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Reunion Socialization
(author not identified)
The journey through reunion is not unlike traveling to a foreign country where one doesn't speak the language or know the customs. Immersion into a new culture presents adjustments to climate, food, clothes, mannerisms and social rules. The experience carries imagined "should haves" that are markedly different from the often awkward reality.
Reunions hold the possibility of joy, hope and healing. These expectations and their resulting grief, however, can lead to misunderstanding, hurt and confusion. Each person must learn to adapt to the other's as well as their own, perplexing, vacillating emotional changes. Each person must rise to the challenge of bridging the lost years as well as possible. We are severed from, but profoundly bonded to--each other. We come together as "Familiar Strangers." Familiar in many ways because of the inherent genetic traits that are expressed in physical and emotional mannerisms and thoughts and actions. Unfamiliar in as many ways because each person has survived the sudden, abrupt truncation of a primary relationship. Each has developed different coping styles within the context of their own unique life path.
What happens? Why and How Can we Overcome the Challenges?
Traveling between the familiar and the unfamiliar requires resilience because the traveler will experience the roller coaster effects of elation/deflation as pent up emotions and years of buried grief and anger begin to spew forth. It is important to recognize that reunion is an intensely emotional, highly complex and unique phenomenon. Emotions are energy in motion, they are the tools of growth and serve to warn, protect and teach us about ourselves and the presenting situation/relationship.
What happens when these worlds converge?
One must learn to read between the lines. Be an observer of subtle cues, allow the other person to move at her/his own pace, put aside needs and expectations and "musts" for the reality of what it is. We need to develop an understanding and appreciation of one another's cultural and lifestyle differences.
Reunion emotions are high and conflicting feelings such as: joy. sorrow, anxiety, impatience, fear, anger and bewilderment. The person entering into a reunion is shifting gears from being a searcher with some measure of control, to a totally unknown situation, craving acceptance but anticipating rejection. The seat of the power now shifts to the contacted party. The searcher now must transition from the fantasies that filled the years of void and longing to stark reality.
Search is usually initiated by a strong internal drive to resolve the original issue of separation and loss (adoption). One thirsts to resolve unanswered questions. The emotional pressure to come full circle sustains what is often an arduous journey. The searcher's momentum increases as information is gathered. The emotional pressure to connect continues to escalate, while other life routine issues and obligations may be neglected because the searcher's focused journey is toward the truth, and he or she is expending a lot of emotional energy defending the need to search.
The searcher is not unlike a truck traveling 90 m.p.h.. The person who is found and who has not yet moved toward undertaking the search is taken by surprise and does not have this momentum. When these two different energies meet an emotional collision occurs. The searcher can barely slow down, while the person found can barely gasp for air, for the wind has been knocked out of them. They need time to adjust and may have concerns about the meaning behind the contact There may be stress regarding the implications of meeting and forming this new relationship.
Each party is bewildered by the other's actions. Each has different needs.One may be well versed in adoption issues with adoption, having support group exposure, while the other may not have even begun to contemplate adoption and reunion issues. Both parties have set their roles, rules and emotional commitments to others in their lives.
So many feelings flood forward, there may be bouts of crying or free-floating anger as these feelings flood forth. There is chaos and confusion. How can one be filled with such joy, anger, sadness. frustration, indifference, disappointment, fear and elation simultaneously?
Our identities are challenged. We will never be the same as we were before contact. Issues of loyalty to respective primary relationships may impede the ability to enfold the other party. One's previous history of loss, coping skills, ability to identify and verbalize feelings, and capacity to mourn affect the person's ability to empathize and relate to one another. Perception about the adoption experience--shame/openness, conditions during the pregnancy, success of integrating the adoption experience, issues of inadequacy -- all impact the manner in which the reunion may unfold. It is a process that often leaves those involved bewildered and exhausted.
