Post by Juana Cookie on Dec 10, 2006 10:26:22 GMT -5
Forty-nine years ago, this coming April, a 23 year old, married woman, gave birth to her second child...a daughter.
She spent most of her pregnancy hiding from, and lying to, her family, because her husband was stationed in Germany, and the child was the result of an extramarital affair, she'd had. She had been living with the child's father, (who did not know she was married), up until right after she found out she was pregnant. She left him, soon after telling him of the child, because his financial situation was not as secure as her husband's. Her intention was to have the child, without her husband's knowledge, and then give the child up for adoption. But her husband's sister saw her, and wrote him in Germany, and he got emergency leave, to come home and check things out for himself.
Her husband said he would stay married to her, but she had to give up the child. That was no great loss to her, because it was what she had planned on doing, anyway. She had the option to divorce her husband, keep the child, and marry her lover. Her lover was even willing to adopt her other child, as his own. If she didn't want to marry him, he suggested that he take his child and raise her on his own. She even turned down a request from her childless Aunt & Uncle, to be allowed to adopt and raise the child as their own. She was, and remains, incredibly selfish, and did what was best for her, without a whole lot of thought about what would be best for the child.
18 years later, she would be reintroduced to that child, who would have done anything for her, and who loved her unconditionally, but she was incapable of love, so instead, she would blame the child for everything that went wrong, in her life.
The daughter would spend the first six months of her life, being passed from foster home to foster home. She was placed in a "permanent" home, when she was six months old. A year later, the adoption would be finalized.
Those childhood years, were NOT like an episode of Donna Reed. She was adopted into a family where both parents drank, although neither one would admit to having a problem. There was an older child, also adopted, who hated her from the moment she was brought into the house. For years she thought maybe she had done something wrong, that caused him to verbally, physically and sexually abuse her from as far back as she could remember. But then a woman who had been the babysitter for them, when she was little, told her that, from the very beginning, she would have to be held every second, or else the older child would pinch, hit, poke, punch, bite or kick her, just so that he could hear her cry! And that he seemed to derive a great deal of joy from it.
Her parents weren't much better. As long as everything looked good from the outside, it really didn't matter what was going on beneath the surface. Physical and verbal abuse, came from them, as well. They made it very clear that, regardless of what was going on, she should "be grateful to have a roof over her head". The child isolated herself, preferring not to make too many friends, because she was afraid that if anyone came home with her, and saw how she was treated there, that they would think that it was okay to treat her that way, too. And it wasn't! So she surrounded herself with things that were beautiful...literature, art, music...to block out the ugly realities of life.
At fifteen, her adopted family decided that she was crazy, so the child entered therapy, and by 17, she understood her need to find her biological mother. It took less than six months. The search itself, was relatively simple...mostly waiting to turn legal age, before being allowed to gain access to the files...it was the aftermath that was long, drawn out and painful.
The mother played games, right from the beginning. "I will write to you, but I don't want to talk to you on the phone or see you." "Okay, here's my phone number, you call me, during the day when the children are in school." "Okay, I want to see you...you travel half-way across the country, by yourself, and no-one must know who you are." And from the beginning, the child did EVERYTHING that was asked of her. At great financial and emotional cost to herself. The mother even got in a tug-of-war with the adopted mother. Not so much that either one of them really WANTED the child...but rather, they both wanted to win. The child, of course, was thrown in the middle of things. Treated as a mere possession. It was emotional turmoil, upheaval and blackmail. The mother took every opportunity to make the child's life more difficult than it already was.
Their relationship ended twelve years later. Shortly after the child turned 30. I can't say it was "tragic". The cold, hard truth was, the mother was not capable of love. And the child finally realized that you can only beat your head against a brick wall, for just so long, before you sustain permanent brain damage. She was tired of being accused of things that she had never done. She was tired of the lies being told to her, and about her. She was tired of being treated like she had abandoned her mother, when it was the other way around. She was tired of hearing her mother say "all four of my children", when she knew her mother had FIVE children, and that she was the one that didn't count. She just decided that, she wasn't going to do it, any more.
It's been almost 20 years, since she walked back out of her mother's life. In that time, there has never been any attempt on the part of her mother, to reconcile. But the gossip and lies her mother spreads about her continues on, as if her mother still knew what was going on in her life.
