Beheading The Hydra

"The Hydra is first mentioned in the Greek myth of Hercules, in the golden age of the culture (500 to 300 BC) when the hero, as one of many jobs, had to kill the Lernaean Hydra The most famous of the Hydra species.

The descriptions vary, but they always mention an aquatic serpent like creature that lives in a subterranean cave in Lernea Lake in Greece. It is described to have many heads (the number can vary from 3 or 5 to 10 to 100 to 1.000 and even to 10.000); the reason for this is that when you decapitate one head of a Hydra, two will grow in its place."

I have long thought of the myth of the Hydra as being representative of the complexities of the problems we often experience in life. Sometimes, it's not as simple as cutting off the head and waiting for the problem to die. Sometimes, we have to stand back and look at the big picture, see the monster for what it is (a big scary sumbitch) and gird our loins accordingly.

In the US, today, we are up to our collective asses in Hydras. We are surrounded by greed, poverty, ignorance, intolerance, injustice, malice and superstition. It often seems that if we gain a little victory over one issue, another two pop up in its place. We are frustrated, frightened and, too often, looking for someone to blame rather than trying to find progressive and effective solutions.

The US has created its own Hydra. It has scales of greenbacks, teeth of want, the anger of ignorance, and the poison of lies spews from its mulitple mouths. The head to be feared the most is that of ignorance. The blind acceptance of the words of the wealthy and powerful, the need to have others do our thinking for us and the assault on the human necessity of a good education has weakened us. People actually support those who would enact laws that are in direct violation of the these same voters' best interests.

I remember talking, years ago, to a woman who was sweet but not well educated. She was insisting that something was true that was not because she said she read it in the newspaper. I asked her what paper and she, triumphantly, showed me her copy of the National Enquirer. Ohhkaayyyy. This copy was stating that LBJ was behind labs that were experimenting on intergalactic aliens. I have finally realized that a biased and controlled media is also one of the heads of the Hydra. There are those who will believe that there IS a Bat Boy that was found, living in a cave and that Elvis was a secret agent and is living in Russia after faking his death. There are those that will believe the POTUS is a Kenyan Muslim and will never be shaken from that erroneous belief.

With gullibility of this nature, why not have a program on a so-called "educational" network about ancient aliens whose existence is postulated by pseudo-scientists with bad hair? Why not have Jerry Springer and Maury and Storage Wars and all the dumb stuff for dumb people that is aired on TV? Why not have religion trying to take over the law of the land? Hell, we rank and file Amurricans will believe anything.

I finally have arrived at the conclusion that we need to stab the Hydra in its heart. Our system needs renewing, renovating and a big cleaning job needs to be done in our Congress and various state legislations. We need to put new bricks in that wall between Church and State and reinforce it with rebar and concrete. Without this kind of action, the small minds and greedy hearts that are running the various shows will just multiply.

We can only do what we can do. We can speak out, stand up for the principals of equality and dignity and higher learning. We can vote, we can write, we can blog and we can, at least TRY to kill this monster that is taking us down. I have no idea of how successful we can be, but I do know that if we do nothing, then we deserve what we get. And that is the truth.

Strangest Bedfellows

I have been more political than adoption-oriented of late. And I went through a long, dry spell when I just couldn't, with all the other crap going on in the world, work up even a little bit of the old passion and fire. But Rick Santorum....yes, that's right...Rick Santorum, Old Frothy himself has geared me up for another go.

I will never understand mothers of loss who adopt. And you can bet your paycheck that, once they do, the adopter trumps the mother, everytime. I have a harder time with women who went through the injustice and indignities of the BSE who vote for the anti-choice candidates and are content with extremist, right-wing MEN making decisions about birth control.

HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING?? If we ever, ever get a shot at justice, it is not going to be on the specious prayers of the rigid, Dominionist right. As far as they are concerned, we are still in the 19th century and we are still sluts. There is a cartoon showing what the inauguration of Frothy would be like and it showed all the women in burkhas. That is NOT far from the reality that this man espouses.

While Santorum pushed me over the edge, I have been getting nearer and nearer to that precipice as I watch the GOP members of Congress at work. Are they debating job programs. Have they introduced any legislative solutions to the economic crisis? Hell no! They are too concerned with what goes on in our bedrooms and reproductive organs to do something actually productive. They are trying a strategy of flogging us with ideology while dazzling us with sanctimonious bullshit.

With a group of asshats like that in power, justice and adoption reform of any kind are just a distant dream. Yeah, I know the pro-adoption bunch sit on both sides of the aisle but tell me the truth. Can't we have a better chance with elected officials that try to respect the rights of women in general or am I going daft in my dotage?

Those of us in my age group, the mothers of the BSE, know what it was like to have no autonomy, little say in our own fate or the fate of our infants and living our experience as the daughters of Eve...responsible for the lusty behavior of the male 50% of our dilemma. We remember when we were held responsible if we were raped. It was all on our shoulders.

So we were good girls and tried to be the best mothers we could be and were constantly told that the best mother we could be would be an "un-mother" and that our children would really be grateful. Guess what. Most of them didn't like it worth a damn!

I had thought that we had come a long way from that oppressive time. But if we don't use our memories and if we fall for the Pharisee that shouts "Lord! Lord!" the loudest, we are going to lose some precious ground. The government will be in our beds, our healthcare and our reproductive decisions and we will be back in the same old boat. Screw that! There have been too many broken hearts, too many tears, too many relationships that are forever bent out of recognizable shape by an unnatural separation. There have been too many families torn apart too many times by people who HAVE NO BUSINESS MESSING IN OUR BUSINESS!

These are the same people who cry out for smaller government yet want to micro-manage the lives of women. We have to send a strong message to these good old boys. We have to boot them out of the bedroom and vote them out of our wombs. Our marital status, our decisions about contraception and pregnancy, our sexual orientations are not what government is about.

Jobs, healthcare, education, infrastructure....all these are the things to which our national government and our state governments should be attending. Any mothers who are in league with the extremist Far Right are into extremely strange bedfellows or else they are just masochists who can't use the brains they were born with.

Excuse me if I refuse to lie down with control freaks who want to tell me what I can and cannot do with my own body. There!

Time To Go...AHEAD

It is past time to kick the garbage out. It is past time to see the last of the Becks, Santorums, Gingrinches, Bachmanns, Palins and Limbaughs, the Boehners, Cantors and Mitchells. It is time to see the back end of the Kochs and Norquists and Fat Cat CEO's as they leave the halls of our governments to the people.

It's time to bid a happy farewell to superstition, to the pulpit-pounders, fear-mongers, papal fripperies, priestly foibles, funeral demonstrators and TV evangelical, power-hungry wannabes. It's time to open the door and push out all the flesh-peddlers posing as missionaries and agencies supposedly helping poor mothers, along with the planet-killers and abusers of all species, human and animal.

It's time to leave hellfire and brimstone behind and live the lives we were meant to live, with reason, and humane morality. It is time to build an extra thickness and height into that wall of separation between state and church. It is time to enact legislation based on reality and reason rather than the patriarchial prattle of stone-age herders.

It is time for men to leave the decisions about a woman's health and reproduction to the owner of her body...to HER. It is time to get the extreme conservatives and dirty-minded church deacons and pastors out of the wombs of the 52% of our population that claims them by the right of gender. It is time for all of them to get the Hell out of our bedrooms.

It is time to tell people, everywhere in this country, that you can be as biased as you like, but you better not act on it by denying equal treatment or enacting any of your knee-jerk eugenics on those who are different. It is time to render to our President the respect due his office and his intelligence and efforts.

It is time to banish poverty, out-of-reach healthcare, homelessness and injustice. It is time to allow people to protect their earnings and their ability to earn a living, to protect jobs and create more. It is time to stop throwing money into the military machine and start repairing our nation's infrastructure. It's time to begin increasing the quality and availability of a good education and lowering the burden for students and parents. It is time for compassion and common sense.