Unanswered Questions...Possible Challenges
Who knows the story? Does the reality match one's previously held beliefs? Who sets the pace? What are the expectations? What are the family rules, social rules-- i.e., holidays, gifts, telephone calls, letters, e-mails? How does one sign off correspondence? Will previous relationships dissolve? How does each person identify the other? How does one handle social instructions? What type of relationship is desired: casual, nurturing. answers only, close? How much emotional support does each person have? Are we open and respectful and nonjudgmental of each other's needs? Will either birth parent be hurt if there is communication with the other birthparent? Will the adopted person want to merge their dual family connections or keep them separate? Will the birthparent desire acceptance by the adoptive parents? Will the adoptive parents want to embrace the birthparent or request that the adopted person not discuss the reunion? Will the birthparent's family welcome the adopted person or will rivalries surface? Can we let go of the fantasy of the reunion for the reality of a real relationship with a real person, flaws and all?
Does one try to bridge the two different worlds? Does one become emotionally exhausted trying to travel through these worlds separately? What happens if well-intended or misguided family, significant others, or friends attempt to steer the relationship? What about "genetic attraction"? Has the birthmother/father shared the existence of their child with family? Has the adopted person shared the search and contact with her/his adoptive parents? Does anyone have to "lead a double life" by keeping this reunion separate from other primary relationship! How does one deal with still being "a secret"? How do life changing events (i.e., marriage, divorce, childbirth, death) impact one's ability to incorporate this new relationship? How do physical or emotional health problems influence reunion?
Possible Phases of Post Reunion Relationships
"Falling In Love"
This is similar to a dating experience, when everything is running smoothly, energy is high, similarities are highlighted. Each party puts out a lot of effort, there can be a lot of sharing pictures, stories, exchanging gifts. Each party is open to accommodating the other's needs.
"Pull Back Phase"
The momentum of the relationship changes as one or both individuals may step back; one or both individuals may become confused, angry, frustrated, nervous, depressed. Problems may develop because of mixed messages or misread signals.
"Establishing Boundaries"
The relationship may be reassessed, There may be need for ground rules. Both parties fear rejection by the other. One or both parties may be involved in a push-pull relationship driven by the need to connect, but governed by the fear of becoming too close (only to lose the person again).
"The Relationship Dwindles"
One or both parties shut off communication. This may bring excruciating pain to one or both individuals. This may occur because one--or neither --party is flexible or because pressure from the other primary relationships have created too much anxiety.
"Acceptance of the Relationship"
Both parties are willing to commit to the relationship, issues still need to be resolved, reality overrides fantasy and unmet expectations, each party is willing to grow.
Reunion survival recommendations
*The other person cannot heal you! Reunion is a healing process that takes time, patience and a lot of effort.
*The reactions you see, hear, and experience can say a great deal about the other person's level of development, emotional makeup and coping skills. These reactions ARE NOT about you. Try not to take them personally.
*Develop and seek emotional support outside of any primary relationship. It is very difficult to receive objective advice from persons who have specific role expectations of you.
*Each person has her/his own pace.... Respect the differences.
*There is no right or wrong way you must recognize and follow the cues.
*Seek out other adoptees or birthparents impressions when you get stuck.
*All relationships evolve over time.... Your Reunion Mantra should be "We have the rest of our lives to resolve this."
*Remember "E=3Dmc2": for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. If you push too hard the other party will resist with equal strength.
*Flexibility is the key.
*Honor your psyche's need to grieve, seek appropriate therapy with someone who is familiar with post adoption/reunion issues, or educate your therapist if you are comfortable with her/him.
*Don't panic ... take deep breaths.
*Don't act impulsively or out of fear or anger.... Most of us unintentionally hurt each other when coming from this place. Remember your reunion mantra.
*Get reality checks from a trusted confidant.
*Don't stifle your feelings! That's what you've done for years and that's when we snap and say or do things we usually later regret.
*Perhaps try your feelings out with several people who are experienced with these issues first
*Let go; let the flow take its natural course...
*It's natural to grieve losses; honor your passage.
*Please remember... Reunion can be both difficult and ecstatic at the same time. Brace yourself for a flood of emotions. Try to enjoy the journey of self discovery and healing. We have the rest of our lives to resolve this.Ӕ
Jackie, thank you for posting this. I read it in the beginning of my reunion with my Bdad. Now, three years later, it has a whole new meaning. It describes exactly my reunion. Every word from beginning to the very end, I see in my reunion with Bdad on both our parts.
Jackiejdajda
From our anonymous writer..
What a lesson that was for me.. The subtle cues.. how many of us really see those cues and heck abide by them.."
