(Oh, and a tiny warning - this is going to be a novella, so go tinkle first and grab a snack if you don’t want to stop in the middle).

Yes, yesterday I was exhausted too - or I believe as I put it “exhausested.” But yesterday I was also ready to push through it and try to deny the sleepys and embrace the exhilarated part.

Today? Not so much.

This is not to say AT ALL that it wasn’t worth it. I’ve had some good times these past couple days…well with one significant (at least to me) bump in the road.

*Warning: Expletives Ahead*

I have a fucking stye growing in the corner of my eyeball and it hurts like a….whoo - breathe, don’t go there. But damn - blinking is a pain in the ass right now!!! The good news is that even though it decided to make it’s entrance into the world Wednesday at 1 pm, it did not erupt in time to ruin my night Wednesday.

The bad news? It didn’t morph into pink eye so I’m still at work.

*Back to No Less Expletives*

So Wednesday night is a night I have been looking forward to for a LONG time.

Reasons:

1. I was going to be going with a boatload of friends…well more accurately a boatload of Benny’s friends - which means that yes, Benny would be there. I last saw him about two weeks ago and it was good times. I just haven’t talked about it too much, but I was pretty excited to see him.
2. I took the day off work so that I could relax and focus on the evening’s festivities.
3. I was seeing Cheap Trick, Heart, and JOURNEY.
4. Uh, did you read #3? Even the part about JOURNEY???

So yeah, lots of good things to look forward to. And really, I wasn’t hugely let down, which is a shocker because that always seems to happen to me. The day off part wasn’t much special because it was basically just a day off lounging with roomie at the apartment - but I dig it because we don’t get to do that enough. Add a Project Runway marathon and we’re in heaven. Well, until unwelcome Fucker [aka the Stye] came onto the scene at 1, but before that it was pretty good.

Then showerd and got all prettied up for the concert. I drove down to our friends house where we were meeting and gave a little wave up to the balcony where Benny stood. “Aren’t you going to be more excited than that?” he asks. Well duh, but not in FRONT of you! (Yes, I’m 16). So I quicken my step a little and get my big hug I’ve been waiting for.

Fast-forward to tailgating. We’re hanging out before the show, taking pictures, and all that. Benny’s being super nice and coupley and awesome. A girl could get used to this. (But can’t because he lives 200 miles away. GRR!) But I let myself anyway because I’m not going to be bitter during the time we DO spend together by thinking about the time we don’t. It’s all good.

**Possible Expletives Ahead; Haven’t Quite Decided**

Now I’m going to jump to the end of the concert and then go back to the middle, because I really don’t want to end with my mini concert vent. So here goes:

Know what I HATE about concerts? Encores. Yep, I hate them. What is the fucking point??? Can’t we just have all the songs at once and do away with this fake leave the stage, make the audience chant your name, come out like its a dang surprise and then play three more songs??? I just don’t GET IT.

Now I don’t blame Journey - or Heart for that matter. But really, was anyone fooled into thinking Heart WASN’T going to come back to play Barracuda? I mean SERIOUSLY. How fucking dumb to people think that audiences are? I get that it’s all part of the ritual of the concert experience, but it just feels insulting and patronizing. Do bands really stand backstage and think, “Wow? I was going to be done, but listen to that! THEY LOVE US! Let’s do Highway Run now since we didn’t include it in the set list!” NO! They PLAN to do it that way. It’s no accident that bands leave very notable songs out of the set list and then just all of a sudden have an “A-ha!” Moment about when to play them.

One of my favorite bands was this local band that NEVER played encores. They played the same song as the last song at EVERY SINGLE SHOW. It’s how we knew they were done. For real. DONE. Not “done.” Then they got signed and people knew them and they became a bigger deal and I saw them in a HUGE venue (not the usual House of Blues, Viper Room, or other LA spot). Anyway, they played their finale song like 7th and I was like, “Whaaat??” They’re set can’t be that short! Nope. They sold out. With a whole fake encore and everything. THAT was a sad day.

Okay, tangent OVER!

***********

So we’re sitting at the concert and it is BEAUTIFUL. The moon is huge and it’s outdoors and the weather is perfect and everything is great. Open Arms is playing and we’re swaying and Don’t Stop Believin’ is going off and we’re pointing and punching in the air and “hitting the notes” and we’re screaming that “Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it!” ROCK ON.

We finally make it back to the apartment (not mine, the one where my car is) at like 12:30. I’m already tired - too tired to get in my car and focus enough to drive home. So I wait. And hang out with a ZILLION other people until 3:45 IN THE MORNING. I get home at 4:30 IN THE MORNING - that’s known as 7:30 am to all you East Coasters - and groan cause I KNOW I’m up in two hours.