It is time to stop the rape and ruin of our Constitution and to welcome Lady Liberty and Lady Justice back into their rightful places, torch, blindfold and scales and all. It is time to stop being arrogant nationalists, snobbish isolationists and wavers of the flag and the cross. It is time to realize that our country is far from perfect...Hell, it isn't even close, and work on trying to fix it. It is time to take the money out of government and the bribes out of the lobbies of Congress.

It is time for each of us, no matter the age, gender, income, color or level of education, to have our say. We are the life's blood of the USA. Without us, there is no one for the power mongers to oppress, cheat or hurt. It is no longer just a matter of OUR rights but more a matter of WHAT'S right.

The harvest is down the road, but the seeds are being planted. We till our own rows, we talk the talk and walk the walk and then we reap. A long time ago, I learned that what is right is very simple, but never easy. It takes work. It takes courage. It takes wanting better for everyone..not just oneself. I don't have any quick answers except to keep talking, keep writing the people in government, sign and pass on petitions, pass out information and stay informed, yourself.

Don't depend on major media sound bites and a single newspaper. Dig deep, investigate, research and be willing to accept it if you have erred on the side or your own personal bias. Shoe leather isn't too bad with salt and a beer. Open your mind and learn.

It is said that a person with problems will only start to get better when they finally hit bottom. Well, I have watched for over 66 years as this beautiful land we live in has gone down a very slippery slope. Our technical achievements have far outstripped our social advances. I have learned the sad lesson that anyone, all the way up to Supreme Court Justices CAN BE BOUGHT!

Our puritanical attitudes are an international joke and the Ugly American is an international reality. It is a small world now. We have to live with other nations, and other races and we have to do it in a true spirit of cooperation. Again..simple but not easy.

I don't know why I wrote this blog today...I had been staying away from stress as much as possible. But this frustration, this grief as I mourn the death of human decency and kindness I see all around me, compelled me to make this plea.

Plant a seed, tend your row and don't let the assholes win!

Legacy of Greed and Arrogance

9/11 has left us with a curious and terrifying legacy; asshats, motherf***ers, and bullsh***ers as far as the eye can see, bad things happening to good people, bad people getting all the dough and all the power, and good people watching their homes burn or washed away in a flood and people in Africa starving while a bunch of pin-headed, self-righteous redneck, evangelical elitists and greedy power-mongers glad-hand, campaign and make back-room deals.

These influence brokers used the fear generated by the cowardly attacks of 9/11, ten years ago, to erode our freedoms and break the back of our government. Bin Laden got what he wanted.

Racist bullies, liars and hypocrites sit in their snug little ivory towers and rain down hate rhetoric. Inane/insane pundits burst our eardrums with their messages of hate....This goes beyond party and philosophy and into the heart of the human race where it is festering and about to blow. They wanted to use fear to control the populace. Well, good job, Sh**eaters! I am definitely afraid. But controlled? Not yet.

I fear a return to the dark ages, an elite class that celebrates the ignorance and fear of the masses while they control access to everything that makes life better...education, creativity, art, music, freedom. I fear a time when the public becomes nothing more than voiceless drones. I fear a bloody rebellion, a destruction of something so precious, lost because it was taken for granted.

I see the seething anger and/or the exhausted resignation of the millions who just want to work for a living. I see a wife entering a church to ask for food. I see a man gathering scrap metal so that he can sell it to buy gas to look for work. I see elderly people wondering if they will die in poverty.

And I see a large dark cloud harboring a hideous, tentacled, Lovecraftian monster with many faces; Koch, Murdoch, Bush, Perry, Beck, Coulter, Rove, Cheney, Palin, Bachmann, Robertson, Cain, Paul, Devos, Exxon Mobile and tar sand blasters, pipeline runners and mountain cappers...not enough room to list all of the dastards.

I see book-burning, church-run "education" and emotions, especially love in any form, outlawed and punishable by law. Orwell just had the year wrong. Atwood is a visionary as well. History and literature have warned us but we haven't heeded the warnings and are beginning to pay the price. "Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it."

Ten years ago, we saw the results of hate and religious fanaticism. It cost the lives of thousands of innocent people and left a scar on the face of our nation. I find it absolutely flabbergasting that the parallels are not recognized in the antics of Robertson, the Tea Party and praying candidates who fall to their knees while their states burn. Fascism isn't socialism, People!! It's intolerance and fear and iron control and fanaticism and it isn't just Islam that has a claim to those attributes. It is here in the fundamentalist, evangelical, end-of-timers Christian Dominionists and we should fear them just as much as the Arab piloting an airliner. There is an ACTIVE campaign to replace Democracy with control through fear, and to replace the Constitution with the bible. And YES, that would be a bad thing!!!

My time is coming soon, when I won't have to worry about it. I am in my "golden years" (*snort) and the worse will probably come after I am dead and gone. But I have children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and a legacy of ignorance, fear and poverty is not what I would want for them.

For every time I didn't speak up, for the times when I was younger when I was too self-involved and reacted rather than researched, for all the votes I didn't cast because I was too "busy," I am so sorry, my Dear Ones. As long as I still have breath in me, I will protest and write letters and keep the DC switchboards buzzing. I will support that which speaks to the rights of all and fight that which gives the best to a few.

I just hope we aren't too few, too late.

Distilling Knowledge

Kerry and Sam...1990

When I first reunited with my surrendered daughter and then my son, I knew that I was entering a strange land. All the maternal feelings were there, but there were kinks in the chain. Little did I understand at the time, or for years, how that gap in years, and missing out on sharing their childhoods would dash any expectations of a normal relationship and cause a lot of hurt and frustration.

I can see jealousy in my surrendered children, towards their siblings...not hostile but wistful that my raised children have something with me that they don't. It speaks to the importance of shared experience.

You see, my raised children, Kerry and Sam, were my babies, then my toddlers, then my little girl and little boy, then my rebellious teens before they became my adult children. I can recall, with them, special moments, traumas and happy times. My surrendered children were my babies and then they were gone. All the in-between was lost and I admit to searching, hungrily, in their faces for the children they were rather than the adults they now are. That was MY bad.

In 1993, I was hit by a storm of emotion and confusion, with two reunions in one year, just as I was going though a very tough time in my marriage. It took me a long time to accept and mourn the fact that what I had lost would never be returned. Those precious formative years belonged to someone else. And to say I was displeased with what took place with my babies during those years would be an understatement.

I tend to over-analyze a lot. And often, I have to stand back and quit going around my arse to get to my elbow. Accepting what I can't change has always been a challenge for me, but I find myself in a much better state of mind when I do that very thing.

Yes, I am the Mother of the two children lost to adoption...their true Mother. But they are not, nor will they ever be my little girl and little boy. Those years will always belong to someone else.

My daughter's adopters are deceased, but they are still a living presence in her. She often posts tributes to them on her FB page. Now that is not the norm for children raised by their natural parents, but what the hey...whatever floats her boat. I just cannot read those paeans without feeling a bit of a knife in my gut. I have to wonder if that is why she does it.

I feel the family connection more keenly through my granddaughter and her children. I wasn't there when she was a baby, but then lots of grandparents weren't. Our relationship is easier, laughter comes to us more readily and we don't try to burden each other with our troubles. And she gave me a gift when we visited while I was in San Antonio....the gift of her truth and the verification of a lot of my suppositions. The weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders.

Now I know that in any dysfunctional family, the truth is usually somewhere in the middle. But this is the first time I have really listened to my granddaughter and heard her pain and frustration. Once I had boiled down all this information to the inner essence, I knew that I had to distance myself from a toxic relationship. I would do no one any good by enabling them.

So here I sit, on Labor Day, having been greeted by my raised children and my granddaughter, and getting on with the bigger fish I have to fry. We have to figure out how to make our move to WV, on hold for four years, now, due to a badly damaged economy and corrupt, political shenanigans. We also have to re-work our budget, deal with the expenses we have without incurring any more and make sure we are covered, health-wise. One of my raised children is going through a terrible time and needs a strong shoulder on which to cry. Oh Bla Di, Oh Bla Da and all that.