My Bdad and I both failed miserably in respect to this. Too much energy...too much emotion...to many others interfering...not wanting to hurt each other..BDad terrified of confrontation and always avoiding it at all cost...me always facing it head on and ready for battle...so much alike and yet so different...and in the end so terrified of losing each other, but just as afraid of hanging on.
"And when abiding by them grieve the loss of the dream of what could have been..
Grieving the loss of that fantasy.. A fantasy that I thought up myself that never was and never will be.. one can be so tripped up by this."
So very tru. The fantacy controls everything. Letting go of the fantacy is like a drug addict letting go of the drug.
"How do we do this?"
We grieve the loss of what can never be?
"How have you done this?
Can you share what happened?
Cas we learn..
Jackie
I was told by
my therapist told me to allow myself to grieve. I don't want to grieve. It hurts too much, so I would not allow myself to grieve for the fantacy. Allowing myself to grieve would be giving up on the fantacy. Giving up would be too painful...too, too much pain. I have two men who have called me their daughter, but I will never have the Daddy all little girls dream of. It is impossible to go back. It is impossible for that little girl who craved the love of her Daddy to get that back now. I fought like hell to hang on to that little girl's dream, but reality will not cooperate. With every incident the reality of it hits me and I have no choice but to admit to myself that things will never be as I dreamed. With the acceptance of that, I have no choice but to grieve. I would rather be cut with a knife, shot with a gun, or beaten, than suffer the emotional pain of giving up on the fantacy. I had no idea the fantacy was there until I saw it for what it was. If I want to move on, I must grieve, and so I am grieving, a little at a time, as I can bear it. I have also taken some time specifically to force the grief...time to myself, alone, and I let myself just hurt...I tell myself it is O K to hurt, and I just let it hurt until it subsides...then I pick myself up as best I can and go until the next time...I let it go...I just let it go one piece at a time.
I asked my therapist how long it would take for it to stop hurting. Her response, "It will stop hurting when it stops hurting." Not exactly the answer I wanted. lol
Jackie you are a Godsend. Typing this gave me another opportunity to get a little more grief out. Thank you.
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Jackiejdajda...I wanted to post and say what an awesome woman you are! I'm new here but I've lurked for months :coffee: and I'm always reading the forums you post in just to see what YOU have to say. Its like your posts take on a voice; its like you were privy to what went on in my heart and mind during those awful pregnancy months and the post-relinquishment years and you relate it perfectly. You know, Jackie...you know and thats so comforting for me and I'm sure many other B-moms from the dark ages of "closed." Its refreshing to feel I'm no longer the only one.
I thought about just pm'ing you but I don't think a private Thanks would do you justice. I wish I could shout it from the roof-top so from my heart to your eyes, I thank you.
:thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: :thanks: Tracy
Janeytwo
But selves... IMO it refers to the spirtual. The self; the soul; who I am beneath my body. Interesting.......
A Poem.. Gerard Manly Hopkins..
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies drw flme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves - goes itself; myself it speak and spells,
Crying Whᡡt I do is me: for that came.
I found this poem.. and have loved it ever since..
And I really think this applies to us.. who have had very difficult disruptions in our lives..
Anyway....I wanted to share that I have been uncomfortable in this new skin of mine. This new me dawning.
Yesterday the desparate urge to locate my children overran me for a while. I was sitting at the edge of Cass Lake, my grandson beside me digging in the sand with a little plastic shovel. And my youngest daughter running off the wooden dock at full speed, plugging her nose, leaping into the water. It was a glorious Michigan summer day like so many before with boaters out on the water and the smell of BBQ'd burgers wafting in from neighboring houses. I think perhaps it was because it was such a normal moment, you know? That's when this need overtook me.
And we can not pretend it away.. Acknowledging it..
Yes. The redifining of womanhood. This has been all of our struggle but for bmoms.... maybe more so. I don't really know except to say I only know that the need to hide the truth and fit in in a "respectable fashion" overrode my ability to forgive myself and to grieve my daughter and son. To become a "better" human being which of course I couldn't do because I left some of me behind.
Janis went back to her home town when she was famous.. when she was somebody..
The rebel that no one understood..
My aunt told my family that I would come to no good..
I did not fit.. I will not fit.. I am.. I am a person of the first order..
Jackie
Djvj
My God, you beautiful, beautiful women have taken my breath away...