And I am. And I’m sleepy. And my fucking (sorry, forgot to warn you about that one) stye has made the corner of my eye miserable and pink. But not pink enough for me to claim “Pink Eye!” and stay home.

So THAT’S why I was tired yesterday.

(Seriously, I told you this was long - you may take a break if you want - this would probably be the most logical place to do that).

Are we back? Rested? Refreshed? Good. I’ll continue.

Glutton for punishment that I am I agreed to do the STUPIDEST thing I could think of last night. Now what I did isn’t stupid in any legal or moral way, just in that I’m already running on two hours sleep. It’s actually something I do quite often, just not under these circumstances.

What did I do that was so reckless and ridiculous?

I went to a 12:01 showing of Batman: The Dark Knight.

Yep. I’m a moron.

But midnight shows are so completely awesome. I mean there were people in Batman capes, a dude in one of the big grey and black children’s halloween costumes, a few guys with full Joker makeup (that looked FREAKY by the way), and my favorite: the guy wearing a pear of children’s Batman undies OVER his jeans. You just won’t see that at the 3:15 matinee on Sunday.

Plus, the caliber of nerd in the theater is SO up my alley. I LOVE it. People clap and cheer and that’s just during the previews for other movies. Once Batman starts? Forget about it - the crowd goes wild. Eruptions of applause when it’s over. It’s way better energy than at any other movie, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night.

And now, here for your reading pleasure, likely the first review from someone you “know” that saw the movie.

It was A-MAZ-ING. Here’s how I know. My sister - who has NEVER made it through a midnight movie without falling asleep AND who doesn’t particularly dig action movies OR comic book movies - stayed awake and totally dug it.

I won’t go into plot and spoilers or any of that….but seriously, I don’t think I could say enough how awesome it was. My ONE complaint? I think it probably should have been rated R. I got in a huge debate with my friend about this after the movie was over - he was right in saying that there was no gore violence to speak of and little to no cursing. True. BUT it was DISTURBING. There was the threat of gore violence and moments where you were afraid to look at the screen. I can’t get into this too much without divulging plot or details of the film, but I just thought it was too scary to be PG-13. My friend still thought I was nuts. I told him to be responsible for a 13 year old kid and tell me that 13 year old should be able to decide to see that movie on their own. I don’t. So if you have a 13 year old that wants to see it I would consider if they’re the nightmare type. Seriously. I know that all of a sudden I sound like a total prude, but I realized that 13 is not that old - and blood and the F-bomb are not the only two things that we should protect kids from. (In all honesty, I would send my 13 year old to a movie with tons of horrible language before I sent them to a more psychological suspense thriller action movie. Language you can teach isn’t acceptable - and once you hear it once, you’ve heard it. You know it exists, it’s not a surprise. But that’s just me (and another tangent…sorry!)

Going into the movie of course I had heard how great Heath Ledger was going to be. So I was afraid to set myself up for something that wouldn’t deliver. Instead - I was blown away. People aren’t talking about how good he is ENOUGH. Absolutely an amazing performance, and of course one that’s so tragic to watch with the perspective that we have now. But just stunning.

I hate the “Batman” voice. It was in the last one too so no surprise, I just always think it’s hokey. But everything else was so great you started to forget about it. Plus I guess it’s better than every Superman ever where the guy just takes off his glasses and everyone’s duped. It’s actually believable that people don’t know Bruce Wayne is Batman, so that part’s good. And Christian Bale was good. And easy on the eyes. Actually, I think everyone in it does a stand up job, they’re just so overshadowed by Joker….although Aaron Eckhart was really good too….especially during the whole end of the movie. Just see it, trust me.

So while this is probably the worst movie review ever, since I didn’t really talk about the movie, that’s what I got. Go see it. Profound, no?

Oh, and if you think I’m crazy for seeing it at midnight, you should have seen the people lined up to see the 3:15 showing. Now THEY’RE freakin’ nuts.

PS I really like infusing some color into the ol’ blog-ola. Might become a trend…

PPS I may or may not have gotten a response to my email - and by “may or may not” I totally mean that I did I just don’t think I can make this any longer, plus it’s Adoption Free Friday - so come by for Update Saturday okay??

First off, I’m exhausted - but more on that tomorrow - so if some of this doesn’t make sense, or if my spelling is worse than usual, it’s entirely possible since I’m working off two hours of sleep. And a side warning: tomorrow will be no better.

