Today I have just been cranky. Just point blank cranky. Every little thing today irritated me. I called one of my sisters today on the way home from town. I went in to get a few groceries so we can Mexican tomorrow night with Pizza tonight.
I admit it that I was pissed about the typical bullshit about adoptee rights. All that "birthmother" privacy crap. All that "Gloom and Doom" that comes along when a state finally does the right thing. Oregon, Alabama and New Hampshire all had these types of articles. In fact, I am currently reading a novel by Tess Gerritsen. The coroner in the book is Maura Isles who just happens to be adopted. Her twin sister was just killed in front of her house. This book is not a good addition right now for me. I am already angry. The character is walking through her life numb.
Back to that phone call. I asked her if she had heard from our first father lately. He usually sends a card but this year we had not gotten one. Its been a long while since I have spoken with him. He is honestly out there. If you met him, you would know what I am talking about. He is a superintellectual that has no basis in common sense. He is not emotionally involved with our lives. My sister made this comment. That door was slammed when we were born. This of course upsets my mother who has fought hard to make sure that all of us feel loved.
My adoptive parents got divorced when I was five to six. After the divorce, he remarried another woman and then adopted her daughter, Amy. Yes there were two Amys with the same last name. I was taught from a young age that I was expendible. It is bad enough that I remember the sirens from when the ambulance carted my natural mother to the hospital. Yes it does happen. Babies are not born with clean slates. We do remember our mothers.
My uselessness was further sealed by my second adoptive father. I do not even want to think about this as a possibility. I will however wonder. I am adopted. Because I was boy crazy, I was labeled a slut from the age of thirteen to twenty four by a man who I called Dad. Long before I became one for about six months. Then I decided it wasn't all that fun. You know what lingers in my mind? I will always wonder if this is where he got it from. This meaning the many myths about natural mothers. Did my second adoptive father think I was a slut because that was what the stupid horrendous attitudes towards the mothers of the past? Heck the like mother like daughter thing.
So you can see I have some really negative tapes in my brain. Tapes that are sometimes hell to fight. Adoption teaches adoptees that they can be discarded. Then you add human attitudes. Fathers who change wives and children like a pair socks. Fathers who possibly think that an adopted child is a bad seed just like her natural mother. I have spent much of my life fighting negative thoughts of my fathers. I have spent my life pleasing every one else around me. Then when I get around to searching, I have to deal with her fears, her shame, and her guilt. What really sucks is knowing that I had a father who wanted me but I got two fathers who would have rather gotten rid of me.
I get so fucking sick and tired of the fears of others. Which leads me to my next post.