Thank you for writing these posts, so that I am not alone in my confusion and tears
Thank you for writing these words that my heart is screaming out but my voice can not articulate
Thank you for surviving the "emotionally impossible" so that I am not alone when I am waking up and realizing I have survived too
If there is one message that needs to be put out there.. its that we can come out of this..
I started in the mid eighties.. I fought my way out of that low grade depression.. The depression that never left me..
The not spoken about depression..
That very first therapist.. that student (because I did not think I should have a real therapist).. told me that I had not grieved the loss of my son..
I did not know how to grieve..
I went to the library and got a book on grief.. and in that book there was a story about a man that had lost his child in a car accident..
What he did when he was getting better was to drive through that intersection and yell.. yelled at the top of his lungs..
I still have that image in my mind..
I could not yell my feelings when I gave my son up.. I had to keep quiet.. "Shhhhh Jackie the walls have ears."
So toxic..
Thank you of reminding me of my own 17 year old ghost, huddled alone on the couch with my arms still warm and stretched out for the baby that has just been passed away forever...
Once I went to an Alanon meeting.. I shared about giving my son up.. This to a whole room full of people..
When I got home that nite.. I sat on the couch.. in the dark and cried.. I told everyone and I cried..
at least now i know i'm not insane, i'm not alone
that is the most comfort anyone can give me right now
Not alone..
Some of us were so isolated..
If we dont talk about it.. we do not have any new thoughts about it and we stay in the low grade depression.. we stay in that terrible terrible place..
I thank you for the wonderful compliment.. Does my heart good..
Jackie
shadow riderer
my therapist told me to allow myself to grieve. I don't want to grieve. It hurts too much, so I would not allow myself to grieve for the fantacy. Allowing myself to grieve would be giving up on the fantacy.
Woooo.. Thats important..
For me it would have been letting my son go.. finally letting him go..
And heck the fantasy as well..
Giving up would be too painful...too, too much pain. I have two men who have called me their daughter, but I will never have the Daddy all little girls dream of. It is impossible to go back. It is impossible for that little girl who craved the love of her Daddy to get that back now. I fought like hell to hang on to that little girl's dream, but reality will not cooperate.
Accepting what we can not change.. major..
With every incident the reality of it hits me and I have no choice but to admit to myself that things will never be as I dreamed. With the acceptance of that, I have no choice but to grieve. I would rather be cut with a knife, shot with a gun, or beaten, than suffer the emotional pain of giving up on the fantacy. I had no idea the fantacy was there until I saw it for what it was. If I want to move on, I must grieve, and so I am grieving, a little at a time, as I can bear it. I have also taken some time specifically to force the grief...time to myself, alone, and I let myself just hurt...I tell myself it is O K to hurt, and I just let it hurt until it subsides...then I pick myself up as best I can and go until the next time...I let it go...I just let it go one piece at a time.
A journal of solitude..
We learn to love ourselves..
I remember reading or hearing that if you donҒt love yourself you can not love another.. it always confused me..
But I think I understand now.. the act of loving ourselves is what you are describing here..
Time to myself.. alone.. and let myself hurt..
In AA some will say.. A grateful recovering alcoholic..
Grateful because he or she is learning about himself or herself..
The unlived life..
I asked my therapist how long it would take for it to stop hurting. Her response, "It will stop hurting when it stops hurting." Not exactly the answer I wanted. lol
I can remember waking up one day and feeling better.. I can remember the letting go.. the time I realized that I really did not have to stay in the pain.. the want..
Thanks for saying that this thread has helped.. I hope we keep it going..
Jackie
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Tazer
I'm new here but I've lurked for months :coffee: and I'm always reading the forums you post in just to see what YOU have to say. Its like your posts take on a voice; its like you were privy to what went on in my heart and mind during those awful pregnancy months and the post-relinquishment years and you relate it perfectly.
I came on this morning and your post is the first one I read..
I then read it to my husband who was eating his cheerios..
And I am still smiling.. and feeling good..
We were so isolated.. some of us are still isolated..
We gave our babies up (were given up) and expected to just walk away.. pretend it never happened..
What hubris in that thinking.. (I love the word hubris)
You know, Jackie...you know and thats so comforting for me and I'm sure many other B-moms from the dark ages of "closed." Its refreshing to feel I'm no longer the only one.