BUT I’m strangely exhilarated! Why you may ask? Why when I’ve been beaten down, felt hopeless, vented, and become frustrated with numerous faceless entities floating around the internet? Because it really does energize me. It makes me feel like what I say is useful. I’ve realizes that it’s nearly NEVER useful to the person I’m speaking with, but the bigger realization was that that’s okay!

These past couple weeks got my mind running around again - it’s kind of like when you work out (so they tell me) and you stop and get lazy and your body adjusts to the laziness. THEN something inspires you to work out again, you get back into a rhythm and while you may not LOVE the workout at the time, you all of a sudden realize that you feel good again. (Again, I don’t really work out, so this is mostly hearsay).

Now when I really think about any one particular issue that’s ruffled my feathers, no, I don’t feel great. I definitely have felt beat up and defeated - but I didn’t lay down! Now usually I blame this on my stubborness, which is definitely half true, but I have fight in me darn it! And I like it!

Plus, I’ve had some really awesome experiences come from the drama of late. First I got an email from Joy - who I never named before but let’s face it, by now we all know she was the “anonymous blogger” I was having problems with. And while we aren’t on the same page about some things, we had a nice exchange, which I’ll leave private. We CAN be on the different pages about some things - our own experiences provide for it and I would expect nothing less. But we’ve come to an understanding that I really think (hope) includes some mutual respect for each other. Also, it really felt like this weight was lifted. Plus, in a super awesome move on her part, she discussed it on HER blog, which was really a stand up move on her part. I can’t and won’t take back the things I spoke about during that time - I said them, I felt them, they’ll stay up. But they’re really just one part of this journey, and it’s something I think some of us learned from, including me.

Also, I’ve gotten some emails from people through this whole thing. They’ve led to support, converstaions, discussions, understandings. It’s been awesome. During times of drama and turmoil you look for others that understand you, you build community where there once may not have been one. I went outside my usual group of friends and had these awesome exchanges with others. So yes, the circumstances under which those relationships developed weren’t necessarily ideal, but it can make if feel like the drama served some sort of purpose. (Other than inspiring vent-y posts of course).

 

I think some of the drama is dying down now - and despite the silver lining I found in the past two weeks, I am glad. In some ways I wouldn’t trade the past two weeks, but I’m ready for something a little less…demanding? Always having to be “on” like that can take it’s toll. So while part of me is exhausested ( <–and I realized this after I wrote it, but I’m leaving it, I think it’s nice that I royally F-ed up the very word that is WHY I can’t spell today) - and not just physically from last night - which I promise - TOMORROW! - but mentally AND physically, I’m also inspired, exhilarated, and infused with the energy and excitement knowing that I CAN do it. I just don’t want to for awhile.

It’s kinda like running a marathon like that. Or so people that actual run marathons tell me.

**Warning: There may be adult language up in here. I say may because I haven’t totally decided yet, but I have a feeling I might just go there…**

I don’t like being told that I can’t do something.  I don’t like someone who has no actual power in a situation making statements of how it has to be or how it’s going to be. I’ve never claimed to not be stubborn. So when I was told repeatedly that I can’t (among other things) expect to have visits if they’re promised, yes, I get pissed off. I won’t quote others and drag stuff into here that doesn’t belong, so I’ll just directly talk about what I said.

And so I respond with:

You keep saying “you can’t” - well just watch me!

Yes, this is a little snarky as a response. Kinda, “oh yeah???? Take that!” But I think it was deserved. Plus, I elaborated:

I don’t think that I do actually have parental rights for what it’s worth, because unlike you I don’t think that seeing my daughter twice a year is very “parental”. Would you feel like a parent to your child if you got pictures and saw her two times a year?? Would that be “enough” to be a parent by your definition?

And I’m sorry, but I refuse to admit that the nature of adoption is that I become a doormat - which is what my post that you responded to was clearly talking about.

Yes, I’m my daughters first mom, and yes, we have visits, but I don’t think that two visits a year is co-parenting. Sorry. I just don’t.I don’t think that most people that are actually IN open adoption think that this is co-parenting either. I also don’t think that because I’m her first mom I am to be at the complete will of her Mom, and when she jumps I am supposed to respond with a grateful, “how high?” So it made even less sense that this person with no experience of open adoption made these judgements.

But the thing that REALLY got to me was that apparently my response just REEKS of entitlement.

Apparently I need to be hypervigilant to make sure I don’t talk to Cupcake’s Mom like that because it’s inappropriate.

First of all, of course I don’t write Cupcake’s Mom an email saying, “Uh, I’m due for a visit - set it up! You owe it to me bee-yotch!!”

What I write is much more like:

Anyway, I just wanted to check in, see how things were going, etc. I would love to get together again sometime if you would like. I know we never really discussed how many visits a year or anything like that, so of course I’ll understand if another visit in the next couple months would be too much.