At 37, a relative of her mother's, told her that her biological father had always been looking for her. They were introduced, but it was not to last. Her father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, a year and a half later...and he died a year a half after that. She had a little over three years with her father. But, at least she knew that one of her parents had loved her, and wanted her. And that knowledge was worth all the pain and heartache that she had endured to get to it. Although his loss is still heavy in her heart, she knows that they were both better for having known each other, even for a short time.
On both sides, the half-siblings turned out to be parasites, who only wanted her around, for what she could do for them. After the split with her mother, even though she refused to speak badly of her mother to any of them, and did a lot to help each of her half-siblings on that side, by bailing them out of jail, sending them money when they couldn't find jobs...they all decided that she was a bad person, because she "couldn't get along with Mom". One is still in touch with her, but that, at times, is strained, at best. The other three act as if she never existed.
After her father's death, the half-siblings on that side treated her the same way. As long as she was helping pay their bills, taking care of them while they were sick, she was their sister. As soon as she became sick, and was no longer able to do for them, they dropped her like a hot potato! The only person she hears from on her father's side, is a step-sister. Although the bonds are not "biological", the bonds of sharing the same types of experience, are stronger than any blood bonds, on either side.
She has realized, as far as all of them are concerned, that it was THEIR loss, not hers. And although she would have liked to have brothers and sisters who she was close to, it just was not to be.
She has a few cousins, and aunts, who see her for the person that she really is, and not the monster her mother continues to paint her as. She takes comfort in those relationships. She realizes that we all have our secrets, our pains, and our regrets. Ultimately, it's all a game...and as long as you're still breathing, you're winning. Most importantly, she understands that her birthday is just another day on the calendar, and you can't place more importance, happiness or sadness on it, than any other day. No matter how hard you try, you can't rewrite history, and you can't make people love you, so you have to take responsibility for deciding whether you're going to spend that day living your life with abandon, or if you're going to spend it inwardly wallowing in self-pity. Wounds, whether physical or psychological, don't heal, if you keep picking at them.
She chooses NOT to thank her mother for the life that she "gave" her. She chooses, instead, to celebrate herself, for having risen above it.
She doesn't feel that her life has been any harder than most. She just feels that it has been "different". That difference has gone into building her character, forming her sensibilities, and warping her sense of humor. For that, she is grateful. For the true gifts are not the ones that we are given by others, but the ones we give ourselves.
© Josie-Lynn Belmont
She spent most of her pregnancy hiding from, and lying to, her family, because her husband was stationed in Germany, and the child was the result of an extramarital affair, she'd had. She had been living with the child's father, (who did not know she was married), up until right after she found out she was pregnant. She left him, soon after telling him of the child, because his financial situation was not as secure as her husband's. Her intention was to have the child, without her husband's knowledge, and then give the child up for adoption. But her husband's sister saw her, and wrote him in Germany, and he got emergency leave, to come home and check things out for himself.
Her husband said he would stay married to her, but she had to give up the child. That was no great loss to her, because it was what she had planned on doing, anyway. She had the option to divorce her husband, keep the child, and marry her lover. Her lover was even willing to adopt her other child, as his own. If she didn't want to marry him, he suggested that he take his child and raise her on his own. She even turned down a request from her childless Aunt & Uncle, to be allowed to adopt and raise the child as their own. She was, and remains, incredibly selfish, and did what was best for her, without a whole lot of thought about what would be best for the child.
18 years later, she would be reintroduced to that child, who would have done anything for her, and who loved her unconditionally, but she was incapable of love, so instead, she would blame the child for everything that went wrong, in her life.
The daughter would spend the first six months of her life, being passed from foster home to foster home. She was placed in a "permanent" home, when she was six months old. A year later, the adoption would be finalized.
Those childhood years, were NOT like an episode of Donna Reed. She was adopted into a family where both parents drank, although neither one would admit to having a problem. There was an older child, also adopted, who hated her from the moment she was brought into the house. For years she thought maybe she had done something wrong, that caused him to verbally, physically and sexually abuse her from as far back as she could remember. But then a woman who had been the babysitter for them, when she was little, told her that, from the very beginning, she would have to be held every second, or else the older child would pinch, hit, poke, punch, bite or kick her, just so that he could hear her cry! And that he seemed to derive a great deal of joy from it.