The only way out is through..
Prisoner in a Dark Cave.. (I got lots of quotes stored in my computer..)
This from John Bradshaw..
page 117
A Parable:
The Prisoner In The Dark Cave
There once was a man who was sentenced to die. He was blindfolded and put in a pitch dark cave. The cave was 100 yards by 100 yards. He was told that there was a way out of the cave, and if he could find it, he was a free man.
After a rock was secured at the entrance to the cave, the prisoner was allowed to take his blindfold off and roam freely in the darkness. He was to be fed only bread and water for the first 30 days and nothing thereafter. The bread and water were lowered from a small hole in the roof at the south end of the cave. The ceiling was about 18 feet high. The opening was about one foot in diameter. The prisoner could see a faint light up above, but no light came into the cave.
As the prisoner roamed and crawled around the cave, he bumped into rocks. Some were rather large. He thought if he could build a mound of rocks and dirt that was high enough, he could reach the opening and enlarge it enough to crawl through and escape. Since he was 59Ҕ, and his reach was another two feet, the mound had to be at least 10 feet high..
So the prisoner spent his waking hours picking up rocks and digging up dirt. At the end of two weeks, he had built a mound of about six feet. He thought that if he could duplicate that in the next two weeks, he could make it before the food ran out. But as he had already used most of the rocks in the cave, he had to dig harder and harder. He had to do the digging with his bare hands. After a month had passed, the mound was 9 feet high and he could almost reach the opening if he jumped. He was almost exhausted and extremely weak.
One day just as he thought he could touch the opening, he fell. He was simply too weak to get up, and in two days he died. His captors came to get his body. They rolled away the huge rock that covered the entrance. As the light flooded into the cave, it illuminated an opening in the wall of the cave about three feet in circumference.
The opening was the opening to a tunnel which led to the other side of the mountain. This was the passage to freedom the prisoner had been told about. It was in the south wall directly under the opening in the ceiling. All the prisoner would have had to do was crawl about 200 feet and he would have found freedom. He had so completely focused on the opening of light that it never occurred to him to look for freedom in the darkness. Liberation was there all the time right next to the mound he was building, but it was in the darkness..
Forgetting about giving the baby up (or being given up).. does not work.. will never work.. IMO
We need to go through the pain.. through the grief work.. through the heck finding what happened.. (take our time with this one)
I thought about just pm'ing you but I don't think a private Thanks would do you justice. I wish I could shout it from the roof-top so from my heart to your eyes, I thank you.
We pass it on.. we show that there is a way out of this..
I am blessed this morning..
Jackie
Hey guys...such good things written by everyone!
I am going to muse, muse, muse and then write later on all the thoughts swirling in my brain!
LOL!
Right now my little grandson is tugging on my arm! I.e., "grandma how dare you pay attention to anything but me....the supreme ruler!
LOL!
JHane
Hey all!
I'm finally getting back to this thread after much pondering....
Raven
I signed the waiver, gathered up my things, shook the supervisor's hand, smiled at the receptionist, walked out of the crummy waiting room, got into my car...and promptly threw up. My very first step to empowerment, to taking back that which had been taken away from me...my dignity.
I thought about this that you wrote quite a bit yesterday. I was thinking in terms of how mute I was the day I originally signed. I was a robot and I'm sure it was the same for you, I'm sure of that. And then to return to that place with a voice; a voice we dared not have at the time. What would I have said back then? I think I would've screamed "DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN! FIND A WAY TO HELP ME AND MY BABIES!" Of course I would've been seen as what I was; too young, far too young.
Now though? To envision the way you did this, gathered yourself and kept your power, stated your case and walked out with dignity? Wish I could've been with you. It is amazing to me to have once thought that I was alone in this journey; that there weren't others like me. :-( About ten years ago I went with my friend Danny (the one I posted about who is adopted) to the CSS office where he was adopted. It was the same place I'd gone to initally begin the process of surrendering my children. I waited outside in the parking lot while Danny went in and I remember saying too myself, "Glad I ain't the slut I was back when I used to come here."
:-( How sad. No more. No more of that!!