And even that pales when I remember riding through the countryside of Texas, to the west of San Antonio, and seeing the devastation of drought and heat that is ruining the livelihood of millions. I watch the news when I feel especially brave and I have to do what little I can to aid in preventing our Nation from going completely down the tubes greased by greed and arrogance. I can write, I can vote and I can talk. Like I said..bigger fish to fry.

And as the song says, "You got your troubles, I got mine." My little girl and little boy were taken from me and I have accepted that. And maybe that tragedy will be a learning tool for someone else and a preventative from falling into the same trap. Instead, I am concentrating on what I do have, and I am one fortunate woman. I need to remind myself of that on a continuing basis.

Sometimes, you just have to boil it all down to the basics, distill your knowledge and go with the essence. Simple, but not easy...but then the simplest truths are never easy to take.

Life Is.......

When I was small, my first memories are of being held, coddled and played with by my parents and my relatives and I thought, "Life is warm and caring."

When my father left us in my fifth year, and I watched my mother cry, I thought, "Life is scary and troubling."

When I suffered a severe burn on my hand as a child, I thought, "Life is physical pain."

When I would play with my toys or my sisters and friends, I thought, "Life is fun."

In school, I thought, "Life is working and learning."

When I approached and reached puberty, I thought, "Life is confusing and full of strange feelings and thoughts."

When I became interested in boys and had my first serious boyfriend, I thought, "Life is being in love."

When I was a single, pregnant teen, sent away by my family, abandoned by my lover, alone, frightened and told I was unfit to raise my own baby, I thought, "Life is about debasement, loss and shame."

Each time I gave birth and felt that wonderful feeling when I held my child, I thought, "Life is about fleeting moments of joy."

When I met, married and lived, day to day, with my wonderful husband, I thought, "Life is mature, comfortable yet still exciting love."

As I struggled on, as we all must, through all the different highs and lows of life, I learned that life is all of that and more...joy, grief, peace, worry, fun, fear, loss, serendipity and epiphanies. Some manage life better than others. Some can't deal with it at all and decided to opt out. Others in my life have shown me the meaning of courage, self-honesty and, as my late aunt put it, "keeping on, keeping on." My husband honors his lost child by making his life the best one he can make.

But the most important thing is that I think life is worth living. In all its joys and sorrows, it is a miracle created by the Universe and something which each person makes as good as they want it to be despite the pitfalls.

But that good life can only be made in the environment of true freedom, where with rights come responsibilities to each other and our world and where each person is free from ANY kind of oppression, be it physical, financial or spiritual. We must be free from the dogma of the self-righteous. We must be free from ignorance, want and hunger. We must be free to learn, to explore and to be enriched by art, science, literature and music.

That is why we must not let the direction that is being taken by the extremist Right determine our future. We must say NO to fascism in the name of religion and NO to corporate person-hood and the idea of alms to the rich. I don't know about any of you, but none of my family, friends and associates are named Exxon Mobile. We must continue to say NO to racism and the encroaching idea of a Christian theocracy. This country was founded by people who felt strongly that the Church and the State should always be separated by law and logic.

So, to counter this, we must say YES to progress, YES to equality, YES to compassion, and YES to all Americans sharing the load.

When we do that, we are saying YES to a life worth living for ourselves and the generations to come.

Footnote* A friend posted this quote and I thought it appropriate to the news of the day;"A tyrant must put on the appearance of uncommon devotion to religion. Subjects are less apprehensive of illegal treatment from a ruler whom they consider god-fearing and pious. On the other hand, they do less easily move against him, believing that he has the gods on his side." — Aristotle

Of Forests and Trees

I have come to ponder, recently, if I have kept my focus too narrow in recent years. While I was speaking out for justice for Mothers from the EMS and open records for adult adoptees, a lot was happening in the good, old US of A. For instance, we were slowly being bought up and sold out by corporate interests and their government toadies and we woke up, one day, to a massive recession and fears for our futures. Say what you will about bubbles and busts...someone screwed us over.

Suddenly we had Rush Limbaugh, Glen Beck, Ann Coulter, Rick Santorum, and all the rest of them stirring the under-educated and over-churched to a frenzy. Where had I been? I had been dismissing these wannabe editorial pundits as insignificant and then I saw what they had managed to do. They played to the lowest common denominator and they played it well. I mean, how smart can the teabaggers be? They claim a Christian faith but revere Ayn Rand, a misogynistic, declared atheist whose only good point was her ability to write.

I have pondered on this quite a deal. I have done some ranting as well, but the conclusion I have come to is this. If we allow certain groups, such as the Tea Party, the Far Right Republicans and ALEC to control our government, buy out our supreme court, use racism, fundamentalist Christianity and hate to force their way into power, we can say hello again to maternity homes, forced surrenders and social engineering. All the progress made in the areas of women's rights and health will go down the drain, there will be thriving back-alley abortion operations and birth control will be tightly controlled by the powers that might be.

Education is suffering and the Dumbing Down Of America is almost a fait accompli. What else can one think when MSNBC gives an hour or more to the wedding of some bimbo reality star? How else does one explain such TV hits as Parking Wars and Storage Wars? Why are science and nature programs no longer on mainstream networks? Why are PBS and NPR having constant beg-athons?

As Wall Street and CEOs play fast and loose with our livelihoods, America, the land of the free is going down the toilet and into history along with Rome, The Old British Empire and all the others that fell of their own weight and greed. I believe it will not be an alien invasion, global warming (REAL, by the way), an asteroid collision or a nuclear attack but a rotting from within that will bring us down. It may take another civil war to save us only this time the lines will be drawn in ideology, not northern and southern boundaries.

We have presidential candidates that are totally ignorant about history and the meaning of the Constitution. They want to take it away and substitute the Bible and to Hell with the First Amendment. We who want justice and redress don't stand the chance of a snowball in July if these dogmatic dumb asses manage to win the nomination and election. Single motherhood will go back from being a choice to being a sin. A Corporate Theocracy isn't just science fiction material but a real and present threat.

It took me taking a step back from all things surrender and adoption and looking at the big picture. And my tree was part of the forest. I am 66 and while not exactly ancient, I know that I am not going to be around for the big show that may or may not happen. All I can do is try to work to save the forest so that we can still breathe and then work on my tree. It will probably be those coming after me who will see the results, unless the corporate takeover is complete. We did not see our sons, fathers, daughters, sisters, brothers and friends die in foreign wars to allow this to happen.

My son and I are discussing a trip to DC so that we can participate in the "Take Back The Dream" rally. I am signing petitions, writing letters to congress, the senate, our President and newspaper editors. I am supporting those who want to hold the line against a takeover of our government by the corporations and fundies. Living in a theocracy is no fun. Ask people in Iran, if you happen to be in a place where they can answer you honestly.

I am feeling the earth move as the shades of Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, John Adams (the elder...not the little boy), Paul Revere and all the rest rail in anger at the blatant rewriting and skewing of history. Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt (boy, do we need another 'trust-buster' like him), FDR and JFK are probably in tears, if there is an existence after death. Or maybe the railing and the crying are just me acting for them. This is certainly a piss-poor way to honor their memories by taking what they worked so diligently to create and making it unrecognizable and serving only the financially and theologically "elite."

In any event, before we take the trip to redress, justice and reform, we need to make sure the vehicle is in running condition. I shall keep a close eye on my tree, but I need to get the nasties out of the forest. Anyone want to help?

Bless Their Hearts

If you have ever lived in any part of the South for any amount of time, then you know that the women of the South have a way of softening the harshest criticisms by adding one little phrase:"Bless his/her heart." It's all part of that manners thing. Yes, I said that southerners are polite. I didn't say they weren't human. Gossip is as prevalent in the South as anywhere else.

I remember being at church one Easter morning when I was about twelve and overhearing what I refer to as the "Biddy Brigade" critiquing the clothes and hats that other women were wearing. One spoke up and said, "You know, I think Malvena is color-blind, bless her heart." Malvena (not her real name but close) was resplendent in day-glow, hot pink. Her cheeks were pink, her lipstick was pink...even her shoes, bag, corsage and eyeshadow were pink. I sang in the choir and all eyes in the loft were constantly drawn to that eye-blinding spot of pink in the congregation. I know she thought the looks she received were admiring and I had to give her an A for having Chutzpah (chooots-pah?) enough to wear what she liked.

