Secrets and Lies Part I

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Day one on Planet Earth. Happy Birth Day. A day to be legally falsified, shrouded in lies and secrets. The record I produce for my entire life will bear this tale. My own genetic history kept a mystery. Something I was not entitled to thanks to the mistakes, insecurities and decisions of everyone but me. It took me thirty six guilt laden years before I permitted myself to feel deserving enough and to put my needs before those who were supposed to put mine first.

 

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Golden Globe

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Meryl Streep’s departing line of her acceptance speech. The best artists are oftentimes those who are the most tortured of souls. My Happiness Project journal prompt last night brought me to a stark realization. I have been frantically searching for the past 2 years (the years of the dark night of my soul), for that which brings me happiness. I used to know this very easily. Even though I also used to know utter torture as well, I also used to know and have extreme happiness and joy in my life also. I have been desperately seeking that in so many different facets and coming up empty-handed. New and old are all disappointing me equally. Music seems to be the only thing that still never fails me, only I can fail it. In to it, I always pour my broken heart…

Renewal

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At the culmination of each year, everyone starts to think about what their New Year’s Resolutions will be. Ringing in a New Year is often seen as a sign of renewal or rebirth for a good majority of the world. I get the added bonus, or catharsis depending on your vantage point, of my birthday falling on December 21st, a few days shy of the New Year Renewal Ritual.

My birthday has always brought with it a lot of bittersweet emotions. I have always attributed this to the fact that I am adopted, and many other adoptees attest to the fact that they too struggle with their birthday each year. It is a reminder of the life I could have had, a reminder of the fact that I was surrendered or given up because I was a burden to those I was born to, a reminder of the loss of birthrights that every other class of humans that walk this earth are entitled to, a reminder that the parents I grew up with are not the parents that gave birth to me and are not my genetic link to my ancestors or geneology. And I believe my adoptive parents have always subconsciously felt this reminder at my birthday because throughout the years, they have successfully ruined many birthdays for me; from yelling at me because I was sick, to grounding or yelling at me because I was a half hour late coming home from my 21st birthday celebration, to flat out forgetting to call me one year. Yet these are the same people who call me by 3 pm to remind me to call the other parent on their birthday if I hadn’t called yet because they thought I had forgotten.

Heading in to the New Year is always a compounded vortex of sensitivities for me. Facing the open wounds of my recent birthday woes and trying to set new goals for the upcoming year ahead all within a short period of time.

My husband recently made the comment that in years past he always goes in to each year with a positive outlook, hoping and thinking that the new year will be better than the last, planning for it to be with all the goals to set in motion to make it so. This seems like the way that most people step in to the New Year. And it is always joked about that most people fall off their own bandwagon shortly thereafter. My husband said he might do things different this year and go in to this coming year with the expectation that things will be the same, or even get worse and it will just be a surprise bonus if things turn out good for once. His words lingered in my mind.

I think he is on to something. At least for the way things work in our world, this might be the best way for us to approach our life. It may seem pessimistic and negative to the rest of the free world. This may be why we have become hermits and loners in our old age. We don’t associate well with everyone else and others can’t seem to handle our way of dealing with life.

As with my last quote that I posted, hope devalues acceptance. The more I seem to have hope that things will get better, the more expectations I have of how things are supposed to be, or that some day things will get better. And with each passing day when things don’t get better, during those moments when things take the opposite turn and get worse when I thought I was already pretty low on the totem pole (yes, I realize there are always people out there who have it worse than me), I fall deeper in to depression and feel hopeless, wanting to resist my life and run away from everything-starting over from scratch where no one knows me. This blog is sort of a testament to that, because no one who knows me has access to or knows about this blog. It is my little secret from those who know me in real life.

My “hope” (love the irony there) is that if I face the New Year setting out to accept my life and accept where I am in it and who I have become and am becoming/shifting to become, then I might find some renewal and clarity, this helping me to move forward, rather than staying stuck in this holding pattern of utter depression where I have no real game plan for how to truly get my life in order so that I can move in the direction of up.

via Daily Prompt: Renewal

Eggshells

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I am that person who is non-confrontational. Sure, I let off steam and vent alot. But when it comes to actual communication and confronting the issues and situations that need to be addressed with people, I cower like the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz.

This stems from constantly being put down as a child and always being made to feel like I was wrong. My parents never admitted they were wrong and never apologized to me. EVER! They still haven’t. And I am going to be 39 in 1 day and they are 73. The best apology I ever get from them is,”I’m sorry you feel that way.” Never an admission of guilt. So I have always bourn the burden of feeling as though I am the loser in every argument. This carried in to my adulthood and has become a complex.

Due to my insecurities and conversely competitive nature, I started avoiding arguments and tough conversations at all costs the older I get. When I was younger I would avoid them with my parents so I wouldn’t get in trouble. As an adult, I avoid them so that my PTSD isn’t triggered and so that I don’t constantly feel inferior, as though I am always in a losing battle. I am a very sensitive person, so whenever my intense emotions are triggered by conflict, my gut instinct and reaction is to cry. This automatically is seen as a sign of weakness which has probably marketed me to friends and partners as easy prey. Add to that my own inner desire to avoid the conflict in the first place, need to people please, constant apologetic attitude, and desire to always work on my self, I am a recipe for disaster.