Okay, maybe it’s not like that, maybe that IS a direct quote from my last email (which if you’re waiting for an update, I haven’t gotten a response yet, but of course I’ll keep everyone posted). Now, perhaps I’m wrong, but to me the email doesn’t exactly read as “Entitled Bitch” - but if I’m wrong, please feel free to correct me.

Having said ALL OF THAT, maybe I do think I’m a little entitled to WHAT IS PROMISED TO ME. Maybe I think that people SHOULD be able to expect what is promised of them as well!

Entitle as a verb has the definition: to give (a person or thing) a title, right, or claim to something.

If Cupcake’s mom has bestowed upon me the right to see her twice a year and has promised that, then I don’t think it’s crazy for me to expect that to happen. Or if someone signs a document - say an Open Adoption Agreement for instance - that gives a person a right to something - say X number of visits a year - then by definition, they are entitled to those rights. It’s not such a bad thing as some people would like to insinuate.

**Look at that!  I did the whole thing with really limited adult language!**

I am coming out of my Forum Hangover Haze. Last night some forums were going OFF. Late into the night there were dozens of people following two or three threads. In the process of posting one post I would click “submit” only to find out that five other people had posted while I was composing my offering. It was hard to keep up with one thread - let alone bouncing from one hot issue to the other.

And it’s not just keeping track of the plots of the threads and the cast of characters - it’s the side action too. The behind the scenes IMing or emailing with folks saying things in the not so clean version that you later post. It’s venting the things that you can’t just scream out because it would probably get me in all kinds of trouble. It’s jotting down the blog inspirations that my brain is firing out more quickly than I can get them down let alone allow them to develop into coherent publishable thought.

And then it was over. Not over over. But for me it had to be over. I had gone through my drunk forum phases: Showing up to the party and feeling like the only sober one there - trying to quickly catch up - getting into a nice groove of forum buzz - and then getting way too far gone way too fast.

Thankfully, I bowed out “gracefully” before I threw up.

But in the course of the night I was a silly drunk, an angry drunk, and a sad drunk.

Not in that particular order. And not exclusively one at a time or without repeating some phases of the night.

Today I have a renewed clarity. The desire to be more productive. And I think I have been. I shook off last night with a Forum Mimosa if you will…I got right back on the horse, because sometimes it just makes you feel better than dwelling all day with the spins.

(Too many drinking analogies? Sorry about that! I ran with the whole hangover thing and realized halfway through that it really kinda worked!)

The point is that this morning my head hurt. I had a hard time still grasping what some people were talking about - what happened to make them think that way - how people could be so stubborn that they refuse to even consider what other people say. It’s so frustrating. I wish that people could engage in debate with some rules in place or something. Maybe it’s because I was a debator in college so I like to adhere to standard practices of debate.

The way I see it, a person presents their argument. They have points (a), (b), and (c). Not necesarily laid out that clearly, but usually you can see what their main points are. Then you respond to (a), (b), and (c) and then add your own arguments. If you can’t respond adequately to (a), (b), or (c) you concede that they made a valid point and continue. Belive me, you can still “win” a debate by conceding to one or more arguments. Believe me. Not to be a snot, but I have the trophys to prove it. (Yes, I was and continue to be a dork).

So it drives me nuts (and tends to ignite “angry drunk”) when all my points are ignored except for the blind with rage spelling error in point (c) or something equally ridiculous. It wasn’t the focus of my argument and therefore should not be the focus of your rebuttal. It’s the debate equivalent of “I’m rubber you’re glue.”

But those aren’t the rules in Cyberland. So I learned the game some others want to play: Yell out your opinion and just repeat, repeat, repeat to get your point across. But I just can’t play by those rules. And neither will most people to be fair. Most of us really do listen and respond rather than just talk over one another.

I learned a lot from yesterdays crazy Cyberland experience. I developed a LOT of thoughts and opinions, many of which will the be the feature of posts to come I’m sure. But the one thing that I know without needing to develop further thought?

I’ve got a serious “drinking” problem when it comes to forums.

A while back I wrote about asking for another visit. I asked for opinions on whether it was too early and if I should even bother to write.

The answer was a resounding, “GO FOR IT!”

So I hemmed and I hawed. And I put up a forum thread about it. More, “GO FOR IT”s.

But there wasn’t really a day that I needed to have it done by so I stalled and was “busy.” You know, the “busy” that I like to bitch about when it’s Cupcake’s Mom that’s too “busy” to respond or schedule a visit. Yep, that busy

I know, I know! Hypocrite alert!!!

But come on! It’s not like she was expecting it…so really I was only hurting myself.