These days, people are prone to just put out those zingers without adding the softener at the end. But I have a lot of hearts I want to bless. For instance:

The adoption industry seems to smugly believe that we Mothers are no threat to them, Bless their Hearts.

That PAP bashed me online because she is still insecure about adopting, Bless her Heart.

My child's adopter went into a nasty tailspin when my child found me, Bless her Heart.

Those folks seem to think they are more entitled to our children than we are, Bless their Hearts.

Everyone connected with adoption seems to think that we mothers should take a back seat and suffer. How silly, Bless their Hearts.

Gee! We are still treated like teenage delinquents and our adult children are still treated like infants. These people are seriously deluded, Bless their Hearts.

Michelle Bachmann is bat guano crazy, Bless her Heart. (Sorry...had to throw that one in)

So, you see that any allusion to or critique of delusional, greedy, arrogant and rapacious behavior, such as that which abounds in the world of surrender coercion, the Industry of Adoption, and the rabid market for babies can get the Steel Magnolia treatment by just adding a "Bless his/her/their Heart(s)" with a sympathetic smile, to the end.

Then you look at your friend, grin really big, and wink.

When The Myth Explodes

I received, this morning, a very interesting and poignant comment on my old post, "What Anti-Adoption Means," posted 9/09/2009. It was from a woman, here in Florida, who adopted a sibling group and has learned, the hard way, about the mythology of adoption. She was terribly disappointed when her vision of family was disrupted by the truth. She wrote:

"You know what? I totally agree with you, and I am the adoptive mother of 5 children (a sibling group) The two older ones are now adults, and the day they turned 18 they left us, found their birthmom on Facebook, and have never loooked back. We were lied to by the state of Florida, told the kids had no other options, that we were the last chance. In reality, it turns out we were the "last chance" the state had to pawn the kids off on someone that didn't need a subsidy or financial help. There were relatives willing to take the kids, but they were poor, so the state of Florida found it cheaper to give them to us, than to their own family members. Now I have to deal every day with the heartache of having raised the two older ones only to have them leave me for their biological family. I live in constant fear that the same thing will happen with my 3 little ones that are still with me. I DO NOT BLAME THE CHILDREN! Adoption is a horrible lie, it not only hurts the children, it hurts the adoptive parents."

I answered:

"Erin, you left someone out...someone that most adopters don't want to even consider. In the MAJORITY of cases, the natural mother suffers unrelenting grief and pain. MOST of us, especially from the BSE/EMS era, were not given a choice. Today, many SW's and agencies are coercive or, as you point out, don't consider the natural family if they can find people with more money. That is government-sponsored social engineering.

Rather than "living in fear," why don't you try being honest with the three you have now? Acknowledge their need to know, their primal grief and help them connect with their natural families. There is always more than enough love to go around.

You can't buy or assume motherhood regardless of what that piece of paper says. But you can earn your children's love and respect by realizing that they are not possessions but their own people. You can also realize that "as if born to" is only legal-speak and not a reality. You will always know that your children were born to other women.

You might also want to ask yourself why your older kids "never looked back." Did you place emotional demands and conditions on them about their relationship with their natural families? You have a chance to do things differently with the young ones. Face your issues and work with your old mistakes. Good Luck."

I can't help but be amazed that this woman sees herself as more of a victim than the natural family. These children were placed by the state for all the wrong reasons and now this woman is having to deal with the fact that the blood bond is stronger than adopters wants to think it is. I assume this was a foster situation in the beginning and those oldest children probably had complete memories of their natural family. The fact that they have a natural family that wanted them but were denied custody, primarily because the state of Florida is big on the social-engineering thing, had to have been a major factor in the "defection" of the two oldest.

But I would love it if just one adopter could be educated to the realities of adoption rather than the ephemeral promises made by the adoption mythology. There is the assumption of ownership of the child. Natural parents don't usually see it this way. We see it as our job to give the child love and nurture and prepare them to face life on their own terms. We don't own them in any way. They belong to themselves and they form other bonds where their primary loyalty is to a partner/spouse rather than to us. Letting go is part of love. And loving them, regardless of the choices they make is part of being a parent.

Adoption is the only arrangement where a person is never allowed to legally grow up, where the existence of a natural mother and natural family is literally ignored (and some wish would disappear) and where a fantasy is legally entered on the books via "as if born to" decrees and amended birth certificates.

No, don't blame the "children" (including the adult ones) and don't blame the natural family, either. Poverty is not a good reason to break up a family or take children from a mother. Have some compassion for those children in a situation that was not of their choosing and without their own kith and kin near to them. Have compassion for the mother that lost her children, many times through no fault of her own, and the family that lost their kin because they were poor and needed assistance. The adopter's disappointment, I opine, pales beside the grief of the coerced mother who has a child or children taken for adoption and the pain and frustration of the adoptee.

I was told by a woman who adopted during the BSE that I was a representative of her "worst nightmare." No matter how much adopters would like to ignore the natural parents and family (and how large those people loom in the minds and emotions of the children they adopt) they know we are out there. They know enough to, if they are smart, enable them to take a realistic look at adoption and learn to share and care.

There's that old thing about Butterflies and how you have to let go...I wonder if the reason these adoptees "never looked back" comes from being held too tightly? I wonder if holding on too tightly happens because we also loom large in the back of the mind of the adopter. Everyone tries to make a monster of the mother/natural family.

But we are all just ordinary people who either got caught up in extraordinary circumstances, got swept into the web of the state or agencies, or fell for a myth and acted out of panic. We are families who are sad when one of own becomes a prisoner of their bad choices and we want to take care of the children of our own but are not allowed to if the state gets there first. Nope, no monsters here.

Perhaps the expectations of those who adopt should be scrutinized. It doesn't help that the Industry, including the state, pander to those wants and expectations. The court presumes to do something that only nature can accomplish with that "as if born to" nonsense. That is the arrogance of humanity and social engineering.

And that myth can often blow up, right in their astonished faces.

Wheel's Turnin' Round and Round

Have you ever crawled into bed at night, so tired and sleepy that you can't wait to hit the pillow only to lie there, wide awake, while your brain goes into overdrive? I had one of those nights not too long ago. It seems that the more I tried to stifle the inept problem-solver between my ears, the harder the wheels turn.

It's not an uncommon phenomenon. My hubby is the world's worst at being unable to sleep in. Once he wakes up, no matter how early, his active brain won't let him go back to sleep. That is why I find him asleep in his recliner so often. All those thing he felt MUST be done, that wouldn't let him stay in bed, don't get done. It's a vicious cycle.

But I digress. I started thinking of all the things that I had discovered about surrender, society, adoption, reunion, closed records and the memories of my time in the Unwed Mother Hot Seat. I started playing "what if" and imagining what I would have done differently and how. I flashed back to April 30, 1993 and my first reunion (I had two that year...WHEW!) and what I might have done and said had I known then what I know now.

I remember that contentious phone conversation with the woman who adopted my daughter and I went through a litany of other things I might have said. When she told me to "cease" the "nonsense" of reunion, I just replied that I was leaving that up to my daughter. I came up with quite a few much better responses 18 years too late.

One of them was a keeper, though. It was a point we Mothers have discussed among ourselves on many occasions. Say it takes 18 to 22 years to raise a child to productive adulthood. Once our children have reached that point, they become responsible, in every way, if we did a decent job, for themselves. But, even though my daughter was in her 30's at the time of reunion, divorced with two children she was raising, the woman who adopted her still seemed to think of her as a possession...an eternal child. I wish I had said, "She belongs to neither of us. She is her own person, an adult. We have no control over what she needs, wants or does. Live with it!"

If we do our jobs well, and forge bonds of love with the children we raise, then there will be a relationship after they have left the nest. But their decisions, their relationships and their lives are their own. No one "owns" them but themselves. It is a natural part of life that children grow and go, form partnerships and start their own cycle. It is natural but it seems that, in adoption, there is an "eternal child" clause. Someone once likened it to slavery and it does have its likenesses.

