It’s been a BAD 4th of July.  My Mom started World War 3 and I managed to allow it.

Apparently this holiday is a “family holiday” and making plans with friends is not the thing to do.  So, trying to be the good little adoptee everyone wants to see, I cancelled my plans of going to a pool party with the majority of my church friends to stay home and do whatever I thought my parents wanted.  Probably cookout like we usually do.

But I guess that’s not good enough because my Mom ended up making comments like “You don’t like being in this family.  Why don’t you just find another one you like better?”

It’s all adoption related.  Somehow, comments like these ALWAYS pop up, ESPECIALLY around any kind of holiday.  My birthfamily isn’t involved.  Why does my Mom have to drag that into this?  I actually wasn’t even thinking about not being with them today.  I just had planned to go swimming with friends.  Now, I feel like a criminal.

That’s one thing I CAN’T STAND when my Mom and I fight.  The way she puts word in my mouth that I never even said.  No, I don’t hate this family and I don’t care to find another one.  But Mom, when you say things like this and they’re not even true, a little part of me wants to.  You make me want to get away.

So I used some horrible four letter curse words on her, and I NEVER curse, so when I do, you know it’s bad.  I told her I hated her.  I yelled and screamed like a horrible daughter.  And I dragged it out to other aspects of our family.

Like the fact that my brother watches tv from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep.  Like the way my sister and I hide out in our rooms because no one wants to spend time with each other.  Like how my Dad is living somewhere else and how much  it’s broken our family apart.  Like the way my Mom just doesn’t seem to want to talk to us a lot of the time.

I feel like we all live under this roof, but there’s no…connection.

I guess with my sister there is because she’s in that teenager stage of fighting with my Mom, so she comes to me to vent and I genuinely understand.  And my brother and I usually get along, but he does tend to do a lot of brother type things that are annoying like…following me around, making obnoxious comments about boys…things that can generally be dealt with. 

My Mom?  There’s nothing really.  I think we’ve damaged each other way too much over 19 years.  She wasn’t my birthmother and I knew it with every little piece of me.  I know she tried but it wasn’t what I needed.  I had my needs met in so many ways - even above and beyond - but when it came down to it at the end of the day - I needed that other Mommy to hold me.  And she wasn’t there.

It’s interesting because growing up, I was a really defiant kid.  Unhappy.  Couldn’t take no for an answer.  Always disobeying.  I’m not trying to find excuses for the wrong things I did, but I seriously, seriously wonder how much of my behavior was my way of verbalizing what I couldn’t at the time…”Where’s my Mother?  Why did she leave me?” 

I was angry about it.  Actually just the other night, I found an old little slip of paper with a note I had written to my teacher in second grade.  It read, “Dear Mrs. ******, I don’t want the boys to know where I was born.”  Something came up in conversation about where everyone was born, and I shared my story.  Since I was born in a different state, the ”boys” asked if I had moved here.  When I said no (because I had always lived in this area since being adopted as an infant), I then was thrown into explaining being adopted.  And I didn’t want to talk about it.  I was ashamed.  I was really hurt.

Oh, and let’s not forget that time in 5th grade when I was actually brave enough to share my adoptee status at lunch one day and one of my classmates whipped up this lovely comment:  “I bet your real Mom didn’t want you.  She threw you in the trash!!” 

Thanks for that one.  Thanks a lot.  Made me feel reallll nice.

It’s just really starting to hit me how hugely this monster called adoption has shaped me.  The ways are endless, and 99% of them aren’t good.  I was a child hurting inside, unaware of what was really going on, but knowing that I didn’t feel like I belonged.  Now I know why, but even my parents were too unaware to see my struggles.  That, or they didn’t want to admit the underlying issue.  I lean toward the first, in all honesty.

My Mom and I have sort of made up a little, I guess.  I ended up going out to eat with my Dad and my little sister.  Then we came home and cleaned a little bit, and then I took my sister out for icecream and we met up with three of my closest friends. 