And so, I suck down all my feelings whenever I am at war with myself over something that is eating away at me over a controversial issue within any given relationship. I fester, and then often explode with emotions at the most inopportune moments. I am often made to feel as if I am in charge of everyone’s feelings. And if I confront someone during one of their 356 bad days out of the year, then I am this horrific person who can’t even hold out when I knew they were having a rough time. Yet NO ONE grants me this. Nor do I ever ask them to tip toe around me or walk on eggshells. I am so tired of feeling like I have to bottle up everything and keep my mouth shut and stay a prisoner in my own head just to maintain everyone else’s sanity. I am on the brink of insanity myself and no one seems to give a damn. All I hear are constant comparisons about how I don’t know what their life is like, I’ll never understand, their situations are so much worse then mine. I’m sick of no one recognizing the pain I am in and the turmoil I have gone through in my life. And the continued stifling of myself and sacrificing of myself that I do for everyone else’s sake. I am tired of everyone only ever seeing their own perspective and never slowing down for a second to consider someone else’s. Because I feel like, although I may not always be successful at this, I try very hard, and no one else even gives it a second thought. They just go on being themselves and not caring what the world thinks. There is self confidence, and there are character flaws that need to be changed when you are clearly pushing people away and angering and torturing everyone close to you. People need to get their heads out of their beehinds and look at themselves in a third person perspective for once. Because if something doesn’t change soon, I will be changing more drastically then I ever have before in my life. I already have been making some slow drastic changes. And if people around me don’t wake up and start seeing into my soul….That will be the last they will be seeing of me. The ants go marching one by one hurrah…..

Home Base Default Setting

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Many people probably view me as someone who plays the victim role in life. As someone who is very vocal about my pain and suffering, and who often over steps boundaries in order to tell my stories, most probably perceive me as someone who is looking for sympathy. But honestly, I am quite the opposite. It helps my self esteem when people to whom I have told a part of my story, or those who have been with my on part of my journey tell me how amazing it is that I am as functional as I am. Or that I have beaten the odds. Or that people like me give those who have faced less adversity in their life no excuse to behave as poorly as they do when I have been able to rise from my ashes. It is the recognition of what I have been through, and the admiration for what I have done to pull myself through that helps me continue to rise above.

As someone who has felt constant invalidation, been doubted by so many as to the validity of my stories, and been made to feel like a crazy person; hearing from others how strong and resilient of a person I am is what I need the most to continue healing. It is when people question my truths, question the eccentricity of my emotions, question whether I make mountains out of molehills, question whether I am the drama seeker; that pulls me under.

My home base default setting is that I want to be viewed as someone who is strong BECAUSE I face my darkness head on and don’t succumb to it. My home base desire is for people to recognize me as someone who is not a negative person that resides under a grey cloud of doom because I am a negative person and want to rain on everyone’s sunshine day, but rather for people to see that I have been thrown a ton of curve balls and I am not one to ever take the easy way out by resorting to drugs or alcohol to deal with my problems or rather mask them. I face them full on and that often means having to get dirty by sliding in to home base in order to score (read: weather the storm before seeing the sun again).

via Daily Prompt: Base

Rearrange

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For the school year of 2015-2016, I rearranged my life to try and help out my daughter’s girl scout troop, particularly the one poor soul of a mom who agreed to take on being cookie mom for 3 troops as long as she had help. My daughter’s troop was the biggest troop, so I agreed to do the cookie booth portion of it, which is still a huge responsibility with the way they run cookies now. It is nothing like when I was a girl scout where everything, the door to door and cookie booth took place within a two week span. The whole charade now spans a 3 month stretch. It’s utterly ridiculous.

It also took me almost the entire school year to plan and execute this lovely brainchild of mine that did not have the outcome I desired. That was a high school band reunion. It started out as an idea I had when my 10th high school reunion rolled around and I had no desire to see my classmates but longed to see my band mates which were all of different classes. And then my 20th reunion came upon me, and I said, gosh darn it, here I am 10 years later wishing the same thing. I am going to make something happen this time. So it started out as a Facebook group of me and my friends and some of their friends. And then I made the mistake of contacting the alumni director at the school to ask if we could use the band room because someone (who didn’t even end up coming of course) had the bright idea that we should all play our instruments together and have a jam session. The alumni director then threw me in to full fledged alumni class reunion style mode and the next thing I know I have over 200 people in my Facebook group from all graduating classes dating back to the 70s (the school only opened in the 60s). Needless to say, that project became quite consuming. In the end, most of my own so called friends backed out on me and I did all that work mostly for people I didn’t know. In the meantime, I had started to act more slipshod with my work and at home, which I don’t like to give anything I do less than 100%.