There are many Mothers who have had an adopter tell her that she was their worst nightmare. That is the insecurity that goes with adopting. The one thing that the courts of this land cannot create with their almighty decrees, contracts, agreements and judicial signatures is that blood bond. That has to be what the adopters can't face. The fear of losing the child they raised to the Mother who bore that child tends to interfere with a fully healthy relationship. If they have done their job well, then that shouldn't be a problem. And it wasn't for my daughter. Her love for those she calls her parents never wavered. But their fear still invaded what could have been a wonderful reunion.

I understand the fear, but I don't condone holding an adult hostage to it. My daughter was threatened with having herself and her children cut out of the will. What should have been parental love became conditional. I felt sad for all of us. While I respect my daughter's feeling where the people who raised her are concerned, I found that I had little feeling for them one way or the other once I worked through the anger. It wasn't about them...reunion was about US.

All that should be a moot point by now, since both of them passed away within a couple of years of each other a few years back. I have neither resentment nor any other feelings for them. They were not and are not a part of my life.

Yet, in my daughter's life, their ghosts loom large. Though several years have passed, she can tell you the exact date of their death without having to refer to any paperwork. She still mourns and I wonder if it is them or the idea of the dream of the "ideal" life and family she had that she mourns.

My mother passed away 43 years ago. The only reason that I can remember the date is because she died at Christmas. I can't tell you the date of my father's death. I remember them on Mother's Day and Father's Day and sometimes will have a memory that makes me smile. I miss them but know that this is the cycle of life. I do NOT post paeans of praise and love to them on the anniversary of their deaths, nor have I held my grief to me like Linus held his blanket. Grief is a process with a beginning and an end and reaching acceptance and peace is the goal.

That's when I realized what was keeping me awake. I was trying to free my daughter with my mind. No can do! The only one who can release her into a full and happy life is HER. I can toss, turn, suggest, obsess and you name it and it won't do a lick of good. I needed to let go and let IT go. "What if" is a dangerous game to play when you need sleep.

I finally nodded off and slept late the next morning...if you call 8:00 AM, sleeping late. The problem was solved by my recognition of the fact that I can't solve the problem. I had a chuckle at my own expense, talked about it with my friend, and, for the most part, am letting it lie. I took a mental health day, yesterday. I didn't watch a minute of news, chatted a bit online with some friends of like mind, and took an afternoon nap with hubby and pooches.

It felt so good, I just might do it more often. And I slept so well, last night.

Too Much Life Going On....

I was perusing the web looking for images of women juggling all the aspects of life. Most of the pictures were of women juggling home, children, mate and work or even items in a recipe. That's not really where most of us are, right now. The world is changing into a strange and scary place.

Most women are NOT singly focused on home and hearth or even jobs. We have our philosophies and our causes. These days, it's more like we are juggling chainsaws on a tightrope.

In every area of life, including the area of natural disasters, we are all cringing while waiting to see what comes next. The political scene, alone, is enough to make a grown woman cry. Like my friend said, there is more ugly stuff going on in the world other than adoption and some of it is worse.

That is not to denigrate the pain of those still working through the impact that having a child taken for adoption or being adopted has on one's life. It's just that if I had to pick a trauma, there are others that are a lot more crippling. I listed some of them in a previous blog. It seems we have a culture of victimology. "Get over it," is a bit harsh, but "recover and live" is workable.

I went through rape crisis counseling. One of the counselors said that, for her, it was about going through stages. First came the victim, then the struggler, then the fighter and, finally, the survivor. Funny, but she never referred to "victim" as a bad word. Also notable is the fact that many Mothers refer to ourselves, as a group, as survivors.

It was also important, in our recovery from being victims of rape to being survivors, to place the blame where it belonged. One woman wanted to blame her mother who was so insistent that she be "popular" that she encouraged her to date the guy who raped her. Many of us blamed ourselves for poor judgement of character or for choosing the wrong ride home, etc. ad infinitum. The fact is that we were afraid to narrow our focus on the person who was the real villain..the rapist. It was another way to avoid facing our fears and memories.

20th century psychiatry made blaming one's parents, chiefly the mother, for one's pain a popular concept. Many took that and ran with it. It gave them an excuse not to take responsibility for their own actions. It is always easier to blame than to examine who might be the real malefactor in adoption. It is especially difficult to blame a faceless Industry, a long-forgotten social worker and deceased parents. It is harder, still, for adoptees, to see the role of the adopter in the mix.

But once victimized doesn't mean forever a victim. There comes a point when it's not important how the jackass got into the ditch but how we can work together to get it out of there. As adults, we are responsible for our own survival, our own actions and words and how we respond to those in our arena of adoption activism. In every case where I have sought healing, I have found the tools were with me all along...inside me. So, if we looked inward for healing, perhaps we could look outward enough to work with each other and pull that damn donkey out of the ravine.

This issue is not 24/7 for me. As the title says, there is too much life going in. In the areas of financial stability, women's reproductive rights, the direction of our government, climate change and world-wide unrest, we are very busy keeping those chainsaws in the air. Our energies are being spread across a wider spectrum of causes and crisis. For OCD perfectionists like me, it is overwhelming. That is why the sniping, name-calling, carping, whining and otherwise making everything all about you in the adoption arena is trying my patience.

I am taking some mental health days...one or two a week. I'm retired, so that is no problem. Those are days when I don't worry about anything, turn off the news, step outside and know that the Universe is rolling along without the benefit of my august worry. While much of what goes on might somewhat affect me, not much of it is all about me...not even what happens within my own family.

Life today is frustrating. We are all survivors and we have earned a bit of serenity. There is no reason why we should allow our lives to be chaotic on a constant basis. Put down the chainsaws. Get off the tightrope. Now, breathe!

Doesn't that feel better?

Call Me Crazy, But......

I've been less prolific on this blog for a while, here lately. I've not been withdrawn so much as...quiet. I've posted on Facebook, made political statements, chatted with friends and family, but I've not had much to say on this blog on a daily basis. The thought occurred to me that I might have said all there is to say about being a Natural Mother, adoption, reunion and the duplicity of agencies, governments and religions. From here on in, it's just repetition.

But the world is still with us and a friend noted, the other day, that there are more things in the world, today, than just adoption that are f***ed up. She's so right. Sometimes I hate to get out of bed. Every morning, I wake to a different world, with some small piece moved, removed, replaced or a new piece added. Change is a constant. And the ocean waves can be gentle or stormy. If I can't ride the waves, I shouldn't be in the ocean.

This is life. You either ride the waves or you sink. And we ALL get thrown in when we emerge from the womb and are set on our voyage with no choices as to how it begins. In the long run, it is what it is and what we make of it. I am finding that it is never too late to glean wisdom from other sources. I have watched people I love undergo positive and healthy changes. I have watched people I love continue to do the same thing, over and over again, and never get the results they want. I have watched people I love die, get ill, fight for their lives, succeed and be happy, be sad, and give up.

My son marched in a Gay Pride Parade in his small, southern home city. He isn't gay but he was strongly in support of his GLBT brothers and sisters and marched with the Young Democrats group. Some might wonder at the wisdom of him becoming involved in such a controversial issue in the middle of the redneck bible belt. I'm proud of him. And, as a wise father told his only child, a daughter, not too long ago.."stand for something or fall for anything." That got me to thinking. For what do I stand?

I stand for justice for the millions of young women treated like delinquents and trash during an era of hypocrisy and bias for the simple fact that they had sex (some coerced into it and some, even, against their will and most, out of love) and were fertile. I stand for the concept of giving due value and consideration to women, young and old, and their children. I stand for the civil and human rights of these mothers and their children.

I stand for the continued preservation of the right to choose for women and the right to birth control. My body...my choice. There is something enraging about a bunch of self-righteous men and their Stepford women telling us what we can and cannot do with our own reproductive lives.

I stand for the swift return of our armed forces from the dangerous and unpredictable places where our government has sent them.

