On Authenticity

The word for the day seems to be “authentic” as I was reminded of it not once but twice today.

Say This But Not That

In her earlier comment on my Atelaphobia post, Maryanne suggests I have damaged my relationship/possible reunion chances with my daughter by speaking out so publicly about my experience.  I have been mindful about how much information I share here despite the fact that others find it too much or in some cases, not enough.  The inference here is that if I want to meet my daughter I should keep my feelings to myself or say nicer things about adoption.

Refer to Jenna’s recent post again for thoughts on this.  What Maryanne alludes to has come up many times in the more than ten years I have been blogging or speaking at conferences.  You can search this blog and find many posts that speak to voice, using my voice, sharing my thoughts and the possible impact on my reunion.

I am genuinely okay with all I have shared on my blog through the years. I stand by it, my feelings, my words, my experience.  Nothing has been embellished, made up, or intentionally vengeful (as some blogs are). My name is my real name. I am not hiding behind a made up persona.  My words may be raw and painful for some, but it was never my intent to “damage” my daughter or my chances at reunion.  Is it possible I did? Of course.  It is also possible that the reasons my daughter does not want to meet have nothing at all do with this blog.  Only she knows.

I am teetering on the edge of repeating myself but want to ask the question again.

How do we (mothers or adoptees) make change if we do not share our experiences? Equally important, what message do we inadvertently send to our children if we keep things to ourselves? If I do not share my very real feelings with you, do I not tell you, even indirectly, that your feelings are not welcome to be shared with me?

Please Remove Me

It has happened numerous times over the years. Each time it does, I am annoyed but not necessarily for the reasons you might expect.  This is how it plays out.

“Hi Suz.  Friend here. Been a while since we spoke.  Hope you are doing well.  Writing to ask you if you will remove all my comments for the last ten years from your blog. See, I mistakenly used my real name and now my clients/friends/parents/etc. are googling me. They do not like my position on adoption and my connection to you. They feel my position is too strong and it makes them uncomfortable. Could you spend some time removing all references to me from your blog? I do not want them to read my thoughts and I do not want to be connected to you.”

In every single case this has occurred the request has come from an adoptee, almost all of them now working professionally in the adoption industry.

I understand (well, sort of) their conflict.  I have had those professional situations as well (see this post and this post).   Where I struggle, maybe I should say what makes me sad, is the fact that in all cases these individuals genuinely believe what they have posted on my blog over the years, their thoughts have not changed, but they must pretty up their online presence for the comfort of others.

If we continue to make adoption look pretty and comfortable for others, can we ever make progress?

What would happen if the world truly spoke honestly about the pros and very real cons of adoption?  Why is our kneejerk reaction is always “Ooh, sorry, did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Let me sweep my own feelings under this rug here so you can be more comfortable in your position”.

What if we said something like “I understand my feelings make you uncomfortable. How about we talk about them and how they differ from yours and why.”

Am I too idealistic?  Delusional?  Something else?

Photo credit: Joanna Fisher

 

Atelophobia

Once again Jenna prompts me. Her post, I Want My Daughter to Like Me, brought much to my mind and frankly, choked me up a bit reading it.

Do you like me?

Right after I found my daughter, about eleven years ago, daughter did email me a few times. She even once chatted with me once on AIM.  During one of our conversations, I asked her if she liked me.  The memory makes me shiver and cringe with embarrassment now.  What a stupid question for a mother to ask the daughter she gave away.  Do you like me?  It sounds now (and likely did then) so teenagerish, so full of angst and neediness.  She was kind enough to respond.  She said “Well, yeah, sure, I guess. I mean it’s not like you are a meth head working at HotTopic. You seem fine.”

Her phrasing made me laugh but later wonder if that is what she was expecting me to be? A meth head?

Do you like me?  Really, Suz?  She should have answered “well, you apparently did not like me, did you?”

Second memory triggered by Jenna’s post?

Will I ever be good enough?

Since the day I surrendered my daughter I have been on the furiously fast hamster habitrail going…well, somewhere.  Finish school. Build a good career. Buy a nice house. Be a good mom to my parented sons. Make good money.  Be healthy. Lose weight. Go to the gym. Decorate the house. Do the yard work.  Buy plants for the yard. Be a better cook.  Do this. Do that.  Do not stop. Go. Go. Go.  You must improve yourself.

I am not joking about the intensity. The desire for self improvement is overwhelming at times.  I can always be better, right? I should keep working on myself? I cannot idle.

Whoa.

Wait.

What is wrong with me right now? I do have a nice home, a good job, great sons who are doing well, a good husband.  I am getting my health under control.

So what is with this intense desire to make myself, well, something other than what I already am?

Type A Overachiever or something else?

Back to Jenna (and where I start to cry).

What if she does some day agree to meet me?  I have to be good enough to meet, right?  I was not good enough to parent her so why would I ever be good enough to meet?  Maybe if I am prettier, smarter, thinner, more educated, more therapized, I will finally get the golden ticket to a meeting, right?

Did I make good use of our time apart? Did I make myself into something or am I that meth head working at Hot Topic?

I realize this all sounds sad, or pathetic, or something.  I also realize it is illogical.  Yet knowing those things does not make me feel them less.

I am the young girl furiously preparing herself for prom hoping someday she will be asked to the dance.

While I regularly say getting dressed is the best part of going out, I sort of do not want to prep anymore.

Or do I?

 

 

Month of Letters

I have decided to participate in a Month of Letters.

This means for the month of February I will “mail at least one item through the post every day it runs”. I will “write a postcard, a letter, send a picture, or a cutting from a newspaper, or a fabric swatch”. I will also write back to everyone who writes to me.

I consider snail mail to be teeny tiny packets of joy and love to get envelopes and packages.

If you are interested in participating, send me an email at bluestokking at gmail dot com. Do not put your personal address in a comment.  Privately message or send to my email.

Read more about A Month of Letters at the site.

I am off to Barnes & Noble to buy some fun stationery and cards.