But for the record: The awful comment I made to my Mom today, the “I ****** HATE YOU!”  (Yes, Christian Victoria said that.  I am sorry and completely regret it now, but in the moment was majorly angry and upset…We all do things wrong and I am no exception…)…The comment meant this…

Mom, I’m sorry that our relationship is SOOO strained and just plain bad.  I’m sorry that it’s gotten to the point where sometimes I just don’t even want to try to make it better.  I’m sorry that you don’t know me and I don’t know you and I’m sorry that sometimes I just don’t care.

I’m sorry you tried and I couldn’t accept all you had to give me.  I’m sorry you’re not my birthmother and I’m sorry that there’s nothing you can do to change that.  I’m sorry that I can’t just automatically blend with you and that it’s so impossible for me to have the natural flowing bond I have with her, with you. 

I’m sorry she gave me away because it hurts me, and in turn hurts you when you can’t be what I need.  I’m sorry you feel like such a failure.  I’m sorry but the truth is I am hers in a lot of ways that really matter.  I am sorry that I am yours, but can’t seem to forget or ignore at the core of me, that you are not her.  Your arms are not her arms.  Your laugh is not her laugh.  Your voice is not her voice.  Your heart is not her heart.

I love you and I know you love me.  But we both know it’s not the same.  I don’t hate you.  I just hate that we’re stuck in something we don’t know how to mend.  I hate that there’s no real way to make it better.  I hate that every day we drift further apart, making it even harder to bridge the gap.

I hate all of it, even things I can’t put into words or am too emotionally drained to even consider right now.  More than anything, I hate that when I tell you these things, it’s as though you can’t hear me.  Can we please try to make something out of this mess?  Love, Me.

…So is it ever going to be set right?  Any of these relationships in these three families?  I’m usually optimistic, but right now, I’m really not so sure…

Summer has been really fun so far, even though I’ve been working full time.  I’ve tried really hard to keep my social life alive duiring my free time at night and on the weekends.  But it’s not just about hanging out with friends.

I love church.  I guess we all expected that one, right?  But seriously.  I love everything about it.  I love the unimportant things like the rockin’ worship music, the awesome looking building, the modern “techy” equipment we have for the kids.  But what I enjoy even more are the people.

I don’t go to a megachurch, nor do I attend church in a tiny little barn or other small venue.  I’m a girl from the suburbs…pretty “well to do” suburbs…so my church has been blessed in a lot of ways to have all the things that it does. 

But it’s not about that.

My pastor knows his people.  It’s a community of abundant life and God’s love.  It just pours over everything we do.  It’s well known that my church is hardcore about evangelism.  Some people don’t like that, but Jesus said “Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.  And surely, I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”    Matthew 28:19-20 

But I also don’t think that evangelism is always about shoving a Bible in someone’s face.  People don’t like that.  It’s annoying.  And all that does is turn them away more.  I am not at all against this kind of evangelism.  I fully support the way my church conducts itself, as well as others who carry out the same thing.  Truth is truth.  God is God.  He doesn’t really care how you tell people.  He just tells you to do it.

However, there are times when we’re all fully aware that sometimes, the greatest way you can evangelize is simply through your actions.  Loving people and doing good.

So, we’ve brought out the Slime Stations again.  (Think Nickolodeon Slime!!)    For a few weekends every summer, we pull out the slime machine and venture to our local parks or housing developments to do something fun with the neighborhood kids. 

It’s not about God.  It’s just about good, clean fun.  Well, not so clean.  More like green, slimy, smelly fun.  But you get my drift.  It’s a place the kids can go for an afternoon to hang out with friends and have a good time.  (The parents, team leaders and other volunteers love it too!)

I did one a few weeks ago as Blue Team Leader.  (See my “war paint?”)   

This is my friend Desiree.  She was yellow team leader.  We arrived early to help set up and at this point, we were kinda just waiting for all the kids to come. 

I never do pigtails unless they are french braids, but I figured I would be hanging out with kids, so it was fitting.  And for the record, I NEVER pass up face paint.  I may be 19, but I’m still such a little kid at heart.

