Have you ever woken up one day, looked at the mirror, and flinched? I can't remember a time where I've looked in a mirror and liked what I saw. In fact, my life is a sham of what it should be. You see, I am a person, a mother, a daughter, a wife, and a sister. I have become so accustomed to not say things that will hurt feelings, upset opinions, or give away too much information. In a way, in last eight years of my life, I have come to censor my self. The thing about censoring your self is that it kills the parts of you that make you who you are. I never talk about my past or my feelings, and I hide away parts that I am not proud of. Parts that although stupid, and a black mark on my life, taught me such amazing thing's. I never vocalize the things that I feel, the emotions that then become pent up and boil over leaving your internally miserable. So in a last ditch effort to save my self, I am going to put those feelings and emotion's here. You can chose to read them, or not. But they have to be said, I have to put out into words, into the world so that the burden in my heart can be lifted, and I can heal.
I am just shy of 27 years old and for my short life, I have been through turmoil's people only see in life times movies. The same struggles I am told to forget, forgive and let go of. How can you let some thing so detrimental to your life go? To just wake up one morning and act as if it wasn't the defining factor of your life. You see, people like to hide behind the false impressions of their action's. I am suppose to consider my life a blessing, and yet this hurt and pain in my heart has yet to dissipate. I may be a stronger, more prominent person in society because of it, but still it's there, and it hurts.
It's so hard to say those words, "It hurts", to admit that these life changing event's are the core to the person I am today, to the sadness I find in my heart and the loneliness of those memories'. This isn't to place blame for these feelings on other's, in fact, I take complete responsibility for who I am and how I deal with things. Even doing so, even in finding the silver lining, and accepting what was, I still have that on my shoulder's. No one can take my joy, and they surely don't want my sadness.
In twenty-six years of life, I was placed up for adoption, adopted, my parents divorced, my mother hated me, I was considered fat, and the kicker, I was a single teenage mother. Yes. You read that right, and in chronically order. So here it goes, raw, and in your face.
My adoption is the defining factor of who I am. I wish that I didn't know I was adopted, in fact, I wish that it had been kept from me. However it wasn't, It was talked about constantly, and I was reminded constantly through my life that I didn't belong there. The worst part of my adoption is as much as it was talked about, no one felt that I needed to know the truth. Quite frankly, no one needs to know that truth. It's water under the bridge, and if my birth mother ever reads this, I hope she knows that I forgive her. Following the years that I was adopted, I can't tell you how many time's that I was reminded that I was adopted. If not from books that were read to me, by snide, rude comments from people who were suppose to love me. When my father left, and my parent's divorced the snide rude comments became daily reminder's of who I really was. "She is just like her birth mother" "She'll be pregnant in high school, maybe sooner." "She is fat just like them." The saddest part is I didn't know who "them" was until much later. When I found out, I was cut off from contact because my mother couldn't handle the fact that I wanted to know. I wanted to be a part of something amazing, to feel love and wanted. I got that with my biological sister, and aunt far more than I did with her and she knew it.
As a teenager, I would lie my through life pretending I had the perfect family. I proclaimed who I wish I was. My life would have been a million times different if my father had had custody. I probably would have turned out different. Sadly, that wasn't in the cards for me. I worked odd jobs in high school, I stayed in my room and wrote about a life I wished I had lived. I tried to fit in, tried to stay active, but was still reminded that I was not a real part of the family, I was the adopted the child, the child who had thunder thighs, and ate too much. The girl who at any time I would become sick, was questioned if I was pregnant. What mother automatically assumes that their teenage child is pregnant just because they are sick? Mine, of course. I wasn't pregnant, in fact, I struggled through school with an undiagnosed learning disorder, and graduated with my class. I didn't graduate a teen mother, much to the dismay of my "family".
My only goal in life was to enlist in the military. A one way shot to get the hell away from every one. But that didn't work out from me. Once I graduated, I left the hell home I was raised in and went a little crazy. I found ways to numb the pain, and lived with friends. I didn't care about the choices I made, or if I woke up the next day. I just wanted to be numb from the constant ache I felt in my heart. The constant want to be loved. When I met Tim, I thought that this was my chance to find happiness. Although I was right in a sense, it wasn't what I thought it was going to be. I ended up pregnant with my daughter Maddie. With the realization that I was going to be a mother, I had no choice but to lean on the mother who hated me.
The love of my life, Madicyn Rose, was born on a Thursday, at 10:20pm, weight 7lbs, 13 oz and 21 1/2 inches. She was gorgeous. I was terrified to hold her, terrified to ruin her. Tim wasn't there, I didn't call him. A choice I would later regret. Six weeks with my little girl was about all I got before it was time to find a job and take care of my baby. I had to go to court for a paternity test so Tim would acknowledge her. Child support helped but for a while it was just me. Then I met Matt.
What a strange, amazing feeling it is to feel loved. I had never felt it before. That is not said to hurt feelings or metaphorically smack those who did love me. It's just to say that I had never let any one in my heart enough to love me. Matt came into my life at the near perfect time. I was lonely, stressed, and I missed my daughter who I never got to saw because I was working. When he gave me the chance to be a stay at home Mom, I jumped on it. A few short months later we were married, and a few months after that, we found out I was pregnant. Life was great. I had Maddie, I was pregnant with a little boy, and I had a new found stepson who was coming to live with us. My heart was overwhelmed with joy. Even now, as a mother, I am loved, and love being a mom. I love to hold my children in my arms, and tell them they are beautiful, something I rarely heard. But I am also scared to death that my demons will come out to haunt them the way they have done to me.
Today, I went to the gym and put my heart, sweat, and tears in my work out. I ran until it hurt, until my stomach and my mind agreed that they were done. I ran away the hurtful comments, the look of disgust, the voice in my head telling me that I will never be better than the woman who birthed me. Quite honestly, I hope I am as a honest, and upfront as she is. I hope that I can claim my mistakes as my own and make no excuses for my actions as she did. I also hope that I can look at my children and tell them that I love them and that be true. I may have been given the chance of a life time being adopted, a chance to be better. But no one will ever be better if they are always told that they will be something worse. Always beaten down because they are not smart enough, skinny enough, pretty enough for their parents. If my mother had taken 1/2 the interest in me that she did with my brother's girlfriends, I could have been a different person. My biggest fear is unknowingly doing the same to my own daughter.
Will the cycle end with me?