Then it turned out that two of my [internet] friends were having their first F2F’s on Saturday, so it evolved into Saturday being the perfect day that would be my self-imposed due date. Wrote about that one too…got some suggestions of how to start and what to write about. Good stuff, by the way.

Confession: I didn’t make it.

Remember “busy”? Well I was. Whoops.

Really I was living that whole “break” that I wrote about this morning. I started a draft, I stared at the computer, but it was like my adoption mind had been turned off and wasn’t ready to compose the darned thing. I stared at the subject line FOREVER trying to figure out a catchy title that wouldn’t be too needy or repeat something that I would say in the email or that wouldn’t alert her to the big ask: the Visit. Know what I came up with?

“Hi!”

Yep, I’m eloquent. But when I DID force myself to write it, I just wrote. Three simple paragraphs. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy. And yes, I did mention a next visit. Then without giving myself time to read it over a thousand times, change words, and take the opportunity to use every possible inflection an email can possess, I just clicked the stupid send button.

So it’s out there. In an inbox somewhere. Perhaps already read and just being processed. I wouldn’t be surprised if D was busy today or just “busy.” Either way, I get it

But this is the hard part. For all my whining and worrying, writing it was a breeze. The clicking send was actually the easiest part - go figure. Really it’s just one little movement and then there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s done and over with. No use crying over sent email, right?

But now I freeze every time my inbox has something. So far it hasn’t been her, but I assume that in the next week or so it will be. If it is, you can assume there will be some serious overthinking analysis of every word. If there isn’t, you can bet on whining and complaining. Which actually is usually followed by an email from D within about 45 minutes of me posting venty blog post. That’s how this cookie seems to crumble.

Anyway, lots of rambling, but the point is: It’s sent. I did my part. Now we wait.

Now accepting suggestions for distractions.

Yeah, I’ve been quiet the past few days. Tossed out a quick post Friday but then just needed the weekend off you know? I just need it for my sanity sometimes. I can’t change the fact that I live adoption every day - can’t change the fact that I respond to things differently than I did before, that I watch TV shows differently, that I react to conversations differently - but I can change the extras that I expose myself to.

The forums, the blogs, the news articles. Sometimes I just need to call “times” and take a break. The weekends are great for that. I barely even checked email all weekend.

Having said that, I can’t turn my brain off. So I think about things. I get ideas for posts and jot them down. I can’t completely shut down, and I don’t want to. I love my time off but then I get back here to the computer and I get anxious to catch up. I need to hear how the visits that happened this weekend went, I need to know how everyone else’s weekends were, I need to see if I missed something huge and if I’ll feel like the girl who missed the big party.

So Monday’s are a bit of catch up. But first, I have some actual work to do. And then I’ll be back for real from my weekend hiatus.

Nothing about this week has gone particularly as planned.

The most important change in plans was CC’s treatment. I heard from her yesterday and there were some serious snags. Before she went in for the treatment she went in for some prelims. Long story short - they found out through the prelims that she was having some heart problems on top of everything else. They put her on a 24 hour heart halter to monitor her heart and they found out it would randomly stop for up to 4 seconds at a time. THEN when she took it back they found an infection. They waited for the infection to clear and THEN installed a pacemaker on Monday!

So the treatment for her cancer has been put on hold for a few weeks until they can get her heart healthy. Obviously they don’t want to take her “to the brink of death” (as she described) with stem cell treatment if her heart’s not in tip top. 

But here’s the thing: She talks endlessly about how it’s a blessing in disguise. How if it weren’t for this she would have never known about the heart issue. She’s got complete faith that she’s firmly in God’s hands and that He knows what He’s doing. She is absolutely amazing - because as I’m reading the email she sent me I start tearing up worrying for her and she transitions into this beautiful monologue about her faith. 

She. Is. Awesome.

I am constantly in awe of her. And inspired. I think about the things I’ve whined about this week and it’s like, “Seriously??? She’s putting off SERIOUS cancer treatment for a stint with a pacemaker and fixing her heart! What in the world is so important that I have to complain about??”

And now, for some serious thoughts on prioritizing…

No, not a fight between cyber besties and cyber bullies, but an examination of the two.

I’ve come to realize that for some reason having “Cyber Besties” is some kind of a crime. 

I don’t hide my friendships, I thrive because of them. I’ve developed a close group of friends - that cross all sides of the triad believe it or not - but I didn’t meet them in the most traditional of ways. I’ve met them on the internet. Some I’ve even met now in person. One of my Cyber Besties introduced me to her real life best friend, whom I now live with. So I go so far as to say that these people are not just Cyber Besties, but are friends. It just so happens that the place that I interact with them the most is through the internet.