We give the kids a chance to do their own thing.  We bring hula hoops, water guns, playground balls…and tons of other fun stuff for the kids to play with.  And then we get them into their teams and run a bunch of silly games.  Popping balloons by sitting on them.  Shoving whipped cream on their head.    Teamwork games where they have to work together to get a ball from one end, around the cone and back again.  Stuff like that. 

It’s cool to see how easily amused kids are.  They don’t need much.  Just an adult/person a little older than them to give them attention, to lead them, to show interest in them.  And a few cheap toys.  They could play for hours.

I know that the slime stations were a blessing to the kids, but I want to say that the slime stations were also a blessing to me.  I learned a lot about being a leader.  I am usually shy, so leading a whole team of kids to be loud and crazy was slightly not my thing, but I volunteered knowing it would stretch my personality.  Kids feed off of confidence.    I didn’t totally know what I was doing, but I acted like I did and they were cool with that.  I got them pumped up for their team, and we actually did pretty well.

Not everyone got slimed, but the kids who did, enjoyed it.  It’s gross, but c’mon…you only live once, right?!

There is one more slime station next weekend in the town where I was born.  So basically, close to my birthfamily.  I think I am going to see if my birthdad and I can get together that day.  Maybe he could help me out in REPPIN the RED TEAM!  Maybe my little sister could come too.  We’ll see.

I just really love serving.  And I love serving just to serve, and then finding out there are blessing to reap after the fact.  Even the little ones you didn’t know were there.  Life is so beautiful and precious, ya know?  Even when it’s covered in slimy green goo.

I’ve been processing the comment I got from my little sister the other night.  Strangely, in most moments, I’ve been okay.  I’ve been reading a book by this guy Francis Chan and it’s called “Crazy Love.”  Chan is a pastor out in California and he spoke at the Passion Conference I went to last February.  The book talks about the way the American Church is falling apart, because we’ve lost the basics.  And I already knew that.  But it goes deeper.  It talks about Love.  Do we REALLY understand the capacity in which God loves us?  And do we REALLY love Him in  return or are we just living life as “Lukewarm” Christians?  Chan points out the fact that God would rather we be a nonbeliever than a Lukewarm Christian.  A hardcore, radical Christian…or nothing at all.  Cuz really, what’s the point of believing ANYTHING half - heartedly?

I know that the above description seems like it doesn’t have anything to do with the situation with my sister.  And I guess it doesn’t really.  But I’ve been digging into this book (I’m about halfway through), reading some scripture and writing letters to God.  Let me just say that quiet time with God is so beautiful.  I’ve been missing so much by not having it. 

This book has opened my eyes to how Lukewarm I live at times.  In other moments, I am the radical believer Chan (and mainly, GOD) calls me to be.  But it shouldn’t be an on again/off again, sometimes, when I feel like it, thing.  It should be always.

I really believe that this is the reason so many people are turned off to Christ…because his ambassadors…his people…fail to live a life on earth that is consistent with what they preach.  Hypocritical and judgmental. 

Doesn’t it all come down to love?

Love God.  Love People.

Not exactly rocket science, is it?

It feels like it sometimes…

But I think that it has finally sunken in that I can’t “try to be good” or “serve God” by doing “things.”  Showing up at church on Sunday or helping out in the community doesn’t really draw me closer to him unless my heart is in the right place, even if I am Saved by Grace.  Sometimes it does draw me closer.  Lately, it hasn’t been.  But I’m getting back on track, and that’s what Grace is all about.  He will always take me back and He will do the changing.  He will transform my heart and teach me to love him the way he deserves to be loved.  He will also teach me to love others the way he does…to be his hands and feet.

I consciously (within a few second period of time) made a choice not to bash my little sister’s mother.  Not to say “Well, she’s wrong” or “Well, I don’t know why Mommy lied to you, but she did.”  Both of those things are true, but for as much as I disrespect some of her Mom’s decisions on her behalf, that woman is still her Mother and is still someone my sister looks up to.

She is still someone that God loves.

She is still someone who is hurting, because only hurting people make such stupid comments.