I stand for the idea that any man or woman who chooses to present him/herself as one who represents us all, should have a complete understanding of that which he/she says he/she represents. Personality cults don't make for good representation. Intelligence, knowledge and acumen do. Integrity would certainly help.

I stand for a government who can combine enterprise with compassion, fiscal responsibility with a social conscience. I stand for the right of anyone to believe in and practice their faith...in their own homes and places of worship...but not to enforce their creed on us through our government. I stand for an end to fear as a vote-getting tactic.

I stand for an end to lies and corporate manipulation of our government. I stand for the kind of government we were taught about many years ago in school...OF the people, BY the people and FOR the people.


I stand for the right of all Americans to have a good education, a way to earn a living and a way to live and have a quality of life into their old age. I stand for the preservation of Medicare, Social Security and programs that aid the less fortunate. I stand for a cessation of the elderly having to choose between food and medicine. I object to outrageously, falsely inflated drug and medical care prices.

I stand for a responsible stewardship of our planet and its resources. I stand for alternatives that will help decrease this rape of the Earth. I stand for a world that is a fit place for our children's children's children to inhabit.

Yeah, most would say. Good luck with all THAT. You're right. All of that is a persistent but idealized dream that has been with me through all my quiet time. But if I stop dreaming, I might as well die. If I can't ride the waves, then I'll drown. So I sail on, getting wet, getting salt in my eyes, but still afloat.

This has been a hard and harsh time for our nation and our world and I don't see it getting measurably better in the very near future. That laundry list of stances I just posted is a big order for a civilization, much less an individual. If any of those things can be done, they will be done in small increments.

So that's what has been buzzing around in this old, gray pate of mine. As my ocular vision grows fuzzy, my social and spiritual and philosophical vision gets clearer and clearer,at least to me. Some might say that I over-simplify, but haven't we, our government and our society, over-complicated things to a ridiculous extent? I mourn what has been done to our nation, to our world. I cannot and will not accept that it can't be repaired.

It's just going to take a lot of time....something I don't have.

Never Too Old To Learn

Anyone who ever gets the idea that you reach a point where you have all the wisdom of life sewn up needs to be given a dose of reality. At 65, I am learning that you never stop discovering and you never stop changing. I'm a pretty stubborn "middle-aged-plus" dame, but I know it is unhealthy for me to not allow myself to continue to evolve. You're never too old to learn.

While I doubt I'll ever be able to tolerate the "B" word with grace, I have learned a lot about how different we all are, even with the shared experiences we have. I'm still anti-adoption but I have a more realistic view of how and when that institution might finally fall. It won't be in one night, like the Berlin Wall. It will take the constant and concentrated efforts of many different people, Mothers and the Adult Adoptees, chipping away on all sides to bring down that monolith. I doubt that will happen in my lifetime, but I'll go to my final reward still chipping.

I have been the object of some anger that was really misdirected. I have been dismayed to see us all lumped together as a group under that nasty Barfmuggle term, and I have been frustrated by the number of Adoptees who still see us as the cause and the culprit. I have also had my heart torn by watching these same Adoptees deal with their mistrust, frustration and sadness. I am teaching myself to remember that not everyone has reached the same level of healing and enlightenment. I'm working hard at not taking it personally.

I am also working hard at trying to help others understand the Mothers of coerced surrender. I really can't say too much about those who weren't coerced or who think they weren't, anyway. But when it comes to the whys and the hows of our separation from our infants, we are the experts. We were young, for the most part, naive, without autonomy, without financial independence, shamed, abandoned, betrayed and terrified. Our burden to bear is that we were old enough to remember it. The Adoptees bear the burden of the inability of our species to remember our infancies.

I know there are quite a few Mothers who have gone so deep into denial that they suffer from a sort of selective amnesia. I tried to do that and did manage to forget a few things...things that came back to me with a sickening rush over the first few years of reunion. Others are terrified that the house of glass they have built out of lies and secrets will come crashing down or are just terrified that they will have to face that trauma, again.

Our children, in our age group, are middle-aged adults, some even with grandchildren. They don't have a memory of the time spent in our wombs or what little time we had with them after they were born. All they know is what they were told and too often what was related to them was conjecture, urban legend and outright lies. How could they help but be confused and how hard must it be to trust? Mothers have their own trust issues so, though they are for different reasons, we're fighting the same demons, there.

My last two blogs have been about putting things into perspective. I am hoping that idea can be a healing one for some. There has to come a time in our lives when we stop blaming others, even our parents, loved ones, whoever, for our personal difficulties and start looking inward for answers. The social injustice issues are another thing, altogether. There IS blame to be laid, there and it isn't on us.

I strongly believe that a terrible injustice was done to us and to our children. I strongly believe that this injustice needs to be addressed, records opened, truths told and the entire concept of breaking up one family to form another investigated, thoroughly, and apologies and recompense offered. I also believe that it is okay, permissible, even good for us to let it be the rest of the time and live our lives with humor, humility, gratitude and optimism.

I consider myself an activist. But I cannot and will not live, breathe and eat surrender and adoption trauma twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You see, this old broad learned something. I learned that I, that we all, deserved better then and we sure as Hell deserve better now. I want my "better" before I die.

So you'll excuse me if I don't rush to the altar of adoption separation pain, anymore. However, I'll be waiting at the door to the temple, ready to go get some work done and then have some fun when you get finished there.

I hope a lot of people I really like a lot are putting their best efforts into healing. I still am doing that. It's a learning process and you're never too old to learn.

Another Day, Another Clarification

I wonder how many who read my blog on angst, drama and terminal uniqueness realized that it is about BOTH the mother AND the adoptee? I got some good comments and then I got some that, though complimentary in nature, showed that some didn't get it at all. Here is some clarification.

I did not say that what happened to mothers and adoptees was GOOD...just that it wasn't the worst thing that could happen to anyone in this nasty world. Mothers deserve acknowledgement and redress for the injustice and adoptees deserve the right to know their heritage. THAT hasn't changed. What I was addressing was this breast-beating anguish over something that can't be changed and that isn't as horrible as some of the tragedy that could be visited upon a person. I am a big fan of the idea that you shouldn't keep carping about something when you could be out there doing something about it.

The other thing I was trying to say is that NO infant has a choice about anything. Vlad Tsepes (Dracula) had kids. Would you choose him for a daddy? We BSE moms, and many of the moms that came after, were victims of an industry that had us believing we were giving our babies a wonderful gift of "better" parents. We REMEMBER being impaled by the sharp stake of loss. (How's that for dramatic?) A good friend of mine says that every drama should have a statute of limitations. After a certain period of time, it is old news and over. While surrender and adoption are not quite in that category, the anguish, tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth over it is no longer appropriate for most of us.

The name calling and thumb-sucking just gets to me. I had two children that were taken for adoption. ONLY THOSE TWO are any responsibility of mine. I am not the bad mommies of other adoptees. I do not owe you a thing because I did not have a thing to do with where you were or are. It is NOT all about the adoptee just like it is not all about the mother. Both parties have feelings and issues that are EQUALLY important. I have found that "un-friending" is a good way to preserve my serenity.

And both parties have a right to work through it and find a place of peace and happiness in their lives. You read on some sites and on FB and you would think that we all sat in our misery 24/7 and we don't need to be perceived that way. If you are miserable 24/7, then you need to seek professional help and find the answers within yourself. Ranting, raving and calling names won't change a thing.

The bottom line, for me, is this. When I was a teenager, I was betrayed, abandoned, made to feel shame, assaulted and suffered the loss of my newborns. That was awful and shame on any and all who contributed to that experience. I am no longer a teenager. I am a senior citizen and if I let all that happened almost five decades ago decide my current state of happiness, shame on ME.

To my adoptee friends, shame on all who really caused your adoption (the Industry, those who fuel it and society). But you are adults...some of you are even grandparents. If you are calling names and raging at all mothers, shame on YOU. Shame, especially, on those who refuse to accept the truth of the BSE and who lump all of us under the heading of birth things.

