To Long to Belong
I read a lot of adoption related blogs today and left comments. It feels good to be back. But still, I feel unsettled tonight, out of sorts, even aprehensive and I'm not sure why. Maybe because a thought crossed my mind that all of my life I've borrowed other people's experiences and lives to pretend they are my own, to give myself an identity, sort of. How can I begin to explain how it feels to ride my bike in residential neighborhoods at night and peer longingly into open windows, the homes with their lovely honey-colored rooms, family members accustomed to each other, like when you sit in a well-worn armchair? How can I explain how empty I feel when I realize that some story I want to write always belongs to someone else? There's a little girl somewhere in the picture. Find her. You know that game, Find Waldo?I read blogs by other adoptees and by first moms and marvel at how strong some have become, how they've transcended their deep aches by doing good for others. I see I'm long overdue to open up and let the chips fall where they may, just open my eyes and see where others are hurting and offer a smile or a flower or a favor without strings. I see how self-protective I've been all of my life. Like walking around in a fetal position, seeing only my own navel. Being empty and fiercely protecting that emptiness. Because it's all I have of myself. Sure, I look "normal" and act "normal." You'd think I'd get over "it" by now because I've been an adult for such a long time. But yeah, there's still that lost little girl inside, like that little ghost you see haunting a graveyard and crying, so mournful it's scary and people run screaming away. I'm not trying to be a drama queen here. I'm trying to write out my truest feelings. I didn't call my blog Empty Cereal Box for nothing.
I see how mature other bloggers are, how they got to the point to be able to see far beyond themselves and I long to be like them (see, there I go again). One thing, though, reading the wonderful, powerful writing of other adoptees and first moms is showing me gently how to come out of my little cocoon soI can begin to heal. And for me, that is a priceless gift given freely. All I have to do is visit and read. It's like being an alcoholic. One day at a time. I'm NOT in control, even though needing so desperately to be in control has always been one of my crazy makers. I guess I just don't feel like I have anything to work with. Tonight I feel like I'm always going to be the one without a chair when they stop the music. I don't know. I guess I'm just feeling a little down tonight, and I'm not sure why.
posted by Marie @ 9:08 PM
11 Comments:
kim kim--it's true, we need to document those steps on our journey. i like the image of putting our chairs together to make a bench, because it seems that's what we're doing. it's just that sometimes i fall into this constant empty vortex and i can't see hands like yours reaching down to pull me up again for a little while.
Have you heard of Joe? He's an adoptee that talks and writes about inner child stuff. Let me know if you'd like to know more about what he has to say.
I know with me, I'm only now starting to see where some of this stuff has effected my actions/reactions in my life. I feel for you.
"I feel like I'm always going to be the one without a chair when they stop the music."
ECB,
I love this analogy. So perrrfect! You know...we can always choose another game...(giggle) by making our own rhyme and reason and watching the game organically wrap itself lovingly around our life with a sure embrace.
I come to your site often...reading where you are and what your thoughts are. This internet blogging experience is really different than the everyday getting to know people. It isn't just the open topic of adoption that we allow, but it's the seeing someone from the inside out. There is a vulnerability that cascades over the meeting and knowing that allows for a soul to come through more vibrantly.
"I long to be like them..."
I do too...but isn't that always the vantage point to some degree. I celebrate your coming out of the cacoon and it's perfect timing. Some days it seems far too difficult to do so...and others it is not. Know that your words are wise as are your poignant reflections and self intraspection. This models quite wonderfully and validates so many adoptees who are traversing the same landslide of family life.
I actually imgained a cocooning in my life. Things got too big emotionally and I imagined myself spinning my own cacoon and nestling right in. I think it was a way for me to give myself permission to take things slowly and not to feel as if I needed to solve it all right NOW. These inner integrative process have a time clock of their own. I think I stayed in the cacoon for a few years. Then it was clear I didn't need this image any more and like you describe, I began to come out or peek out. Your rhythm and timing are perfect. They are your own inner tide and it is in perfect motion.
gwendolyn
But with your writing, you are beginning to fill back up. You may not see but I do. Soon you won't be an empty cereal box. Instead of being a generic cereal, You are the top selling brand. It takes strength to write what you feel about adoption. So many of us are beginning to be banned at adoption.com. We all think its funny. We are becoming a force to be reckoned with. Think about that one God bless ya honey it does get better. One foot in front of the other.
"You'd think I'd get over "it" by now because I've been an adult for such a long time."
Marie, there are some things you just don't get over - ever. You learn to live with them, find ways to make them affect you less - find some peace and resolution. But, "get over", nah, I do not believe in the concept.
Nice post!
Slowly it's dawning on me. I'm being visited by angels, for lack of a better word. I savor every word that's left here by those who care to stop by and comment.I will blog about this further.
Gwendolyn-You seem so warm and nurturing. Your family and friends are lucky to have you in their lives. You know...we can always choose another game...(giggle) by making our own rhyme and reason and watching the game organically wrap itself lovingly around our life with a sure embrace. You wrote exactly what I needed to read this morning. Yes, the seeing of people from inside out rather than being deflected by the impenetrable armor we've all accumulated over our lives. Dunno. I feel as if we're building new co-operative neuron networks here, allows for a soul to come through more vibrantly. Your observations are brilliant and appreciated. And your validations are very healing: permission to take things slowly and not to feel as if I needed to solve it all right NOW. These inner integrative process have a time clock of their own. Thank you for stopping by and being such a giving person. These are the true gifts we can give each other as human beings. I'm crying as I write this because this goes far deeper than we can know.
Michelle-Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment! No, I don't know Joe, but I'm open to learning whatever can heal everyone like myself who hides behind fear, grief, loneliness, and a wounded soul because of systemic inattention and apathy of a society. I'd like to learn more about his and your insights.
Adopteeamy-Thanks for your encouragement. I guess we DO have to "choose another game" as gwendolyn says. I never went to adoption.com because of some of the things I read about it. I don't need more discouragement right now, but I root for all of you who stand up as a force to contend with against those who would demean us further. Thanks to you and the other insurgents in the adoption blogosphere, maybe one day a blinding change will come thanks to our efforts and all the walls will come tumbling down!
Cookie--You're a gem. I always say it's like 9/11, being gay, or having a certain skin tone or body type--it's not something you can "get over." Thanks for stopping by and reading and commenting.
Im glad your here, Im sorry you are going through some emotional stuff. I thank you for sharing it.
MSP
(((marie)))
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