And as she does her mother, my sister also looks up to me and my heart wants nothing more than for her to see Jesus living in me.  A “put down” kinda comment would be detrimental to my mission and not Christlike.  I’ve constantly been praying to see her Mom through God’s eyes…to know she is in pain, unhappy with life, unfulfilled…and to know I AM fulfilled through Christ. 

No weapon that is formed against you shall prosper.  And every tongue that shall rise against you in judgment, you shall condemn.  This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord.  And their righteousness is of me, said the Lord.                          ~Isaiah 54:17~

Amen to that!

My Birthdad’s right.  Someday the girls will know.  They will know as their sister.  And hopefully they will also know the God who died to save them because he loves them so much…more than I do…Is that possible?? ;-)

For now, I’m going to love their Mom, because she clearly doesn’t feel loved.  And I’m sorry for that.  I mean, I truly, truly am.  Deep inside of me.  The kinda thing that keeps me up at night.

Sadly, she’s not the only one living like that.  Which is why I WON’T be lukewarm.  He is worthy of all love and the highest praise.  The people he puts in our lives are worth the extra phonecall, the cancelling of our own plans, the whatever we have to do…

to Love them like Jesus.

Now, GO READ THAT BOOK!  Seriously.  Christian.  Not a Christian.  It’s lifechanging.  It will make you think differently about WHATEVER you believe.  Yeah, it’s considered “Christian” reading.  But it will make you want more from life.  And go after it. 

Email Dated January 10, 2005 from Bdad’s Exwife:

 ”I guess what I’m trying to say is no matter what me and *********’s circumstance is, I always want you to be part of the girls life.  I know you mentioned that they’re not really your sisters in your Christmas card, but they are.  They’re just not the little sisters that are getting in to all your stuff (and believe me they get into everything) One day when they’re old enough to understand, they’ll be the little sisters that look up to you for being the smart, sweet, beautiful girl that you are.  I don’t think any of you should miss out on the opportunity of being a part of each other lives.”

Birthdad’s ex wife…You lie.

Tonight, I called my birthdad just to talk.  He had my sister with him - the older one (age 6…almost), so I was like “Can I say hi to her?”  And he says to her “Your sister wants to talk to you!”  So we talk.  She tells me she is at Daddy’s helping him with a house project.  She asks where I am and what I’m doing.  I say I’m in my room staring at a messy floor.  She asks what’s on it and I say papers, clothes, books…dirty socks.  She laughs.  Just chit chat, but connection, ya know?

So I tell her I love her.  And she enthusiastically says, “I love you too!”

My heart is melting because we just had a nice sisterly moment from afar.  I’m thinking this is good.

And then she hits me with…I don’t even know what…but it terrorized me to the core.

Ready for this one???

“Mommy says you’re not my sister.”

At this point, my heart is breaking, my eyes are tearing up, and I have to keep it together for a five year old.  That little voice on the other line…did she REALLY just say that?!  Yeah. 

She did.

All I could manage to verbalize was a really unsure and shaky “Oh.  Ok…”

He gets back on the phone and I ask if he heard what she said.  He did.

So I ask “Does she really tell them that??”

“Yes.”  But he goes on to say he’s not that worried about it.  Someday they’ll know and it will be okay.

I guess he’s right, but…why?

Seriously, is that absolutely necessary?  To take your precious little girls and LIE TO THEM?  To take everything we’ve built in the last FOUR YEARS and BREAK IT?  Is it really doing ANY good to ANY OF US to DENY ME?  To DENY THIS RELATIONSHIP? 

I think not.

Welcome to the world of the adopted.  We take what we can get.  We appreciate every precious moment, every single jingle of the voice on the other line, every piece of mail scented with perfume…because it’s all we have.  We cling to everything we work so hard to find, to have.

And then someone rips it away.

Oy.  Where to start?