That doesn’t cheapen our friendship or change anything about the friendship and support that we find in each other. 

I fight my own battles, I don’t ask my friends do it for me. However, sometimes they will agree with me - I know that might be hard for some people to wrap their brains around, but truly sometimes they just happen to agree or to see where I’m coming from.

Other times, they don’t! Believe me, it’s true! 

But they (or I) shouldn’t be punished for the times that they DO agree. Implying that they are agreeing only for the sake of keeping up a Cyber Bestie facade is insulting - it’s saying that they don’t think for themselves and don’t have their own opinion - only that we have the same opinions: each others. My friends definitely think for themselves. They are wonderfully independent and are able to develop their own opinions and have their own perspectives. That’s part of how they became Cyber Besties in the first place.

Cyber Bullies on the other hand are also people that I met on the internet. Sometimes they bully me, often they bully others. Sometimes they just bully ideas or theories. There’s a lot of negativity out there and I’m the first to admit that sometimes I get sucked it. Sometimes I fuel those fires. Sometimes, like a commenter recently pointed out, I don’t do a good enough job hearing “Your hair is green” when they say something equally outlandish about me, and rather I go into full defense mode.

(Go here - I could just relink the link but I don’t want to take credit for it It’s in the comments)

I’m working on this.

The thing that I find interesting (humerous?) is that often my having Cyber Besties is questioned and nearly attacked, while the presense of Cyber Bullies is allowed. That’s different. That’s okay. Those are people that have opinions that are different than yours. You need to just deal with it. Listen, maybe you’ll learn something! (And often I do!!!)

BUT, then shouldn’t it be okay if it just so happens that a Cyber Bestie has an opinion that’s the same as mine? Does that make their opinion somehow less valid? Logic would tend to lean towards, Yes, that is okay, and No, their opinion is completely valid. It doesn’t seem to work that way in practice.

Rather than question WHY friends feel compelled to stand up for me, or I for them, it’s just pointed out that we’re apparently lemmings that blindly agree with each other. Rather than try to get to the root of the issue - why people need support in those situations, what spurred the situation in the first place - it’s easier to just focus on friendship? Seems like an easy way to deflect responsibility to me.

**I’m going to use a recent example - but PLEASE understand - I am NOT just talking about recent events. A post like this has been a LONG time coming**

Not long ago one of my not so secret Cyber Besties posted a comment somewhere. In it, she did not mention me, did not mention anything remotely having to do with me, nor did she even comment on the same part of the blog that I commented on! YET, it had to be said that she was joining in the conversation because of me. Because we’re friends? We didn’t even have a problem with similar topics AT ALL. But putting her comment on ME allowed for her actual comment to be brushed aside and not taken seriously or legitimately.

I felt bad that she got the bum end of the deal just because we don’t hide the fact that we’re friends. So what do I do then?

I’ve thought about not commenting on her blog. About distancing myself from her or other Cyber Besties in an attempt to appear more neutral. More so that they could appear more neutral. As a way to show people that not only do I have my own thoughts, but dang it my friends do too! When a friend comments on my blog I have to wonder - are they now associated with me? Are their future thoughts and opinions going to be tainted because it will appear that we’ve started some kind of alliance?

It’s all ridiculous (remember, green hair? I know, I’m working on it!) but it still bothers me just a little bit. Not as much as it did at first - I’m not letting it. And I’m not going to let anyone’s accusations revert me to high school dramatics. I’m not going to change who I am or how I behave because someone’s going to accuse me of being friends with so and so. If I become Cyberland’s version of the girl that’s looks dangerous and hangs out behind the auditorium smoking cloves to the point where friends don’t want to risk being ”seen” with me, then that’s okay. But I don’t think that will happen with my real friends. Because they know who I really am - that’s why they’re Cyber Besties!

**And to my Cyber Bestie that’s been busy - you know who you are - hurry back! We miss you!!!!**

I’m not here to deny the privilege I’ve spoken about recently. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot. The location where I purchased the necklace I have seems to make it’s presence suspect. I have to wonder if I had received it as a gift would it be looked at so poorly…if Cupcake’s Mom gave it to me…if I bought a knock off that was ten dollars instead of just over one hundred….maybe not. But for some reason I think it does. Especially as it’s the location that keeps getting brought up as much as the item itself.