Shadow riderer
I would rather be cut with a knife, shot with a gun, or beaten, than suffer the emotional pain of giving up on the fantacy. I had no idea the fantacy was there until I saw it for what it was. If I want to move on, I must grieve,
The fantasies that sustained us yet held us back. Like gum stuck in a leaky dam, they were bound to give way eventually. Yet we're not really taught that are we? We're taught to duck and hide, to believe the unbelievable, to lie and get through whatever pain is in our path; to lie and get through by any and all means possible. So long as we project sanity to the outside world. But who among us was sane? And I don't mean sane as in knowing what planet we're on. I mean sane as in knowing who we are in relation in to ourselves. That question is hard enough to answer even for the sage ones. How do we answer it from a dank place of hidden fear and pain? Impossible.
Tazer
I'm new here but I've lurked for months
Huh. This sentence really struck me because I think in our way, we'ved all been "lurking" for years. That grief, that part of us that was aching beyond reason, lurking behind our eyes, in the back of minds, banging on the glass of our subconscious trying to get out. But for me? My eyes were shut so tight. What a terrible thing I did too myself my friend.
Jackie
Once I went to an Alanon meeting.. I shared about giving my son up.. This to a whole room full of people.. When I got home that nite.. I sat on the couch.. in the dark and cried.. I told everyone and I cried..
Jackie, oh so wise. The only way out is through. Sharing in Al-Anon? Man, you've got some brass!! I only did that once. I said something flippant along the lines of , "Oh and once I gave two children up." Then I went on about whatever the frig Step we were on. Looking back I can see the other people at the table glancing at each other like, "My God. Did she just say what I think she just said?" Not in a mean way but in a way like they couldn't believe how much pain I didn't seem to know I was in. Thank God my sponsor had enough sense not to coddle me about it. Back then, self-compassion was for the weak and feeble minded. Ironcially enough, my sponsor was an adoptee mom who helped her a-daughter search for her bmom. They found her in a cemetary. She'd died of a heroin overdose at the age of 20! :( :( So heartbreaking.
My sponsor tried like hell to get me to go to a triad meeting. She kept saying, "Well are you going to put your money where your mouth is and get some help or are you just saying what I want to hear so I'll shut up?" God love that woman! She knew me well. So she picked me up and we tried to find this dang meeting. But the address we'd gotten ended up being a nursing home!! When we went inside to inquire if anyone knew where the triad meeting ACTUALLY was, we were helped by the facilitator of the place. Do you know what his name was. Lyndon Johnson! That's no BS! Good grief!!!
Anyway, I took that as a sign from God and stashed myself away until 3 months ago.
Jackie, I have to beg forgiveness here my good good friend. God help me, back in the old Compuserve Al-Anon days...I didn't even trust you with all of this. Not even you whom I adored even then!
How pathetic!!! :cowboy:
djvj
my own 17 year old ghost, huddled alone on the couch with my arms still warm and stretched out for the baby that has just been passed away forever...
Ghosts........oh how long have I been one. How long has the echo of the past shattered the present and you know, I'd be ****ed (and I think I was) before I'd admit it too myself. Yet there I was day after day thinking my children dead and believe that in some way my actions had killed them. But I didn't kill them, I just froze them in time, held them back in my mind and froze myself as well. One cold Janey ghost with spotless glass tables. And when I looked into those tables there was a face reflected there and behind that face a young girl screaming in pain. And I would just flip her off in my brain, call her rediculous and unneeded and an inconvenience in my life.
Today those same tables are smudged with the fingerprints of a little baby boy, my grandson. A child leaving his handprint on a grandmother's heart. A grandmother's heart that is finally, finally melting.
The return from the long cold winter.
I have been both my tormentor and the tormented. And really, in honor of my surely beautiful and intelligent daughter and son, this must come to an end. They deserve better.
Thanks for listening,
Janey :battle:
I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little book, to raise the Ghost of an Idea, which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me.
Charles Dickens
Janeytwo
“The only way out is through.”
That line is so important to me..
From our anonymous person..
*Don't stifle your feelings! That's what you've done for years and that's when we snap and say or do things we usually later regret.
Going into our feelings.. talking about them.. writing about them.. feeling them.. heck just feeling them..
It has got to work.. and we don’t end up ‘losing it’ and snapping..
We know ourselves..