Well, now I feel like a horrible person because I got a phonecall pretty much right after I posted.  I got to her house a little after 1:30.  She was taking the trash out.  One of the older girls was out with her and both the babies.  So I immediately went into “must build relationship with sisters mode” and tried to talk to A.  I still can’t tell them apart, so I was like “Hey, are you  A or A?”  And she told me in a really quiet  voice and looking away a little.  I started to panic, thinking “Oh no, not again!”  They didn’t say A WORD to me last year.

We went to Friendly’s and got lunch and icecream.  The babies turned the table into a complete and utter mess but it was funny.  The girls colored pictures of people and wrote their numbers.  A kept begging to have her icecream before her Macaroni and Cheese.  Mommy didn’t give in.  Ha!

Then, we ventured to a nearby park which had two playground areas, pavillions and a massive lake in the middle of it all.  As any Mommy knows, you take one kid to the bathroom, come back and the other one has to go.  So, the first time around, I kept watch of A and C, and the next time just A.  (The other A who went to the bathroom the first time…lol.)  I need to find a new way to identify them on here.

During my time alone with A, I asked her if she wanted to go down the slide with me.  (There were two side by side.)  So we did that a few times.  I asked her if she knew which teacher she was going to have for 1st grade and she said no.  Little things, but they were a start.

When we got back to her house, my birthmom cleaned my nose for me.  I know it is the stupidest and silliest thing, but it was monumental to me…I felt so much…to enjoy for a split second that she was kinda sorta mothering me. 

She showed me the girls kindergarten work and their report cards.  They are doing so awesome in school and I am really proud!  I read through their journals.  A came over and stood next to me and explained some of what she had written about and drawn.  Before this had happened, one of the girls was walking around the house in circles carrying books.  Every time she came around, a book was gone from the pile, so I was like “Every time you take that around, do you get rid of a book?!”  And A laughed and said yes!

Then, my birthmom told me that earlier they had asked her if I was staying for dinner and they were bummed when she said no.  (I had to get home to a church event I was helping with.)  So basically, they like me.  And she said if they didn’t feel comfortable with me, they wouldn’t have been playing their pretend games in front of me…they would sit in front of the tv, not say anything and ignore me.  (Like last year…lol).

Her hubby came back from golfing while I was still there, which was cool because I absolutely adore him.  He gave me a hug and we talked about really random stuff like ghosts.  Lol.  I forget how that came up.

I’ve been invited to spend the weekend in about a month.  We’ll probably all go out to dinner, make popcorn and rent a movie…chill.  I can’t wait.

I’ve made my way “in” with the girls.  I didn’t bring up the looming subject, but my birthmom did.  Unfortunately, she said something about “not hitting them too hard” and having them be like “Whaaa?”  But I have major peace that she just might say something soon…maybe soon is still years, but sooner that I felt she would before this visit. 

As long as they play with me and talk to me, I’m good.  Because I know we’re building positive relationships, even if they don’t know why.  We’ll get there and someday it will all make sense to everyone.

There were a million moments I could use to go into my misery again.  Like how their journals were plastered with “Mommy did this with us…”  And seeing their report card envelope with her signature on the “parent signature” line.  Or the neighbor who walked by when we were outside and said “And how are you and your four lovely daughters?”  AHHH - FIVE.  FIVE.  FIVE.  FIVE!!!  Do you see me?!!?  NO, YOU DON’T. 

Or this…  

Yep, that’ll sure do it.  That’ll sure make me sob and break and miss and wish and feel empty.  For her and I, THAT’S GONNNNNE.  And I WANTTTT IT. 

I’m sure I’ll be back here soon talking about all the little ways my heart broke during our visit.  Because it did.  It always does.  I’ve learned to just accept that.     

But I’m at peace tonight and I’m going to ride with that for as long as I can make myself see the good in this.

There IS good in this.  There’s good in all of it for everyone.  For me.  For her family.  My future children.  You in your circumstances.  Your child.  Your birthmom.  Sometimes, it’s just covered in layers and layers of rage and of sorrow and of grief. 

But it’s there.

Tonight, I’m focusing on this:

Whatever this is.  Because it happened.  Because it was real.  Because it was something when it could have been nothing.  My sisters will know someday.  They’ll know everything.  About what their Mom went through.  What I went through.  What this means for all of us.