I think people see something like that and make a lot of assumptions. I think people see that and don’t realize that I’m eating Cup O’ Noodle for 25cents apeice for many meals right now. Although last night I did take a hiatus and went out to dinner. I had two tacos. They were a dollar a peice. Oh, and I tipped a dollar. It was a nice luxury that I allowed myself to enjoy. I don’t think people choose to consider that spending that money on a charm that will last a lifetime DOES affect other decisions I make. Movies I won’t go see. Invitations that I will choose to decline. Walking two miles to hang out with friends rather than take a cab or pay the incredible parking fees near the beach where we met up. In all honesty (and probably a poor decision) the appointment with my optometrist that I’m pushing back because I’m not ready to cover what my insurance won’t.

Now these are privileged problems to have. To weigh two weeks of eating well in exchange for a charm. Some people don’t get to have that choice and eat Cup O’ Noodle either way. To put off an appointment to get my much needed glasses - because God knows I just can’t drive at night right now. The fact that I HAVE insurance. So I get it. I do.

I did not always have insurance. I certainly didn’t during my pregnancy.

Which makes me think of my life today and my life the day I placed. Here’s what I know:

• I barely had a job. I had two waitressing shifts a week at a restaurant that struggles when it’s not football season, and gets by when it is. Waitressing two shifts a week does not make enough money to provide for a child. They would not give me more shifts.
• I was sending out resumes and going on interviews a lot. But in interview appropriate attire I couldn’t hide what was going on. A sweatshirt easily concealed the pregnancy, the suits I owned did not. This pregnant woman was not getting any jobs. I couldn’t see past the present and my bleak job status and financial situation.
• I did have a degree. That was important to me. And much more importantly - to my family. Because I was the first of my siblings to graduate college once. Let alone twice. Of my four older brothers, half graduated high school. They all are manual laborers. There wasn’t a place for me in their world. My “place” in school and later in the business world was not an option for me. I’m grateful I was able to do it, absolutely, but it wasn’t a choice I ever made. It was a given. It was expected.

 

So while my education is a HUGE source or privilege, it’s not all that I felt I needed to raise a child.

Money isn’t the only thing that led me to any decisions. it’s not the only reason that everyone else places either. Some place because they want their child to have a two parent home. Some place because they want their child to have opportunities that they didn’t have. I was more worried about what my child WOULD have staying in my family rather than what she wouldn’t.

For me family history and the way we function in a “crisis” played a significant role.

• Three of my brothers had been divorced.
• Two of them were forced to marry due to pregnancy.
• The three children that were the results of the marriages have suffered immeasurably from the unhappy marriages and subsequent divorces through which they have lived.
• In my family, when you’re pregnant (of if you impregnate) - you marry. That’s how it works. We have not yet learned from our mistakes.

 

I love my neices and nephew, but I saw what the forced marriage and unhappiness had done to them and thier families. I couldn’t shake that that was to be Cupcake’s future. I couldn’t let that happen to her if I could stop it.

I realize that adoptive parents divorce. I realize that no one’s perfect. But in my mind at the VERY least they would have wanted to get married at some point. At the VERY least they would have loved each other at some point. I believed that they didn’t just give babies to people that were miserable and hated each other. It seemed a better environment that her Father and I would have provided.

And so the issue of Cupcake’s birthfather.

• Cupcake’s bfather had a son. And he made it clear he would be no Father to any child I brought into this world. He had done his good deed for the lifetime.
• He demanded the immediate abortion of the child I was carrying. Or else. To be honest, I still don’t know what that means. I don’t think he had it in him to cause actual physical harm to me. I probably could have taken him anyway. But in his dead eyes that day I knew that this man boy could not love.
• I did not want to spend the rest of my life married to that man boy. Not because of any selfish reasons of deserving better, but because he didn’t respect me. He wouldn’t respect our daughter. He didn’t care about me, about anyone. That’s not the environment I dreamt of for my child. I would not subject her knowlingly to live in a world where he could not show love. Maybe he felt it, but I knew he didn’t know how to show it. Even from his own interactions with his son. I witnessed it.

 

There was how I saw adoption.

• I have plenty of relatives that are adoptees. I was naive enough to believe that they were happy. Maybe they are and maybe they aren’t. I do have a much deeper understanding now of what they might be hiding from the rest of the family. But when I placed, the only adoptee role models I ever knew were happy and appeared to be well-adjusted.
• Adoption has always been openly talked about in our family. It’s no secret that my extended family was made through adoption. I have cousins from different backgrounds, cultures, countries. Their birthparents have been spoken about openly as well.
• I thought if my child could turn out half as fortunate and loved as my family members she would be amazingly happy.

 

Yep, I was naive. I admit it. Being naive doens’t have an age limit. I know now that there are things I absolutely do NOT know about their experiences, their feelings.

I can aboslutely say that looking back I see where there were flaws in my logic. Where I was wrong. But that’s part of the privilege that comes with time also.