I have made some personal progress in recent years. There was a time when I would have likened our experience in the BSE to the Holocaust. Yeah, there were a lot of us, but most of us came out of it well-fed and alive though grieving. It is easy to over-dramatize just as it is easy to not take it seriously enough. Balance is essential. We all have lives to live and if I thought that I would be required to never know peace of mind or happiness because of that one aspect of my life, I would have ended it all, years ago.

And, of course, while the concept of a primal wound is feasible, it has, to too many adoptees, become THE PRIMAL WOUND (*terrified scream)!!!!! What has been done with a simple theory has become an excuse to consider one's pain more important and worse than anyone else's, especially the mothers. It has become an excuse for not facing issues and a way to blame others for their shortcomings. Hey guys! You are adults. The buck stops with you.

The ones who shout the loudest are the ones who want us to bow, scrape, prostrate ourselves upon hot coals while begging forgiveness for something that was as much done to us as to them. They say that they were the only INNOCENT victims and refuse to look at the times and social structure that made us vulnerable and helpless victims as well. Remember, that an adopter wrote that book.

Fine, as I have said before. Call YOUR mother anything you like, but I am not now, nor have I ever been, a birth thing. We want to help, but having it demanded of us, being told we owe this to strangers, those who are not even our own children, is not a good strategy. It just isn't the way to win our support.

Has it occurred to anyone that we have better things to do with our time than accepting abuse or dishing it out? Chicken Little says that the sky is going to start falling, today. I think I'll sit back, have a cup of Mocha Java, pet whichever dog winds up in my lap and watch the show. We'll probably grill burgers, tonight.

Now THAT's what I call "Rapture!"

Angst, Drama and Our Terminal Uniqueness

I first heard the term, "Terminal Uniqueness," when I was in treatment for my eating disorder. I was learning about depression, self-involvement and how we could believe that we were worse than anyone else and hurt more than anyone else and were treated more badly than anyone else. All that negativity, that attitude, I learned, is a form of grandiosity, a claim to "ultimate specialness." I also call it the "more wounded than thou" syndrome.

We each live inside our own skins. No one else can get into our minds with us. We are on our own in there. Too often we commit the error of judging our insides by the outsides of others. Too often we don't accept our position as just another member of the human race. Way too often, I have learned to my own chagrin, we take ourselves much too seriously while not taking others as seriously as they merit being taken.

While in treatment and after years of attending Overeaters Anonymous and Al-Anon meetings, I have come to learn that Terminal Uniqueness can accompany the worst kind of self-pity. This is the kind of self-pity where we are so sure we are the Lone Ranger, that no one else but those in our position can possibly grasp the scope of our suffering and where we place blame and call names rather than pulling ourselves out of the mire of angst indulgence. This is the "warm pile of shit" they talk about in program. You sit in it so long that it becomes comfortable and you ignore the smell. This is where the fear of the unknown is too great to put aside the devil you know and reach out.

I noted, on my Facebook page, that coerced surrender to adoption and being adopted are not the worst or the only traumas people can experience. I was challenged, by an adopted person, to prove that by naming another experience that might be worse.

OK...try this one. During WWII, the Japanese invaded China. One story tells of a woman who watched the Japanese soldiers kill each of her children and her husband before her eyes and then, rape her repeatedly before taking her a prisoner and forcing her to serve as a "comfort woman"....an unpaid concubine for the Japanese troops. For her, rape became a nightly occurrence. She survived but was totally broken.

A friend of mine had a daughter who had fallen into bad company, was in a relationship with an abusive boyfriend by whom she had children and drugs were involved. My friend had managed to gain custody of her grandchildren right before her daughter's boyfriend beat her so badly he killed her, then cleaned her up, dressed her, put her in the tub and tried to say she went into convulsions. Right after that, this same friend lost her only son to injuries sustained long before in a motorcycle accident and her husband died a few short weeks later. They were not yet in their 60's.

In a little town in SC, three little children watched in horror as their mother put the barrel of a pistol in her mouth and pulled the trigger. Another child, coming home from school, found her mother hanging from the exposed beams in their den...she had hanged herself. A mother came home from work to find her son on the floor, dead from inhaling propane in a self-improvised gas chamber. A man went to his son's house to take him some food, hopefully to cheer him up after a painful break-up only to find him in his blood-spattered bedroom, a victim of his own hopelessness.

In famine-beset parts of the world, mothers watch their children die of hunger while they, themselves, slowly starve to death. People suffer long, slow, painful diseases that can only end in death while their helpless families watch. Children are kidnapped, tortured and killed by perverts. Shall I go on?

So "you got your troubles, I got mine." I refuse to pity myself and I am uncomfortable with pitying anyone else. Pity is not respect. Compassion can only go so far. I hate to see people doing what I once did...sucking on their resentment like a child sucking his thumb. Hate, resentment and derision hurt the person doing the hating worse than the hated. Resentment is a poison and stereotyping the objects of resentment is compounding the dose you consume.

I hate to come off sounding "preachy" but I am telling you what I have learned in hopes it might help you. If this causes one person to count their blessings and re-think their self-involvement, then I will be happy.

I've been molested and raped, but I don't think that all men are rapists or molesters. I was forced to surrender my two firstborn children to the adoption machine because my parents were ashamed, but I no longer resent my parents and I know that not all parents are bad. To carry that resentment with me would not be playing fair with myself or my loved ones. No one should live in pain for a lifetime over what was done to them when they were young and vulnerable.

Another mother and I were discussing how painful it was to talk about the fathers of our firstborns to them. The reasons were varied except for one...we loved these guys, very deeply, and they failed us. That was when she told me about the idea of recalling that piece of ourselves we left with these men and letting go. I thought I had done that, but I hadn't. Betrayal and abandonment was our lot, but it is not our identity. It was past time to move on with THAT one.

How much potential friendship must we lose...how much comfort and help must we turn aside until we just put on our big girl and boy drawers and get over ourselves? How many of us must shake our heads, sadly, realize that we tried and move on to living our own lives when we could have made a difference but for the resistance of the Terminally Unique?

I am sorry for such a downer of a blog post, but it was time for it. We are all special to someone and should be to ourselves. But that Terminal Uniqueness is dangerous stuff. To denigrate the pain experience of another and compare it to our own as being lesser-than is arrogant.

I am sick and tired of pleading the case of the BSE mothers to those who refuse to accept or listen because they are too busy sucking their thumbs of resentment. All you get from doing that is an unhappy life and a pruny thumb.

Puzzles

I'm just doing some mental meandering, today. Perhaps, if I get these scattered thoughts out of my system, I can get a bit of focus going. For instance;

Why is it that almost every nasty, belligerent, argumentative comment on a blog is posted by some cat named "Anonymous?"

Why is it that misery not only loves company, but insists on repeatedly inviting you even after you have declined all previous invitations?

Why is it that so many people resist taking responsibility for their own responses and emotional welfare?

Why do adults continue to blame their parents for their bad behavior?

Why is it that we note other people with their heads up their butts while peeking out of our own anal orifices?

Why is it that some do not learn that the only ways to get respect are to (a) give respect and (b) respect yourself?

Why does it take us repeated attempts and failures before we realize that we cannot reason with (a) a drunk (b) a bigot (c) a door-to-door evangelist (d) a fanatic of any religion (e) drama queens and kings (*see the misery loves company question) (f) ultra-conservatives (g) an adopter or potential adopter (h)Donald Trump?

Why are there conspiracy theorists when there is no conspiracy and none to be found when there IS one?

Why are we, in the 21st century, having to fight to have our children taught pure science without religion? Creationism is NOT science.

Why would anyone vote for a guy named after a salamander for president?

Why does a biased media insist on calling itself "fair and balanced?"

Why do some people think it is OK to execute a prisoner but a sin to terminate an early pregnancy?

Why does anyone think it is any of their business what a woman does with respect to her own body?

Why does it take us so long to understand that we cannot "fix" other people or fix things for other people?

Why do Face book gamers think I want to mess with their farm, their fish, their questions or accept applications that will screw with my computer?