For now, I CAN”T WAIT TO SLEEPOVER!  It’s super comforting that she opened herself up that much.  To me coming into her home overnight, being so close to the kids and stuff.  I think she’s starting to feel more comfortable.  I am too.

(There is so much more to say, but I am processing it all and am honestly, tired of typing.  Bits and pieces will probably come out later.  And ignore my yuckyness in the picture.  At least the kids look cute!)                           

Yes, I did it.  I got my nose pierced. 

I’ve been wanting to do it for awhile now.  In real life, I tend to present myself as the “Nice Christian Girl.”  You know…the one who bakes cookies for the eldery she visits at the nursing home.  The one no one could ever hate.  The sweet and innocent, quiet and shy girl who loves Jesus more than anything else.

I am kinda that girl…I mean, I am, but I don’t always bake cookies.  When I do, they’re premade.  Sorry if I disappointed you.  Hah! 

So anytime I step out of the mold, people are shocked.  And I don’t step out often simply because piercings and tattoos and other craziness don’t really interest me.  But a simple nose stud?  I think it’s beautiful.

I’m all about simple.

Eventually, I won’t want this anymore.  I’ll be too old to look “hip” with it.  But for now, I don’t regret what I did.  I LOVE it!

(PS - The parents don’t.  LOL.)

So it’s 9AM and I STILL don’t know if we’re actually hanging out today.

She called me yesterday, but I was busy with a church event.  She started to say she forgot to call Friday night like she had said she would, but then she interrupted herself and said that people didn’t leave her house until 10:30 at night Friday.  (The girls had a “School’s Out” party with friends).

Maybe both are true, but if you forgot, just SAY YOU FORGOT.  I would appreciate that more than you changing your story.  It makes me think you are lying to me, when all I want to do is trust you.

She was thinking 1:30ish.  Let her know if that’s good.

So, I called and left a message at 5ish.  And did the same at 9, asking her to confirm everything.  She hasn’t called me yet…

I guess she knows I left the day open for her, so she can let me know last minute, no problem.  But I don’t operate like that.  I don’t like to anyway.  I need to know and plan as soon as possible.  And as an adoptee, you just can’t wait till the very last minute.  It makes me think you are leaving me all over again.  And that’s the worst feeling…

ever.

Please, please, PLEASE don’t cancel on me!!!! 

For the record, before I begin my massive pity party, my life IS good.  It might not seem like it since this blog is primarily about adoption and that is one of the few things in life I REALLY have a hard time with.  But I guess I figured that writing would help me to heal and that I would be able to give and get support.  And I have - so THANK YOU to EVERY SINGLE PERSON who has ever commented me or gotten in touch with me somehow.  Your encouragement means so much and your own stories help me grow.

But tonight?  I’m sick of this.  Just utterly sick of it.

I like what Laurel had to say one time about how she realized that this stuff is never going away.  There will never be a point when we’re past it or it’s done and we’ve moved on.  We’ll never move on.  Not in the general sense of the word anyway.

I found my sisters softball team photo online tonight.  Call me a snoop, but I figured I could track it down and I did.  I saw this photo at my birthmom’s house last visit, but I wanted to save it on my computer.  The file size is too small to really zoom in, but they look adorable.  And I can FINALLY tell them apart!

And my birthdad called tonight.  He is looking into a new house and kinda contemplating where he wants to live.  In one particular area, the girls would be close to their cousins, and therefore going to school with them.  And so he made an innocent comment about “the four ****** girls going to school together.”  Cute.

But it makes me want to puke.

What about me?  Not even that, but what about all the millions of things I am missing out on?  So many things are dependent on time and age…Clearly, I will never get to experience going to school with the girls.  But I just feel plagued by this huge simple sense of missing out.

Yeah, we’re having a visit on Sunday.  And I’m looking forward to it like whoa.  But you know what else that means?  Leaving.  Leaving those little girls there without a word.  Without hugs or “I love you’s.”  I hate that this secret is keeping me from giving them all that I want to.  I want to soak up every opportunity to be with them, encourage them and watch them grow.  For now, I have to do it in silence.

