I was supposed to be on the road all this month, but thankfully we’ve had some budget cuts and travel has been postponed. It’s a mixed blessing. While I hate the travel, there is something so wonderfully sterile and emotionally numbing about being on the road that can be like an addiction. Work numbs the pain. Sitting here alone in my home office during the day, that’s when the tears really come.
I’m bummed today.
I knew the blues were going to come, but that never makes it any easier.
Sometimes happy reunions make me sad. I know that’s messed up but it is what it is.
I want a happy reunion. I want someone to be looking for me.
I want somebody to take pictures of me and brag about me.
I’m not trying to hijack any recent happiness or anything, because I honestly am so incredibly full of joy for those who have reunited, but this is just how I feel right now about me. Kind of irrational and emotional. It always happens when I hear about reunions. I run on this endorphin high living vicariously through the happiness of others, but then I just fall into this incredibly unpleasant vat of self-pity.
I’m irrational and emotional with each passing year that goes by where I don’t have any matches.
Believe me; I’m not naive enough to think every reunion is a happy ending. I’ve read enough stories to know there are plenty which are anything but. But God, I want that chance. Even if it means that what is on the other end is something that’s going to make me even more depressed than I am right now, I want that chance.
This blank emptiness of knowing nothing about my birth combined with the knowledge that people who don’t know me have access to know everything about my birth is enough to entitle me to a bad day or two. Or ten thousand.
You know, something is kind of eating at me too. A memory of the conversation I had last month with the woman at court. Just one line that in retrospect has me thinking. One of her comments to me was, “they can see what they can release to you, if anything is still in there after all these years.”
I’m irritated that it’s taken me this long for a dimly lit 2 watt light bulb to go off over my head, but doesn’t this:
§ 2905. Impounding of proceedings, and access to records
(a) General Rule.-- All petitions, exhibits, reports, notes of testimony, decrees, and other papers pertaining to any proceeding under this part or former statutes relating to adoption shall be kept in the files of the courts as a permanent record thereof
mean that everything should still be in there after all these years? Yanno I’m just a dumb bastard here, but in the state of Pennsylvania, exactly how permanent is permanent supposed to be?
I’m irrational and emotional that I have not heard back from Orphan’s Court, even though I know it can take anywhere from six months to a year to get a reply. Also I’m irrational and emotional over just the phrase ‘Orphan’s Court’. Is that the most preposterous thing you’ve ever heard? Every time I think it or write it or see it all I can think is this:
And the judge looks like Mr. Bumble in my imagination too. Here's the type of response I get in my head when I ask for my adoption records:
I don’t know. I’m just blah. This lovely ice and sleet storm we’re having doesn’t make matters any better.
I am not an orphan! Adoption sucks.
I’ve gotten a few really nice emails this past week – thank you very much. If any of these people are reading this please don’t think I’m ignoring you; I’m not. I’m just really wrapped up in myself right now, and I want to be in a space when I write back to you to be one where I can really focus. I’m just in a space right now where I want to read other people’s blogs and post little short comments here and there, or vent on my own blog and post a zillion times a day. But probably this weekend I’ll write back, mmm’kay?
I’m trying to look for fun things to look forward to in order to make myself feel better. Right now I’m looking for a good tattoo artist in Long Island. I’ve been surfing around the galleries of a few of them. My cool husband has a number of tattoos, but I can’t find the card of the guy who did them. I want to get kind of a smaller training wheels tattoo first to see how I hold up to the pain. I don’t have much of a pain threshold (read: none), but I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo on my son’s 18th birthday. I’m thinking of getting a tattoo on my back in the shape of the necklace he gave me. But that would be a big job. So I’m thinking of getting a wee itty bitty one first.
But for right now, work is over. At least until my pager goes off. So I'm going to run up to the store for some smokes, make a big pot of coffee, read a few blogs, and just cry a bit.