Just stay with me a for a bit. I’m trying to work something out in my brain.
In the process of cleaning house, your brain starts to dust itself off too. I think it’s impossible to clean your own house, touch the things you love, and not think about where you’ve been.
I have a small picture near my desk of the girls we were in the process of adopting before that entire thing went to shit. Every time I see it I feel that little ache of loss in my chest but I can’t seem to take it down. I don’t want to forget them – I want to reconcile how I feel so that I can be happy they’re with their adoptive family even though it’s not us.
In the end, it all worked out the way God must have planned because they ended up with parents who were more experienced in their needs and the same week we lost them, we gained A & E. Later, we gained LJ and finally we became a forever family. It still left me wounded and afraid to attach – that if I love someone as deeply as I love them, that I’ll lose them too.
Today I hung up a picture of LJ, A, & E near the picture of the girls and it made me smile. It settles me a bit to see 5 shining, happy faces.
I also came across my sample book and my personality profile from the company I used to work for. I’ve been trying to weed out things that keep me trapped in that past – the 8 years I gave to that company – but I need this stuff. I read the first page of my profile and it basically says that I’m loyal, independent, good-natured, and able to deal well with teams UNLESS someone insults or embarrasses me.
This isn’t to say that it’s particularly easy to insult or embarrass me, it’s just that if you manage to there is going to be some hell being wrought. My personality is – and always has been – to withdraw, set up a barrier of coldness, then start a campaign of terror. I’ve been this way since I was born and I doubt I’ll ever be able to rid myself of that compulsion. I deal pretty well with it and if it’s not a continual pissing on my shoes, then I’m able to stop myself before I get revenge. There are some people, though, that have continually undercut and underestimated me that I would still *ahem* be unkind to if I crossed their path again. People I haven’t seen in over 2 years.
This doesn’t cause me too much concern. I know myself and I know that they’re unlikely to ever respect me the way I expect the people around me to respect me.
What does concern me is that I’m feeling this way to the girls’ biological mother who I’ve never met and never even seen. She hurt and hurt and hurt AGAIN people I love a whole lot. Then she somehow got a lawyer to fuck up their chance at being adopted to only go to meet the kids for the first time in years while HIGH. She made it so that Shaun and I were afraid to give the girls the Christmas presents we had bought for them because we 100% expected her to take them and pawn them. Our entire family was devastated and still, I don’t think my parents have fully accepted our forever kids because they still mourn.
At least with our three kids – I know where their bio parents are. They’re in jail where they should be. When it comes down to it they’re just redneck crackheads too dumb to stay out of trouble. I got to sit in a courtroom in front of them and say how bad they fucked up and how they shouldn’t be able to fuck up my kids any longer. It may not be a competition, but I fucking won.
This lady just disappeared for years and walked back in to their life to fuck it up one more time only to disappear again. How do I deal with that?
I don’t know if she got hers or if she even feels any regret. There’s no way I can look at her and her situation and say “she paid the price and now it’s over.” It would be like Paris Hilton stealing your last $20. It means nothing to her but the value to you is incredible. I know it’s not my place to see justice done and I know that she can’t fuck it up any longer, but still, it’s not comforting to me.
I’m afraid the only thing that will heal it is time. Maybe I’ll just get to the point of indifference, even though that’s totally not satisfaction.