Sharing in Al-Anon? Man, you've got some brass!! I only did that once. I said something flippant along the lines of , "Oh and once I gave two children up." Then I went on about whatever the frig Step we were on. Looking back I can see the other people at the table glancing at each other like, "My God. Did she just say what I think she just said?" Not in a mean way but in a way like they couldn't believe how much pain I didn't seem to know I was in.
It was his birthday.. I finally acknowledged it..
I had forgotten about it for years.. did not know what day to be sad on..
That day I got on the street car and just aimlessly went around Toronto.. sat in a park..
And then ended up at my meeting.. and I shared..
I opened my guts.. and told all of it..
And also because I was bulimic I went to OA.. (overeaters anonymous) and ended up a speaker in front of a room full of people.. I had to speak for a period of time.. I think one hour..
I told my life story out loud watching the eyes..
Folks came and gave me a hug after my sharing..
Thank God my sponsor had enough sense not to coddle me about it. Back then, self-compassion was for the weak and feeble minded. Ironcially enough, my sponsor was an adoptee mom who helped her a-daughter search for her bmom. They found her in a cemetary. She'd died of a heroin overdose at the age of 20! :( :( So heartbreaking.
I am stopped by the non coddling.. I think I would have coddled you..
Why was it not a good thing?
Interesting..
Jackie, I have to beg forgiveness here my good good friend. God help me, back in the old Compuserve Al-Anon days...I didn't even trust you with all of this. Not even you whom I adored even then!
You were not ready.. and I believe with all my heart that we do not do things until we are ready..
I was doing my business with my mother in those years.. and until I started the Artist Way written by Julia Cameron I did not even envision looking for bson.. so I was not there yet..
On CompuServe I would venture into the adoption forums.. and I found a group of birthmoms and we had an email group..
Those women and I have met up on line through the years.. Each in different places.. and then you show up here..
I love that this happens..
Jackie
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Hey Jackie,
Going into our feelings.. talking about them.. writing about them.. feeling them.. heck just feeling them.. It has got to work.. and we dont end up ґlosing it and snapping.. We know ourselves..
I remember after some time in recovery learning to look at those "icky" parts of myself. It wasn't pretty as I had thought I was above my own defects of character. It was so scary to look in the mirror...really look in it...and see myself. Yet in doing that I also discovered talents and good traits I was even aware of. Clawing through the darkness in order to see.
That's why my favorite prayer has always been this one by Chief Dan George: Grandfather thank you for my eyes which helped me to see and for my blindness with which I saw further.
I never understood that prayer until I was forced to look in my own mirror.
I told my life story out loud watching the eyes..
Folks came and gave me a hug after my sharing..
Wish I could've been there. I would've loved to have heard it! :loveyou:
I am stopped by the non coddling.. I think I would have coddled you.. Why was it not a good thing?
I had a problem back then. This was about 5 years into program. I had an issue with compassion for myself or for others. I thought that compassion was the same as pity. I can remember newcomers talking at the tables. Some of them would come in and just go on and on... "he did this to me", "he did that to me". I had a reeaaall hard time with that. Deep down of course I wanted desparately to say those same things but that would've been weakness.
I had to stay away from Step 1 tables for a while because of this. I didn't trust myself to be able to extend compassion to women such as those above. Sigh....man I was a mess!!
Knowing that I'd run if she tried to coddle me, my sponsor took a business tack and got me to actually try to find that meeting with her. Never did find it. Guess I just wasn't ready.
But now I need the compassion and kindness you and so many wise folk in here extend almost as much as I need the air around me. I finally understand that weakness is NOT asking for help. Weakness is telling myself that I'm perfectly fine in my silence and don't need any other person. Yep. That's weakness all right. No more.
Those women and I have met up on line through the years.. Each in different places.. and then you show up here.. I love that this happens..
Synchronicity. God rapping on the computer screen. "Knock knock"..........
Hope you're getting a chance to enjoy your painting! :camo:
Janey:battle:
Janeytwo
But now I need the compassion and kindness you and so many wise folk in here extend almost as much as I need the air around me. I finally understand that weakness is NOT asking for help. Weakness is telling myself that I'm perfectly fine in my silence and don't need any other person. Yep. That's weakness all right. No more.
Weakness is not asking for help.. amen..
