I read an interesting post this morning by a blogger I follow. It is about his relationship with, but particularly his feelings towards, his birth mother and father. For anyone who doesn’t know, those would be the parents that birthed the child. The adoptive parents adopted the child. In my case, the other parents in the child’s life are probably the lucky ones Guffawhaha! Just kidding, I hope. So to give you the thread, this post is mostly a reflection on his thoughts, and a shallow dive on mine about my birth dad.
Anyway, in HarsH’s post, the language is sharp, the feelings intense, and while I believe for this blogger the writing is cathartic, the reading for me caused grief. The feeling of rejection, in any of its many forms, still brings the same bitter/sad/hateful piece of me to light. Even when it happens to others. I know we all have it, but when I’m feeling it, I feel I have more of it than others — until I hear someone else’s story which can shock me back into reality, or it can send me spiraling, or I can also maintain, let’s not be over-dramatic just for show.
A very interesting line, “I don’t know why I can’t stop hating you. I don’t know why I only hate you. I know there is a father out there. fuck him too.” brings to mind the way I felt for a number of years. It was very targeted and specific to one individual. The lack of logic and sound reason behind the decision. The amount of emotional attachment, only to be thrust into emotional detachment again. And then this dude, who can’t by any definition have acted like the sort of guy I would want to be my dad. But then again, since I’ve lived long enough now, I can say that I have acted like that guy, I don’t let logic and reason guide my every action, and I can certainly see how adoption can be the best option. Heck, I want to adopt kids if I have them someday, and I hope I help someone out who was making tough decisions for tougher reasons.
Recently, my adoptive father asked me if or why I haven’t looked up my birth father. The truth is the same as for HarsH. Cuz fuck’im. I’m not mad at him, and if it sounds like I am, then you need to get a sense of what I’m feeling. I’ve got two adoptive parents, a step-mom, two other families, maybe four other families that would treat me like their own if I showed up down and out, I’ve had up to 6 grandparents (dropping the steps), I’ve got well over 50 cousins, I also have over 200 active friends……… get it yet? I don’t have time for someone who doesn’t want to be here. Literally, not one day per relative in my year. That’s fucked! I feel grief weekly because I don’t get to see people I actively love and miss. That’s weird to me, and weirder still, I know feeling that grief is to be blessed with love.
So to my situation, if birth dad does want to meet me, then that’s another thing, and I’m not gonna get in the way of that, heck, I’ll even support/facilitate it. But, if after 32 years things are the way I understood them to be that faithful night (meaning he was just there to help a gal out who wanted a helping hand commemorating the death of the woman she loved), then he and I are both better off just chillin like some villains, and catching up again if serendipity throws a screw our way.
Take care, peace and love, namaste.