Monday, February 25, 2008

I'm Not Telling - Part Two

It pains me to keep writing. It pains me to face this all. But Jesus, it's what I prayed for isn't it?
The Big Reveal.
With a side dish of betrayal.

This is crazy because it all just plays right into the very abandonment issues that have now been put on display. Like some crazy fucking someone from your past dragged into the courtroom as a character witness assassin while you're on trial for your life. Here! See? She's CRAAAAZZZZY.

I freak when I get my mom's e-mail saying basically that she doesn't trust me, care about me or whatever. She's siding with my dh any way you cut it. She's made a choice. Marriage 1. Ellen 0.
I don't think I have talked to my mom for two whole hours since this thing even began.
Fickle mommy.

Mommies should not be fickle.

I write her a very calm e-mail asking for her love and loyalty and for her please not to speak to the dh.

She does not respond to this e-mail. Instead, she calls my brother??? who calls me to talk about it. It was a long, loving but difficult conversation. It's hard to hear people make assumptions about you. It's even harder when they act on them. It's hard not to be trusted by those closest to you. Not to be FIRST. God, that's a thing for me.
Yeah. Now I know why.

We get ourselves through the conversation but I've been yelling on and off, outside, in the rain (staying out of earshot of the kids) for 20 minutes so I say my goodbyes. As an afterthought, my bro says, "You know, take comfort knowing that your dh did most of the talking." "Yeah?" (Go figure, I think.) "Yeah," my bro says. "He even told Mom all this stuff about you having issues about your adoption."
Time stops. Rain freezes in place. The birds are quiet. It's cold. Color drains from my sight.
My brother's voice continues in my ear.
"I told Mom that isn't true."
I hear myself say, "It is true. I have to get off the phone now."
The world is literally tilting. I walk up and inside the house.
Place a call to my therapist's cell phone.

She and I are in the middle of negotiating a way for me to get out of the house without conversing with the dh (he has a visit with the kids that night) when I turn and he's standing right there. Listening of course.

God, I hate him.

I hate to hate. But I do. I do.

My mother's e-mail takes shape. Like words coming out of a fog. "When you were a child..." "You're depressed..." "You're the one who needs therapy..."

I leave. Get in the car.
He climbed the scaffolding of my growth, of my work, to get leverage with my parents. He crossed a sacred trust. There are things I have told my dh that I have not told any one else. That is sacred whether you are married or not.
He stole. He stole any moment I may have chosen to tell my parents in. He stole my privacy. He stole my growth. I can't think of any other more accurate way to describe it. That belonged to me. It was MINE. Not his.
You see, my adoption has two stories. One good. One not-so-good. One the story of a woman who has a great (?) family, who has been provided for and loved. The other story is of a six month old child abandoned repeatedly by her birth mother.
It's great that my family really doesn't "see" me as adopted. It's assumed I'm part of the family like anyone else. It is simply NOT AN ISSUE. That has its advantages. The disadvantage is it can lead to some insensitivity. But that's not their problem. Not until I chose to clear it up.
On the surface, one story does not negate the other. I had not yet felt the need to correct my family's version. It's not un-true. My version came after many years of therapy. It is the very definition of personal. It is a battle I have fought within myself. It has made me what I am today.
It is also not un-true. And it is certainly, CERTAINLY, not a SOMETHING to be batted about lightly. There is a hard nub there of un-worthiness. It is the dark, tainted, left-over stain of my self-loathing. A condensation of self-hate...for a BABY. But I have taught myself to look at it, and even at times, love it.

It is ironic that in the moment of this reveal...the reveal of my tissuey, pre-verbal issues of abandonment that I am actually, really, in the flesh abandoned.

There really is nothing to say more about that.

Let me just add, for the record: I would have done anything to save my marriage. It was of paramount importance to me. I loved it. I loved my husband. I trusted him. I will miss my marriage.

Remember, from the moment we're born, we climb aboard a sinking boat.

Bon voyage.


Anonymous said...

I weep for you, for your broken heart, your betrayal, your abandonment. Thank you for trusting and sharing and for not shutting down. I'm grabbing my roll of duct tape to help patch up some of those pesky leaks on your ship! You may feel alone, but you have many, many people with glue and tape and nails standing at the ready to keep you afloat on this rough, rough sea.

Tracy said...

I just can't believe the deluge pouring down on you right now.

I feel moved to say to you, remember, remember, their defensive actions speak more about their own personal weaknesses than they do about anything you might be erroneously perceiving as your inadequacies.

Keep on fighting for your truth. Keep slogging through the shit for your self-respect. Keep on throwing back your head and howling to the world you demand to be treated with gentleness for your wounded spirit, with respect for your power, and with love for the simple fact that you are amazing.

Sending you love,


spielbee said...

Lovely ladies! Your words just inspire me! I'm printing them out and putting them on my altar. Thank you from the bottom of my self-respecting, all-loving soul!