Letting go…and letting it be


As some of you may have read in past posts of mine my grandfather ( the father of my natural mother ) passed away this past July. I had mixed emotions when processing his death as he was a core stone in the decision to place me for adoption. Most of the stories I have heard about my grandfather were unpleasant, he ruled with an iron fist, what he said went, and there wasn’t much laughter between him and the children. My mother came from a very large family, and at the time of my surrender her twin sister was also pregnant, and the 8 children and 2 parents were living in a 3 bedroom house, times couldn’t have been easy. As its been reflected to me my grandfather came to my mother on my 3rd day of life, at the hospital and told her she’d be coming home without me, and that it was time to go, and she did. Taking me home wasn’t an option and the shame he placed upon her thereafter when she got home, has infuriated me for years. When my grandfather passed this past July, I didn’t cry.
I met him once, I remained very quiet, I was unwed and pregnant with my first child when we met ( fitting I know.) He seemed joyous, he seemed good spirited, he told me stories, all of the stories he’d want me to know about him, how he swam around the pier in a contest and won in our town, how he decapitated men in Vietnam and earned the nickname the head hunter, he told me story after story and I just listened. Before I left as I went in for a hug he told me how wise men always listen, and the stupid ones talk forever and then he laughed hysterically and I left.
I woke up early on the day of his funeral and dressed my three daughters. I was nervous. We bought new black dresses for the occasion the day before, and I may have barely slept an hour that night. Not because I was weeping his loss, but because I was seeing all of my family the next day. All of my cousins, aunts, uncles, family I’ve never met, I will be there as my mothers daughter…I’m there known as her daughter. Me, her daughter, being recognized as her daughter. I didn’t have to stand in the back like the fly on the window, in fact I was reserved a seat in the front FOR THE FAMILY of my grandfather. A whole row for my daughters and myself.
We got there and again my step father was waiting outside for us, my mother inside making sure all of the ribbons were fluffed, the flowers were perfect and every last detail was how she wanted. My mother devoted her life to him in his final years and wanted and ensured that every detail to the direction of the Ukulele was perfected. We went in, and there was my family… they hugged and embraced me, they kissed my children and told us how much they missed us. Let me just repeated that part for the sake of my adopted soul wanting to hear it again….they hugged, embraced and kissed my children and me, and told us how much they missed us. Music to my adopted heart and of course my tears gushed from my eyeballs.
We went into the room, upfront was this table that held pictures and items from his life deemed most important by my mother. A picture of him in the military, he was a US Maine whom received 2 purple hearts which lay over his picture. A ukulele in front with leis, a younger picture of him, and one of him near his age just before he’d passed. My aunts, uncles and his friends spoke to him and us about his life and impact on them, I learned so much about my grandfather that day, my favorite part was a short film my mother put together with the help of a local amateur film student ( who ended up being an adoptee from Korea.)  Not only were there pictures of my children and myself, but I saw my grandfathers life. He was so strong, he was so courageous, he actually got sent home from Vietnam in a Body bag, he was presumed dead, and only discovered to be alive after two days in the bag on a ship headed home with a death note. This man, was a hero. Suddenly this transformation in my thoughts and feelings towards him shifted and I couldn’t stop crying and grieving this lifetime we missed. He’s like the top of this pyramid of children, and family that all came from him, and here all I’d had for him was resentment and lack of compassion due to thinking he was the sole reason I was left behind and all I saw of him before me on this day at his funeral was how much he did for the lives of his children and how everything he did was to better their lives.
I think I cried all of my resentment away that afternoon. By the time we arrived to the after party where his sisters and family were singing old traditional Hawaiian songs with spoons and ukulele, dancing together and celebrating life I was home. My kids running around with their cousins laughing and playing card games. Eating, drinking, dancing in every corner we looked at, it was one of the most beautiful days of my life. I have never felt complete on the level I do now and have since that day. I don’t resent him anymore. I don’t know how or exactly when it happened but it’s just gone, gone. It happened. I was let go. It hurt me, he was a pivotal factor in letting me go, but he was amazing. I forgive him.

