last question, nothing about me answered. Hey, maybe he’ll add something to it before he actually gives it to me…not holding my breath….and then we go up to the question about the most treasured picture. The picture he speaks of is of his mother. Again, nothing of me, which are all downstairs in their house. And then he goes on to mention how all the other pictures (from his childhood) were destroyed. As my best friend (who is a therapist) pointed out, that sentence shows anger. And she wonders if the reason he never saved any of my stuff from when I was an infant (as I pointed out in my post where it hit me about being very hurt about him sending her the dead boyfriend’s clothing but not keeping my stuff), that it might be his twisted logic that since his memories got destroyed, that I am not allowed to have my memories either.

Both of my parents focused in these journals mainly on their childhoods, which they claim to have fond memories of, even though I know my Mom’s mother was abusive. My Dad speaks several times of how good of a life his parents gave him. Yet neither of them are capable of loving me or of sacrificing their own needs for their child or accepting me for who I am (which is nothing that should be hard or weird for any parent to accept, I didn’t present them with any difficulties-I was all in all a REALLY great kid).

I will soon have to figure out the boundaries I need to place in order to be able to unlock and unearth my buried heart so that I can protect my tender heart from their frigid hearts while I learn to love myself, something they don’t and never did. As my best friend aptly labeled it today. I am their project, nothing more.

In Memory

Today’s song of the day came on my playlist today. It is an important goal for me. I am not there yet. I know it is where I need to get to. My head is there, my heart and functionality just isn’t yet. As you will notice with my next post. I am still working through the lie…