Quite a State…

I don’t know what it is really, but this last week has been an emotional one for me, complete with two cry baby attacks.

First was when I was booking my ticket for NYC, my route to Philly. I am so lucky to have my sweetheart to lean on. He helped me navigate that, and listened to my ridiculousness.

I am very excited and happy to go to Philly, I have visions of telling real kids, “Oh my hairdresser’s cousin was raised by her real parents and she was fine with it…” because we will be the normal, and that is fun. Like Stewie said, it is like being at Lego land but we are the legos

Then I had a dream, my sister was in the dream. We were in my kitchen and she asked me to come to Christmas. “No” I said. Then I said, “I have no obligation to those people who have treated me like shit, no obligation to expose myself to them again” and then the dream morphed into something else entirely.

It made me edgy all day though.

My mother never blogs about that, she has blogged about me being “manipulative and needy” although omits that I have been to her house maybe 3 or 4 times in my entire life. Despite the fact that she doesn’t live that far from me. It is kind of awkward as her husband will lock himself in his room and not even say hello, I guess due to my “neediness” ha! I was there having breakfast once with Tomtom, he was little, and well that is how we were treated. No more.

So I had this dream, and there they were, my family crawling all over my skin. My mean, self-absorbed family that really has nothing to do with me. Of course my mother tells a different story, but not really— of course it is only decipherable to the astute, the last line on her latest post, “If I have been untrue, it was to me” I mean she has completely forgotten that adoption is not a self-referential experience for her. Then again maybe it is.

Whatever it is for her, I was the person most impacted by my adoption. As though that is relevant to anyone but me…

So I was teeth-grinding on edge all day, finally someone snapped at me. Someone who always snaps, someone arrogant, self-absorbed and mean. Perhaps we are related? We originated in the same area funnily enough, were actually born in the same hospital this person and myself.

I cried, I actually cried. Like a baby. I don’t think he saw me, I tried to hide it, but it was such an overreaction, I felt so stupid. Earlier that day I had been wondering if I had any feelings left to hurt. The thing though was the disconnect between what happened and my reaction. That bothered me more than anything that I was so out of touch with myself.

So I fled work and then decided that we should move again. Because lets face it, I am nothing if not peripatetic. I headed out to see a new place, with my red sweater from Cara on. I passed a man lying against a temporary shelter for construction wall attempting to catch his ball sack very enthusiastically. You can’t help but look at someone like that and think, ‘that is someone’s child, that is someone’s son, that is not what this life was aimed at when it began.’ and ‘that is very undignified’ but then what about life is diginified?

Aging, no not dignified, illness, no, fragility? Teenagers being shot over a minor slight at a party? Vomit on the sidewalk, but you know one must carry on and all that, and not think too hard as that spoils what is enjoyable.

I walked for maybe two miles, before I came to my destination, which was a dump–a lot of places here are. Slouchy, crooked, carpet in need of a good thorough vacuuming. This particular dump with a Giant BIBLE in the entry hall.

I wanted to tell the owner that the Giant Bible that everyone must kneel before has been used to justify every atrocity ever committed and owning one or quoting one absolves you of NOTHING. Instead, I smile and say “Thank-you” as I leave. A really rich Asian girl strikes up a conversation with me, and I find myself lost in the moment and happy.

The walk was good for me, I felt more like myself. I pass another crazy homeless man who tells me, “You sure look beeyoootifulll tonight” I don’t, I do have a cheerful red sweater on—I look weepy and sad. I remember H.’s dad claiming when we were in high school that there would be a point in our lives where we no longer resented compliments from strange men. I laugh to myself that I have indeed reached that point, and say “thank you” to him.

I reach my home and think, this is a very nice home, with real fir floors. My home is tidy and cheerful and lime green. I will stay here, that is out of my system.

I try not to be distracted with my sweetheart. I go to the kitchen and peel an orange. I really love citrus. The thought suddenly comes to me, “my mother just posted a new post” and I hit the computer. Sure enough new words form before my eyes. Her words, her talking about my life, how I was abandoned over and over and over. She doesn’t really comment on how she made that choice over and over, it reminds me of her telling me recently in conversation, in response to me relating Cara’s comment, “for some reason, people don’t want to hurt you, they want to protect you” my mother agreed and said, “There is something really soft about you, protectable”.

Which is true or was true. In jr. high it confounded me greatly to be called “Snuggles” after the cuddly teddy bear that sold laundry detergent. Jr. High was when I was attempting to be bad ass, before I realized that being “Snuggles” was a great cover.

So she was talking about me being protectable, and I can’t help but notice that was something she never did. Protect me, the person who was really meant to did not. Strangers saw me as someone they wanted to take care of, my mom wanted to take care of the kids she kept, her husband, her parents…

Yet, she pulls on me like a gravity. I know when she posts, not just now, lots of times. Am I more connected to my mother than other people? I don’t think so. I think it speaks to the part about families that we don’t understand. The power of the physical bond.

What is it like for people with no access to their own mothers? Do they have strange thoughts, sudden overwhelms when something is going on with their mothers and have no way to decipher where these forces come from?

Why do these inhumane practices continue? Who do they serve? I am not just talking about adoption, I am talking about the sealing of one’s own identity, I wish I could clearly define why it matters so much, it is intangible, but it matters so much.

Then my sweetheart calls to me, he has turned on a new episode of Be Strong, Geum-Soon! The Korean soap opera that he has become addicted to. I find this randomly endearing, but try as he might am not getting involved.

I do what I always do, withdraw.

“We are going out to dinner before you leave for Philly?” He calls.

“yeah”

Philly and Reina who now takes her dog for vacation to New Jersey…and that is funny.