Dancing with Mr. D

Last weekend I thought I might've found my daughter. It was a chance thing, I won't bore you with the details but I thought I might've located her through a message that'd been left to me somewhere else I'd never been before. Several things happened to me in that moment; none of which I was aware of at the time. I immediately felt an unfamiliar twinge; one I'd left behind long ago on the steps of a courthouse. Hope. That was something I hadn't expected because it was relayed to me back then that she would never look for me, would never need to, that I would be long forgotten and unneeded and to simply go on with my life. So hope was a terrifying prospect and I didn't know what to do with it. My codependent brain began to run its party line against the ideas that were formulating within. I thought about leaving a message for the woman who'd been my counselor briefly but my codepedent self told me I couldn't do that, that it was unethical and to leave her be. I thought about writing a post to everyone here but my codependent brain said that that was imposing on people who had their own problems. I think my mother's cynical voice was in there too telling me that "only the weak and cowardly spill their guts". So I emailed a few people and then spent the next few days wanting to send them apologies for having the conceit to lean on them. But that was over this past week. That evening however, sitting before my computer @ 12:30 a.m., I was stunned. I called to hubby who came running. He looked at the message that'd been left for me and immediately went on the defensive. He sat down and grabbed me softly by the shoulders and this is what he said to me, "Baby this isn't your daughter. Remember what I do for a living. I see this all the time. People get other people's information and then they use to screw with people, to hurt them. They use it to hurt people like you." People like me? I asked him if he meant birthmothers and he said, "No baby. Desperate people. You're desperate. You want to believe this is your daughter no matter what the evidence is to the contrary you want to believe it." It was hard to hear my husband calling me desparate but only because deep down I knew he was right. The days passed while I waited for word. I was embarrassed that I'd reached out to people, regretful that I hadn't reached out to one person here in particular, remorseful that I'd cut God out of the mix and angry that the past that'd sent me out into the street and to the choices I would make was flying up into my mind replaying itself over and over. Every heartbreaking violent detail of the life that'd led me where it led me. Every word, every smell, every feeling. Somewhere in between all that I left a pot of potatoes on the stove to boil until all the water was gone and they were smoking. I just put them on and then forgot. Same thing happened the next day with a pot of spaghetti noodles. I went out to get milk and then forgot what street I lived on. I left the dogs out in 14 degree weather because I forgot I'd let them out. Hubby was standing by saying that he was getting very worried for me. I was flying off the handle over the smallest of things. Insignificant little things like dropping an envelope were sending me into fits. Someone in here sent me a PM saying that they'd noticed that I was upset and did I want to talk. But codependent brain said to me that that person was an Administrator. And in my corporate experience that equaled "Supervisor" and when your supervisor calls you to their office the correct response is "Sorry Boss. My Bad. Won't happen again." So instead of trusting someone, that's what I did. Sent a PM along those lines thereby cutting off help from someone who had knowledge to offer. And at the end of all that a whispered voice. "Psst, Janey. This is the silence calling to you. I warned you that you wouldn't be able to handle all this. Didn't I say that? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you exposing yourself in that place? Admitting what it's been like? Talking about your life with all of this? Do you really think people want to hear? Come back into the silence where it's safe and warm and nobody knows you and you can hide and be numb and pretend. You can live out your life and wait for your children to find you but you don't have to inconvenience yourself and other people. People think you're crazy any way. Why prove them right? Keep your dignity. Stop talking. Come back to me where it's quiet and there's no mirrors; nothing to look into but velvet nothingness." No. I can't. I can't live like a vampire again. Afraid of the truth of my own reflection. Afraid of the daylight. Living in a dank basement, living in a suffocating coffin with the undead; my memories of one lifetime lived in sorrow. I just can't. I will talk even if no one hears my words, because I have to hear them. I just can't go back to the silence. I just can't. Lord, I was dancin', dancin', dancin' so free

Dancin', dancin', dancin' so free

Dancin', Lord, keep your hand off me

Dancin' with Mr. D., with Mr. D., with Mr. D.

Will it be poison put in my glass

Will it be slow or will it be fast?

The Rolling Stones