It’s just hard for me to comprehend that we lead such separate lives.  All seven of us.  Not just my birthmom’s girls.  My birthdad’s too.  I don’t know what their favorite food is, who their little girlfriends are or if they prefer Barbie over Hannah Montana.  And they don’t care to know my heart or my passion for the Lord or my love for them.  Well, not that they don’t care, but they don’t know that there’s a reason they should.

Maybe this is something that comes with time.  Surely in the last few years, my relationship with my birthdad’s daughters has grown by leaps and bounds.  But I’m the kind of girl who has seen far too much loss and far too much taken away from me to risk years, days or moments. 

I pray to God that Sunday goes well and I am able to bond with A and A.  To start something.  I don’t and can’t expect us to be inseperable immediately.  But I just want to begin building for the future.  I want to lay the groundwork.  And I’m also praying for a miracle that maybe my birthmom will find it in her heart to tell them.  Because this conversation with her is not one I really want to have.

While I love her absolutely to death, I know she is going to do as she pleases.  What right do I have to push her to do something so scary, risky and difficult?  I’m an adoptee.  The one who walks on eggshells to make EVERYONE ELSE happy, to make sure EVERYONE ELSE’s needs are met.

What about my own?  When are they both going to open their eyes and see my pain?  When are they going to start thinking about what they choose to put in simple conversation and how it might affect me?  When are they going to realize how much I’m missing and that I just might not want to have it shoved in my face during every talk we share?

This isn’t easy.  And I’m trying to work through my hurts.  But I’m not okay.

I would be willing to bet that neither of them have any idea how truly “not okay” I am.  And because of that, I can’t be angry.  And I’m not.  I’ve considered showing them this blog before, but that’s too scary.  These words were never meant to be read by them, and while it’s not necessarily “secret,” I’m not ready to flaunt my scars so bluntly just yet.  Not to them, anyway.

I don’t want sympathy.  I don’t want them to feel sorry.  But sensitivity, awareness, and acknowledgment would be a big help right now.  The only thing I continue to learn through this is that people will always fail me.  Only God stays true.

I’m going to pray and sleep on this.  Here’s to peace for tomorrow.

I’m seeing my birthmom and ALL FOUR sisters on Sunday!  Let’s pray this visit doesn’t get cancelled!

As our visit gets closer, I have found myself thinking more and more about the fact that A and A don’t know.  About anything.  And I was trying to not be this way…but it’s REALLY starting to bother me.

The more I think, the more I consider discussing it with her, but I know that would be too much for her right now.  Except, I don’t think it’s too much for me to ask…that my sisters know who I am.

Is it?

I guess she has her own reasons, or doesn’t know how to bring it up to a six year old.  I think that they’re too young right now to contemplate anything beyond, “This cool big kid is my SISTER??  That’s AWESOME!!”  (Hey, I try to be cool and little kids seem to think I am!)  Anyway, I just don’t think they have the capacity to judge her or have a negative perception yet.

But they will.  And I honestly can see her holding off on “the talk” until they are at least ten.  And by then, it might be too late.  A secret sibling is a lot to throw on a preteen.  If she would tell them now, they would have time to process me in bits and pieces.  …Right?

It makes me really uncomfortable that she feels uncomfortable telling them.  As much as I know the denial or shame are her own issues, I carry them, and ultimately, the secrecy she is living in is hurting me.  Or holding me back.  Neither myself or her girls deserve that.  Maybe it’s inconsiderate of her feelings, but she’s not being fair to us at all.

I don’t want to say anything prior to our visit because I think it will cause tension.  For now, I’ve spent my quiet time at work trying to come up with conversation starters and things to talk about with the girls.  Things that seem normal for one of “Mommy’s Friends” to discuss with them.  But I want more.  I really think this secrecy just isn’t right.