You left me


( Disclaimer: there are many mothers who have surrendered their children to adoption that read this blog, or have in the past who knows if anyone reads it now. However this isn’t about your surrender, or situation it’s about mine so don’t read on or take it personal when I’m reflecting on my anger today in regards to being surrendered to adoption. )

Aside from all of the work I have done, and in the last few years I have done a ton, aside from everything I know….everything in these pages that leads to why I am anti adoption, I get it all, I know it all…I feel it all, I understand and process it all in a somewhat healthy way I’d say…aside from it all….there is that tiny part of me, that still….34 years later looks at my natural mother and feels….you left me. If your love for me was everything you say it was…. If I was enough for you, you would have kept me.

I know there are reasons, I know there are excuses, I know there were circumstances that didn’t allow her too. I know many people didn’t want to lose their children to adoption, I know some of you fought very hard for it…. but at the end of it all… this lil fragile ball of a feeling inside of me…. it doesn’t go away.

If I was enough for you, you would have kept me. By any means necessary.

Because that’s what I would do for my children.

I look at parents who don’t parent, and I see weakness. I see giving up, and I am very turned away by it. The father of my children has chosen a life of drugs and prison instead of being a healthy fit role model father. All I see is weakness. Weakness in addiction, weakness in parenthood, all around weakness.

My mother has been visiting the area for a week now, she just called me today finally for the first time. My response: if your mother was in your town for a week and didn’t call you until 8 days later how would you feel? weakness.

I am not by any means a perfect parent, and yet I would never do these things to my children. I would never give up my rights to them ( yes I know some of you never had a choice and I’m not bashing you for that, this is my situation ) I’m tired of hearing that God influenced our separation and if God willing we’ll be brought together again with all the time we need to be a part of each others lives. I’m sick of waiting for higher powers to act upon my life when its gotten me nowhere in the past, I do things with my own two feet and hands and those who don’t…. are weak.

Anyone who can leave their child ( other than by force ) and let her go FUCK YOU.

That’s how I feel today. Take it or leave it. I don’t care. FUCK YOU for leaving your kids and letting us grow up and pick up our own pieces. fuck you for not raising us. fuck you for turning me into a weak people pleaser for a huge part of my life because I was terrified any person I grew close to would leave me. FUCK YOU FOR THAT.

So I replied to her… that I was hurt. I’m sick of being on the back-burner ALWAYS since I was 3 days old. That my children and I deserve time, and priority and if she doesn’t give it to us….I’m done. I want out. I found my mother, I know my mother but i’m grown up now and if she wants time in my life, she’s going to make it and prioritize it because I will be damned if my children grow up feeling insignificant too.

Been a while since I posted, but I haven’t had anything adoption related to really put into words on my blog. I’m starting to do a lot of inner healing atm, yoga and life coaching and holistic therapy…..its bound to ripple the water here soon.

I hope everyone had an amazing summer, thank you for reading and commenting. I’m really not sorry if this pisses anyone off… this is how I feel and this is my blog and I’m not going to tip toe for anyone….I’ve given that up this year.

Separation and abandonment is a bitch!


I watched a video today of this girl in China who believed her new adoptive parents were coming to take her home. She had TB and it ends up that she can’t go home with them. The video is the future adoptive mother taping the goodbye. All screams of “put the camera down” aside… I want to talk about this moment in the little girls life and what it feels like to go through that.

I think its the core of my adoptee-ness. I have been there so many times. At her age she is probably so scared to hold onto someone, to love them, to open up to them and in the video it seems like she has established some amount of trust in the man, her future adoptive father.

Then it happens, 3/4 of the way into the video she “gets” it. They’re leaving and she’s not going with them. The screams, the pleads for them to not leave without her. The cries, pulling for them to stay, pushing those trying to keep her away….oh how I have been there.

The rage will follow, hatred, detachment and finally…the life saving numbness that will stay with her forever. By the time she’s my age she’ll be able to turn it on and off if she’s aware of it like I am. Use it as a body guard, shield, warrior of self. Detach, numb, forget, protect and move on. Survival mechanisms are beautiful things.

My adoptive mother hated it about me. I would never open up, my wall is there, and will remain forever. I don’t let people in past a certain point for the same reason this little chinese girl screamed in this video. Cause once you do, you become a slave to their presence, it then becomes a game to always make sure they’re there for you, not going to leave you, still love you, that they’re not mad at you, and never ever going to abandon you.

Those without separation issues just don’t get it. How could you, you have never lost a part of your being like this. Once you lose it, it doesn’t come back. Its not curable by love, by the return of someone to care for you, by a stuffed animal, food, material things, it can’t be fixed. All you have is yourself and those who have walked in your shoes.

Damn.