Her parents weren't much better. As long as everything looked good from the outside, it really didn't matter what was going on beneath the surface. Physical and verbal abuse, came from them, as well. They made it very clear that, regardless of what was going on, she should "be grateful to have a roof over her head". The child isolated herself, preferring not to make too many friends, because she was afraid that if anyone came home with her, and saw how she was treated there, that they would think that it was okay to treat her that way, too. And it wasn't! So she surrounded herself with things that were beautiful...literature, art, music...to block out the ugly realities of life.
At fifteen, her adopted family decided that she was crazy, so the child entered therapy, and by 17, she understood her need to find her biological mother. It took less than six months. The search itself, was relatively simple...mostly waiting to turn legal age, before being allowed to gain access to the files...it was the aftermath that was long, drawn out and painful.
The mother played games, right from the beginning. "I will write to you, but I don't want to talk to you on the phone or see you." "Okay, here's my phone number, you call me, during the day when the children are in school." "Okay, I want to see you...you travel half-way across the country, by yourself, and no-one must know who you are." And from the beginning, the child did EVERYTHING that was asked of her. At great financial and emotional cost to herself. The mother even got in a tug-of-war with the adopted mother. Not so much that either one of them really WANTED the child...but rather, they both wanted to win. The child, of course, was thrown in the middle of things. Treated as a mere possession. It was emotional turmoil, upheaval and blackmail. The mother took every opportunity to make the child's life more difficult than it already was.
Their relationship ended twelve years later. Shortly after the child turned 30. I can't say it was "tragic". The cold, hard truth was, the mother was not capable of love. And the child finally realized that you can only beat your head against a brick wall, for just so long, before you sustain permanent brain damage. She was tired of being accused of things that she had never done. She was tired of the lies being told to her, and about her. She was tired of being treated like she had abandoned her mother, when it was the other way around. She was tired of hearing her mother say "all four of my children", when she knew her mother had FIVE children, and that she was the one that didn't count. She just decided that, she wasn't going to do it, any more.
It's been almost 20 years, since she walked back out of her mother's life. In that time, there has never been any attempt on the part of her mother, to reconcile. But the gossip and lies her mother spreads about her continues on, as if her mother still knew what was going on in her life.
At 37, a relative of her mother's, told her that her biological father had always been looking for her. They were introduced, but it was not to last. Her father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, a year and a half later...and he died a year a half after that. She had a little over three years with her father. But, at least she knew that one of her parents had loved her, and wanted her. And that knowledge was worth all the pain and heartache that she had endured to get to it. Although his loss is still heavy in her heart, she knows that they were both better for having known each other, even for a short time.
On both sides, the half-siblings turned out to be parasites, who only wanted her around, for what she could do for them. After the split with her mother, even though she refused to speak badly of her mother to any of them, and did a lot to help each of her half-siblings on that side, by bailing them out of jail, sending them money when they couldn't find jobs...they all decided that she was a bad person, because she "couldn't get along with Mom". One is still in touch with her, but that, at times, is strained, at best. The other three act as if she never existed.
After her father's death, the half-siblings on that side treated her the same way. As long as she was helping pay their bills, taking care of them while they were sick, she was their sister. As soon as she became sick, and was no longer able to do for them, they dropped her like a hot potato! The only person she hears from on her father's side, is a step-sister. Although the bonds are not "biological", the bonds of sharing the same types of experience, are stronger than any blood bonds, on either side.
She has realized, as far as all of them are concerned, that it was THEIR loss, not hers. And although she would have liked to have brothers and sisters who she was close to, it just was not to be.
She has a few cousins, and aunts, who see her for the person that she really is, and not the monster her mother continues to paint her as. She takes comfort in those relationships. She realizes that we all have our secrets, our pains, and our regrets. Ultimately, it's all a game...and as long as you're still breathing, you're winning. Most importantly, she understands that her birthday is just another day on the calendar, and you can't place more importance, happiness or sadness on it, than any other day. No matter how hard you try, you can't rewrite history, and you can't make people love you, so you have to take responsibility for deciding whether you're going to spend that day living your life with abandon, or if you're going to spend it inwardly wallowing in self-pity. Wounds, whether physical or psychological, don't heal, if you keep picking at them.
She chooses NOT to thank her mother for the life that she "gave" her. She chooses, instead, to celebrate herself, for having risen above it.
She doesn't feel that her life has been any harder than most. She just feels that it has been "different". That difference has gone into building her character, forming her sensibilities, and warping her sense of humor. For that, she is grateful. For the true gifts are not the ones that we are given by others, but the ones we give ourselves.
© Josie-Lynn Belmont