If the girls and I really click this visit, I might go out on a limb and say something to my birthmom about my thoughts and what my feelings are on this issue.  If they talk to me.  Want to play with me.  Seem to open themselves up.  I dream they’ll ask me when I’m coming back or if I can babysit.  I want them to want me around.  Partially, because I feel their interest might push her to open her mouth and say something.

I just forsee this going in a really bad direction.  That all of the sudden “Mommy’s Friend” who has been hanging around for 5 or 6 years is suddenly ”Sister.”  How does a person process that? 

I’m stuck in the middle of one big lie really.  Her nose is growing with each passing get together. 

Any thoughts, ideas on what I should do or say, how to handle this??  Am I being realistic?  Any input would be greatly appreciated, because I have no roadmap or any clue what I’m doing!!

Someone needs to write a book called “Reunion for Dummies.”  It would be a bestseller because I think we’re all crazy confused…   

Thank God TEST IS DONE.  I took the ACT’s.  English, Math, Reading and Science.  I’m frankly not worried about the results in terms of getting into my choice school.  I have a solid college GPA thus far and I MADE THE DEAN’S LIST THIS SEMESTER!!  For the math portion, I knew I needed a calculator, so I went out and bought one at CVS this morning.  (My sister has been using mine at school this year and left it in her locker.)  Well, the thing BROKE…SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TESTING SESSION.

“Ummm, yeahhh…NOT GOOD.” 

(Sidenote: The above is a phrase my birthmom uses in funny, but “not good” situations.  It makes me laugh every time she says it.  And exactly as I have typed with the dragged out ummmm and yeahhhh.  Haha.  I’ve taken to using it in situations like this.  She knows her “phrase” amuses me, so now she makes it a point to say it when the situation deems appropriate.  And we crack up together.)

Anyway, I was probably halfway through the math questions when it died/broke/stopped working.  So I had to make educated guesses on the rest I couldn’t solve on my own.  I would have been able to but I was only being given an hour for 50 questions.  I hope this turns out okay…

The high school that I went to to take the test was where my birthmom’s hubby went to school.  I wanted to sneak in the library and find his yearbook picture, along with his sister’s, but the library was locked.  My proctor was a spanish teacher who has taught there for 38 years, but he didn’t recognize their names, so he joked they must not have taken spanish!  Hah.

This high school was not the high school I would have attended had I been raised by my birthmom.  But it was in the area.  So it was weird in general.  And I was pretty jealous of all the kids around me, who live around there.  I couldn’t forget I would be going home at night…to a house an hour away.  I wanted to stay.

I hated being SO CLOSE (2 miles) from my birthmom’s house and not getting to see her.  She had an event to take the older girls to today, so we couldn’t visit.  We’re trying to schedule a bbq/pool visit next weekend.

I hung out with my birthdad, gave him a father’s day card and we had a great day together.  We watched the history channel…dorks, lol…I know.  We went to lunch at a local diner, where we unintentionally ran into my Aunt and Uncle and their 3 kids, plus two neices.  (This is the same family who lost their baby boy last December.  I still saw hurt in their eyes…)  Birthdad and I played Checkers two times and he killed me.  He had like 5 kings and I had two.  Lol.  But I put up a good fight till the end.  Effort matters, right?  Hahh.  And then, honestly?  We took a nap.  He was exhausted from a recent trip he just took and I was tired after my test.  But it was cool - sometimes, it’s nice to just chill.  We were going to take a motorcycle ride on his Harley, but there was some paperwork he needed to get for it.  Maybe next time, he said. 

Backtrack to November: I took a trip with my Birthdad, his then girlfriend and my sisters to Florida for a week.  It was awesome.  My little sister wanted to make a scrapbook of the vacation to share with her Kindergarten teacher and so our Dad help her put it together.  It included photos and little notes she wrote, as a 5 year old can, about places we went and things that we did.  It was on the kitchen table at his house today and it was fun to look through it again.  There were a few pictures of me with both girls.  It’s nice to know I can somehow be a part of their story.

So, that’s pretty much it.  I had a fabulous time…I’m just too tired right now to really express that.  Maybe I’ll elaborate tomorrow.