Hope is nature’s veil for hiding truth’s nakedness” – Alfred Bernhard Noble
I want to hide.
I want to delete this blog, change my name, color my hair blue and hide.
I wont of course. It goes against all I believe in for mothers like me. Society wanted us to hide. To shun us, to put us away and pretend what we did, what they did, what happened to us did not occur.
I dont hide.
But tonight I wanted to. I wanted to so bad it made me cry.
I “met” a guy online. We were chatting. There seemed to be chemistry. I was giggly and excited and hopeful and waiting anxiously for every email. He needed to signoff to go do work and tend to his real life and we exchanged emails and instant messaging handles. I teased him and told him he would get extra points if he could figure out the meaning behind my email handle (bluestokking).
Well, duh, I was so taken by him it did not occur to me that he would google the words and be lead to my adoption related material. He sent me a link to my shelfari and there it is in black and white my status as a mother who surrendered her child to adoption.
I wanted to vomit. I still want to. My stomach is upset and there is a lump in my throat.
I am not ashamed. I am not. But that kind of information is something I like to control the delivery of. I realize its dumb. There is no way I can do what I do and be this transparent and still control the delivery.
But you know, for once, for tonight, for a moment, I wanted there to be a space and time where adoption was not permeating every cell of my being. I wanted to be me without adoption trauma, without the judgement of others, without the pain, without my big ol’ scarlett letter.
And the old anxieties creep up.
What does he think? What will he say? Am I not good enough to consider dating? Will he read all about me and think “rut-roh, nutter on aisle five”? Will I hear screeching noises from the emotional skid marks his judgement tires will make as he speeds in the other direction?
My rational self believes wholelheartedly that if it is meant to be anything, if he is any kind of man I would be intereted in, he will take it in, discuss with me, accept it, question, treat it with respect. I know that. And frankly, based on our coversations, he seemed very compassionate. But THIS?
There is part of me that still fears that judgement. Still hears that you are not good enough, we are ashamed of you soundtrack in my head.
If its not in my head, its surely in my stomach.
I told him to google me completely (first and last name) and if after reading all about my sordid past, he still wants to chat I would welcome it.
I hope he does.