During this 12 month period of the great depression, my Narcissistic Dad wreaked havoc in my life via my daughter’s First Communion. Due to the fact that he originally wanted to be the one to host the after dinner party so that he could take credit for it to my mother’s cousins who would be in from out of town and so that he had a say in the restaurant chosen, my husband and I saw right through his charade and decided that even though it would be a stretch for us to afford it, we were going to be the ones to take control of our own daughters party because we didn’t like the restaurant he was suggesting and didn’t want him dictating her events the way he has dictated mine. All because I rearranged what he had in mind and took it away from him, he played such spiteful, underhanded, unbelievable games that hurt my daughter behind the scenes and also hurt my sister in law merely because we chose to have desert back at her house and he still holds a latent grudge against her from my bridal shower from 14 years ago which resurfaced a year and a half ago. He turned my uncle, who is my daughter’s Godfather against me to the point that he didn’t even send her a card (I blasted him in an email over that one….he now sends her a birthday and Christmas card after I told him pretty much what a.horrible person he was for listening to my dad and taking it out on his Goddaughter by not coming to her Communion and not even so much as sending her a card. My dad purposely got the same gift that my sister in law got for my daughter which I specifically told my dad twice prior to the communion not to get because she wanted to specifically get her that as her godmother. And my dad got it anyway and the look on my poor sister in law’s face broke my heart when her gift ended up being a duplicate and she took hers out of the pile after my daughter opened my dad’s gift first. He did it on purpose because he’s jealous of my sister in law and doesn’t like her because of an issue from my bridal shower, which was a ridiculous issue to begin with and a made up pretentious issue of his where my sister in law did nothing wrong in the first place either. It was all my dad blowing things out of proportion. But he rearranges everything if things don’t go the way he wants them to in order to make everyone else’s life miserable and to play such horrible and deceitful mind games with everyone. He sabotages what are supposed to be happy events. He brings up ghosts of the past that have been laid to rest and spins lies to make you wonder if you’re going crazy. He tried to tell me I told him something my husband’s family said a long time ago and I stood there and verified with both my sister in law and husband present at the same time that no one in his family ever said such a thing and that was the first they’d ever heard of that, so I know I couldn’t have told my dad what he says I told him. Because if there is one thing I am superbly guilty of, it is honesty to a fault. Not that I don’t tell some white lies here and there, you know the kind I’m talking about. But when it comes to the big things about principles and such, I am the most upfront and honest person you would probably ever meet.

My life also got rearranged a bit with the news back in May or June that the birthfather that I was always told wanted nothing to do with me or my birthmother once he heard that she was pregnant was actually not even told about me until after I was given up for adoption. I had been vaguely in touch with him since about a year after my I met my birthmother. She gave me his name and told me she would rather I not contact him but I had the right to know his name and do what I wanted. She would always take my temperature on the situation and ask whether I had been in touch with him at all. I had made contact with him on Facebook and we texted a few times. We were both pretty distant and kept it to pretty factual questions. I was not about to open myself up to being hurt by someone who I thought never wanted me in the first place. At the same time he accepted my friend request on Facebook, my stepsister on his side also friend requested me. He is never on fb but she is. One day last September, she liked a post of mine and it sent my birthmother into a seething tizzy. She claimed it was because my birth stepsister was a wiccan and she doesn’t want any part of that in her life, but also said she doesn’t want any of my birthfathers side to know anything about her. It was our first real fight in 2 years. It really affected me deeply. Once the news came about 9 months later that my birthfather was never even told about me until after I was already given up for adoption and was never given the chance. He believes he would have married her in order to keep me. And honestly, his track record as compared to hers favors his story. My stepsister has also known about me since she was 10. I figured the first she was told about me was the day she friend requested me. So I was a present thought in his brain over the years. I finally met him in August. But all of this has rearranged my entire view on the chain of events and on my birthmother honesty and integrity. My birthfather is an incredibly warm and caring and loving person face to face, but he is horrible about keeping in touch via phone and text. And he lives 2 hours away. So it’s hard to maintain a relationship with him. Even my stepsister that he raised as his own daughter who lives 10 miles from him has a hard time keeping in touch with him. I am happy to have gained the knowledge and confidence that out of the 4 parents I have that one may have truly wanted me for the right reasons, even though he’s the one who I thought didn’t want anything to do with me, which had alot to do with some of my self esteem issues over the years. But now I feel a simultaneous loss at the same time. Because the one who has been there and in the right capacity is my birthmom since our reunion. But now I am having a hard time trusting her because of all of this and it’s hard to get over this betrayal of my birth story. And the one who actually makes me feel honestly loved when I’m with him, I can’t have much contact with just because of who he is and how he runs his life. I plan on seeing him again in November. Who can say that their birth story was actually rearranged in their mind at 38 years old? Usually just adoptees. Even when I thought I had it straight, that rug was pulled out from underneath me.

And so, with everyone rearranging my world for me, I have decided to be like the tiger in the picture. I am taking over the chess board of my life and I am taking control of the players in my life. I will no longer be anyone’s pawn. People need think wisely before making their next move, because I think very strategically, but I can also pounce ¬†when least expected. My thoughts are now two steps ahead of every move that my opponents might make and how I might be able to respond. Life is a game. And I’m tired of people playing ME like a fiddle rather than me coming out as chess champion. Watch out world. You’ve met your match.

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Rearrange