Why do I respond to demands by digging in my heels?

Why does anyone think they have a right to make demands of me?

Why are fanatically religious men so afraid of women?

Why did Princess Beatrice wear that hat?

And, Why, WHY does my female Rat Terrier go roll in the dirt the day after we bathe her?

An inquiring mind knows a lot of the answers but still likes to ask the questions.

It's OVER

While I don't have the problem with Mother's Day that I used to have, I am still glad it is behind us..glad for a lot of people I know for whom it is a painful day, a day just to get through in one piece.

My Mother's day was lovely. While I had moments of missing my Mama, very much, I am more into being grateful that we had her for the time we did. She was special. And I have no regrets about my own motherhood, anymore. I did the best I could with what I had to do with at the time and, in the case of my two oldest, did the only thing I was allowed to do. My children were lovely, attentive and treated me like a queen. It was so nice. Hubby even came across with a nice gift, I didn't have to cook or do laundry or anything and it was Heaven.

But for so many people who were adopted and so many mothers who had their children taken for adoption, Mother's Day is torture. If they are still searching, closed records are a special source of irritation to them. Closed records, though, are irritating to all involved, Mothers and Adult Adoptees, reunited or not.

I can remember when every Mother's Day was bittersweet for me...sweet because I was raising two wonderful children, and bitter because there were two others that were not with me. It also took me a while to deal with Mother's Day after my own Mother suddenly passed away at the young age of 46.

I know Mothers and Adult Adoptees who have been rejected and have no reunion, even though they now know who and where. For them, the second Sunday in May is not a happy day. So much in their lives is unresolved. I have a dear Mother friend and a sweet (but effectively bitchy..LOL) Adoptee friend about whom I have special thoughts on Mother's Day. Hope is hard to have in some situations. They have pretty much been shown the door, thanks but no thanks, don't call me, don't come around, na na na na, hey hey, goodbye! I personally cannot understand such  behavior and think it is execrable, but it happens.

That's when we have to look within to find what we need in life. I had a friend whose Mother died in childbirth and her father just sort of wandered off. She was raised by an aunt. She managed. I have a friend whose daughter was beaten to death by her boyfriend. She has, since, lost another adult child and her husband. She manages.  My own husband's world was rocked by the suicide of his only child, a confused teenager. He has gone on to make his life mean something as a tribute to his son.

Their secret is no secret. They cherish life. They know that they are responsible for their own happiness and they don't lay the burden of their self-worth on the shoulders of others. It is when we immerse ourselves in the erroneous idea that the rejections we receive reflect on us rather than the rejectors, that we lose ourselves in pain. Adopted or not, Surrendering Mother or not, life is a crap shoot and we take the numbers that are thrown. We have the ball and we have to make the game a good one. No one else, no one event or person, can fill the cup. We fill our own cups and the better the attitude the more palatable the drink.

I am not trying to diminish the pain of anyone else. It is what it is. All I am doing with this post is offering a way to build a ladder and climb out of the pit. For some, like me, it takes a lot of counseling and some painful, personal epiphanies to get above ground level. It also takes a real and strong desire to get past the pain and learn how to deal with life. If you are there and are not fearful of being honest with yourself, it can be done. Things won't be perfect, but you will know how to sail the sea of life and how to patch your boat when your run into the reefs.

As I watched the devastation unfold in Japan, and the twisted wreckage of the American tornado outbreak, I had to realize that our trauma, while painful and worthy of recognition, is not the only kind of pain that can be visited upon the human psyche. It is not the worst or the best...it just is one among many. None of us are the Lone Ranger of emotional pain and suffering. What about the Mother in the famine areas of Africa who watches her child starve to death while she starves, too? There's an abundance of suckage, there.

Yes, there is a dark side to life, everywhere, just like we have learned about the darkness of surrender and adoption. But there are also macaroni necklaces, little handprints, double flowers, "edible bouquets," jokes, silliness, good books and music to dream by. You lose some, you gain some. I'm sitting in our doctor's office, right now, while hubby is getting his check-up. He has some problems, but he IS 71. He is actually in pretty good shape and the doctor is pleased...so far. Yay...small miracles and tiny bits of sunshine. I am learning to keep these things in my pocket and pull them out when the gray days hit.

To all my friends who struggled through Mother's Day, it's MONDAY!! It's over and you might want to look for something about which you can be happy as your self-assigned, Monday chore. It's there if you look hard enough. It won't make the bad part go away. But it balances those scales and life IS a balancing act. I also send you all the warmest and most sincere hugs I have to give because I know what it's like.

So, that is my post-Mother's Day wish for all. May you have balance, hugs and happy moments.

In the final analysis, what else is there?

Shutting Out The Noise

I've been going through some notes taken while in counseling/treatment for an eating disorder. I've applied the twelve-step program to a lot of things in my life. Sometimes I get off track, but I usually have a good friend speak up or a word on a page stand out to get me back into what works for me. Lately, it has been hard. The world has been overwhelming.

We  have been overwhelmed by our own struggles as well. At times, there is so much real life happening that it's hard to stand back, look at things objectively and get back to work on that for which we can do something worthwhile..ourselves.

I read something from my didactics notes, something simple that has been said in so many different ways but is true no matter how it's said. "I can only deal with one life at a time...MINE." Those among us who are terminally unique might think they can control the flood but all they do is stir the waters. Those who go into emotional melt-down at every occurrence or fly off the handle at the reactions of others are making it all about them.

Late Sunday night, a number of euphoric crowds burst into celebration. It was cathartic. It was the marking of an action that closed the era of a mad man, a  resurgence of national pride, and it gave hope to these people. It wasn't done to offend any sensibilities. It was also not up to anyone else to judge their reaction as appropriate or inappropriate. Should all the OBCs be made available and the issues of mothers whose children were taken for adoption be addressed, we would probably have a bit of a wing-ding, ourselves and that would probably offend a lot of adopters and adoption professionals. But, Justice is a heady thing. So, it would suck to be them.

Making all that happens all about oneself is the truest form of ego run rampant. I have seen people brought to their knees in fear and angst or spurred to aloof criticism by the execution of Bin Laden, like they are the only people with any interests or involvement or even a valid response in and to this event. The fact that this will have a major historical and cultural impact seems to have passed by the radar of many. They seem too busy judging and finding something lacking in the responses of others.

People are "tired of this" and "sick of that" and I have to wonder what is beneath that emotional elitism. Yeah, I get sick and tired of a lot of things. I dislike ugly, partisan politics but it is a part of our real lives so I chose a party that comes the closest to what I believe without following blindly, and say what I truly think about the other guys. If you don't like it, don't read it. I would normally think that I am the last person on anyone's mind if I hadn't been "semi-quoted." That's always a shock to my system but, hey, I calls em like I sees em.

In examining my own tendencies towards terminal uniqueness, I have had to remember something I sometimes tend to forget. We might all be together on the issues of surrender, records, adoption, etc., but we are all individuals with our own political, religious and social ideas and opinions. I cannot please everyone or be everything to everyone. I do not have to think, feel or believe down the line with my sisters and brothers in this arena for what I believe or what they believe to be valid.

Meanwhile, we are living our own lives, each of us. We can face disappointment, worry and frustrations on an individual basis without taking on the emotions and trying to control the responses of everyone else around us. We are arrogant when we cry the tears that rightfully belong to another. And another's criticism/judgment of me is not really about me...it's about them and there is not a damn thing I can do about that. Conversely, others can be sure if I disagree with them, it is about me. My opinions, ideas, thoughts and actions are my own, for good or ill. But I will not go into a tailspin of psychological angst over any of it. That makes me as guilty as anyone else of making it all about me.

So, the killing of Bin Laden is only about me insofar as I am a patriotic American. There, it ends. I am a Senior Citizen and a woman with daughters, a granddaughter and a great-granddaughter. I am a mother whose two oldest children were taken for adoption. Those issues that affect those areas of my life are important to me.

It's open season on Donald Trump and Sarah Palin for comic relief. Oh, and dark humor is appreciated...well, here, anyway.