Another one is that I got a job. My first interview post-pregnancy I was offered the job. I took it. I have a steady paycheck. One that has me basically living from paycheck to paycheck, but a paycheck none the less. And while it’s not a lot, it’s much more than the - if I was lucky - $700 a month I was making before.

So yes, today I’m in a different place than I was in November of 2006.

And yet there are still some areas of privilege that I haven’t gotten a handle on. I’ve had nineteen months, but not nineteen years. I’m learning as fast as I can, but no doubt time will give me more perspective. I may look back on what I’ve written these past nineteen months with shame. I may be angry at myself. I may not. I may change my opinions on everything - that’s what people do. We grow, we evolve, we learn things about ourselves and about others.

I learn every single day. I can only imagine what I will learn in the future.

I do realize that my choices may cause my daughter pain - but that was never my intent. And I do realize that me saying that isn’t good enough. But for that I only have to answer to my daughter. No one else.

I went next door for movie night tonight. One or two nights a week I go to Jack’s house to watch a movie with him and his roommate. Tonight he came over to borrow a movie. I sent him into my room to pick out a movie, told him I was going to take a shower, and would be over soon.

For clarification - there was nothing fishy about this arrangement. Not about having him in my room, or me taking a shower - yes the door was locked. Everything was clean and innocent. So is movie night. We live a very dorm-ish existence these days. They use our toaster oven, I use their blender and cheese grater. We leave our doors unlocked and sort of come and go as we please when we’re both home. It took some weird times for us to get here, but here we are. And I think we all like it.

But I digress. I took my shower, put on my Gumby boxer shorts and a sweatshirt, tossed my hair up in a wet messy knot on my head and started the long trek next door. I grabbed the blanket off the empty couch and flopped down, knowing before I saw the TV what movie Jack had borrowed by hearing the very tell-tale music.

Juno.

Of course. That’s my luck. 

I couldn’t just get up and walk out of the room though, so I grabbed a beer from the fridge, took a breath and did what I do every day. Hide this huge part of who I am. 

That would have been easier had neighbors not discussed parts of the movie - well, really, had Jack not discussed parts of the movie. It was little things. Comments of, “that’s not how it works” or “It would never really happen that way” and “Yeah, babies that young don’t have fingernails.” And yeah, some parts of the movie are kinda hokey in the “that’s not how it works” way…but not the parts he was talking about. 

I felt myself struggling to not correct him and impart my adoption knowledge. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s limited and not nearly as complete as someone that took the path to placement by going through a Penny Saver and an adoptive couple that have a lawyer, but I’ve done my homework and I got the impression that I did know more than my neighbor. But what am I supposed to say? “Here’s how it DOES work.” I know the response to that - “Oh yeah? How do you know?”

Then what?

The right answer? Tell him. Tell them. Open up. Don’t hide any longer.

And you know what? I thought I was getting close. I still imagine telling people nearly every day. I literally dream of telling. I imaging the conversations that will result. I prepare my explanations and eloquent discussions of my story. But they never happen in the light of day. Not while I’m awake and actually speaking with another person. But I was making progress in my world of make believe. I was so close to taking the monologues to an audience.

Not anymore.

I have been reminded of how others see me. Of the role that some will never let me leave. Of the ugly creature that people see in me. I have been spoken of elsewhere, where someone said - not in theory or in a general way about firstparents, but about me specifically - that I should have aborted my daughter rather than place her. That she would be better off. (I don’t remember the exact quote, and I can’t stomach to read it again, so forgive me if the translation isn’t perfect.) I have been told that I deserve nothing but pain. I have been told that I don’t ever deserve any happiness. Not all in the same place at the same time, these are opinions that have been spoken repeatedly over the past 19 months. I had thought that I had found some way to heal and to start to move past them, but this week made me realize that perhaps I wasn’t as strong as I thought. That I hadn’t come as far as I thought. That there are other people who take joy in the fact that I haven’t healed, that I do experience pain, that it’s part of the process that I deserve and shouldn’t discuss or strive to recover from. 

And so I didn’t say anything. I stayed silent on the outside while my mind was reeling. Because I can turn away from Cyber Bullies, or dissenters on the internet. I can block emails or comments. I can chose what blogs I read and what blogs I purposefully avoid, knowing the great trigger potential that they may have. 

I can’t do that in real life. I can’t shut down and shut people out like that. I pray that in time I will be able to share myself more openly with others. And I pray that I find an environment where negative thoughts do not prevail, and where I will be given a chance without hasty judgments. For a time and a place where I won’t be afraid to speak and feel that the only way to find safety is to stay silent on the outside.