Jackie
I've just finished reading Shantaram again. A fantastic novel about India. The author wrote...."
It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to be in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured"
I read it, re-read and thought....Now I'm free, do I still feter and torture myself? I think we all do in those weak moments.
Ann
Dear Ann,
Now I'm free, do I still feter and torture myself? I think we all do in those weak moments.
]
This line of yours...poetry...sheer poetry. Thank you.
You know I read a line once from a famous philosopher who said that the only way to know people is to love them or torture them. I thought that a strange truth. In despising myself all those years, I thought I'd kept myself at bay bu really it was me crying out to myself.
If only I would've listened sooner but I guess hindsight is 20/20.
Much peace your way today,
Janey:battle:
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kune
The author wrote...." I read it, re-read and thought....Now I'm free, do I still feter and torture myself? I think we all do in those weak moments.
And the way out is understanding that we can not go back.. its done... and we did the best we could..
and there is no gage on how good it can be done..
No blame..
I loved that books.. I have not read it in a while..
Jackie
Unanswered Questions...Possible Challenges
Who knows the story? Does the reality match one's previously held beliefs? Who sets the pace? What are the expectations? What are the family rules, social rules-- i.e., holidays, gifts, telephone calls, letters, e-mails? How does one sign off correspondence? Will previous relationships dissolve? How does each person identify the other? How does one handle social instructions? What type of relationship is desired: casual, nurturing. answers only, close? How much emotional support does each person have? Are we open and respectful and nonjudgmental of each other's needs? Will either birth parent be hurt if there is communication with the other birthparent? Will the adopted person want to merge their dual family connections or keep them separate? Will the birthparent desire acceptance by the adoptive parents? Will the adoptive parents want to embrace the birthparent or request that the adopted person not discuss the reunion? Will the birthparent's family welcome the adopted person or will rivalries surface? Can we let go of the fantasy of the reunion for the reality of a real relationship with a real person, flaws and all?
Does one try to bridge the two different worlds? Does one become emotionally exhausted trying to travel through these worlds separately? What happens if well-intended or misguided family, significant others, or friends attempt to steer the relationship? What about "genetic attraction"? Has the birthmother/father shared the existence of their child with family? Has the adopted person shared the search and contact with her/his adoptive parents? Does anyone have to "lead a double life" by keeping this reunion separate from other primary relationship! How does one deal with still being "a secret"? How do life changing events (i.e., marriage, divorce, childbirth, death) impact one's ability to incorporate this new relationship? How do physical or emotional health problems influence reunion?
I honestly believe that if we keep working on our lives before and after reunion we can work through these issues..
I keep thinking of the movie.. The Deep End of the Ocean
[url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Deep_End_of_the_Ocean_%28film%29]The Deep End of the Ocean (film) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia[/url]
Plot
Beth Cappadora is like most mothers--loving, devoted and occasionally overwhelmed by the demands of caring for her family and maintaining a successful career as a photographer. With her three children in tow (two young sons and a baby daughter) Ben, Vincent, and Kerry, she arrives at a hotel for her 15th high school reunion weekend in the year 1988. In the middle of the crowded lobby, she leaves the boys unattended for no more than a minute--and in that moment her three-year-old son Ben disappears. A frantic search turns up nothing; he has vanished in the blink of an eye, seemingly without a trace. As hours turn into days, days into months and months to a decade, Ben's disappearance has a devastating effect on Beth's ability to cope, creating tensions between her and her husband Pat as they start playing the destructive blame game as well as her son, Vincent, who turns to crime. Time goes by, and with Pat's help, Beth and the children go back to leading a seemingly normal life. Then one day, nine years later (1997), a boy named Sam knocks on the Cappadoras' door, a boy who is the same age that their missing son would be and looks like the artist's prediction of what Ben would look like at that age. He asks to mow her lawn and after a while, Beth realizes that Ben looks familiar. After further investigation, she finds out that Ben is her long-lost son, stolen when he was three by a mentally unstable woman.
When she finds the son she sees that he is not comfortable returning home.. What she does is such an important lesson to me..
She let him go back.. even tho the boy had been stolen.. the woman that stole him had passed away.. and the man who was raising him was blameless in the abduction..
She loved the boy and then set him free..
Let him make his own decisions.. Let him decide where he was comfortable..
Jackie