Thursday, May 31, 2007
IF, like many people today,
- you received a cashier's check in the amount of $1,998.00
- it was from The Commerical & Savings Bank, Millersburg, OH or CFE Federal Credit Union (thanks anon!)
- the check date is 05/25/2007
- it is accompanied by a letter from Northwest Financial & Trust Services
- with a subject AWARD CLAIM - FINAL NOTIFICATION
- advising you that you've won at either Reader's Digest, Publishers Clearing House, etc
Don't cash it. You'll have to endure what this guy did.
Please give a call over to Commercial Savings Bank and let them know you want to talk to that nice fraud lady. Their phone number is 800-654-9015
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
who found me by googling
drop me an email or hit me up at Myspace if you need any help.
And good luck, OK?
Play it online, or print it out for the kids on those long summer roadtrips!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Please forward to all adoption forums and list:
A DAY FOR ADOPTEE RIGHTS!
July 20 -27, 2008
New Orleans, LA
The National Conference of State Legislatures is the largest group of its kind, the national organization of STATE LAWMAKERS, the people who DECIDE whether you may access your records… OR NOT.
We propose a one day PROTEST FOR ADOPTEE RIGHTS at the National Conference of State Legislature’s Annual Meeting in New Orleans, LA, on a date to be determined during the week of July 20th, 2008. We propose a mass action of adoptees representing all fifty states, a one-day rally that will be an opportunity for adoptees demonstrate their commitment to adoptee rights and to meet their state delegation. WON’T YOU JOIN US?
WE NEED EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTS THE RIGHTS OF ADOPTEES TO ACCESS THEIR RECORDS OF BIRTH TO COME AND SHOW THESE LAWMAKERS THAT YOU CARE!
Adult adoptees, first families, adoptive families, friends and supporters… EVERYONE.
To find updated information and to sign up for AR 2008 New Orleans, please go to www.adopteerights.net. Organizations interested in participating and sponsorship are encouraged to contact Ron Morgan, firstname.lastname@example.org. See you there!
I was in and out of the house a lot over the holiday weekend. I did a bit of traveling and lots and lots of errands. My cool husband was on the phone nonstop making a zillion phone calls. This is all I heard:
Hello, may I please speak with ---------? Oh hi, my name is ---------- and I’m calling from New York. I’ve been doing some genealogical research on the ------- family and was wondering if you had time to answer some questions? Ok great thanks. Does the name -------- mean anything to you? And ---------? And -------------? (combined with sounds of affirmative excitement on the other line. Our phones are loud)
Well he was my grandfather that I never met, which means you are my cousin/aunt/uncle (even more affirmative excitement on the other line)
His inbox is full of emails and pictures. He hasn’t gotten off the phone. Our voicemail has long messages from his newfound family line.
If I weren’t so grumpy I’d be happy for him.
And I am happy for him really, but it’s irritating too. I’m irritated that a few sleepless nights on Ancestry.com and Voompeople/ZabbaSearch gave him all he needed, and that he feels so comfortable picking up the phone and calling complete strangers.
And I’m jealous that he’s so accepted by them.
And I get pissed when he tells me he knows how I feel because he doesn’t, never, in a million years, know how I feel.
And then I feel petty and mean and small because he’s trying to understand.
But he never, ever could.
I read once about a mom who refused contact with her searching son. She had said he waited too long to find her, and that if it was so important he would have done it years ago instead of waiting until he was in his 50’s. That it was too hard for her to deal with now. And at first I started to try and understand her point of view, but then I was just fuck that. Isn’t that what I always do? Think about the feelings of first moms; think about the feelings of adoptive moms. It takes a real self slap upside the head to think of my own feelings.
Who knows the reasons he didn’t search until he was in his 50’s, and god knows if he wasn’t online it would have been fuck all hard to get any information at all. But all I could think was, what a double punch to the stomach. Guy probably grew up his whole primal wounded life with the bad-adopted-baby syndrome, comes out of the fog only to be denied contact because he waited too long.
Your fault you got adopted – your fault you were refused contact.
Doesn’t adoption just give you the warm, warm fuzzies?
Look at this fog picture. Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it peaceful?
So peaceful to just walk back into it.
Please don’t leave comments asking me not to give up. I appreciate it so much but honestly you’re stuck with me. I’m just blogging out the bad stuff.
I just wish I could have some time to myself to process this. I wish for one minute I had an empty house and privacy. Talk to you later. Gotta do some laundry and then go to work.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Why are they so upset? Why are they always whining?
Look at all the nice shit they have.
They really should be grateful.
But then they go and put this pathetic advocacy site online.
Like anybody really cares with all the troubles in this world.
Really, I just don't get it.
I'm outta here. Have a good weekend.
P.S. The recipe for Roast Duck with Mango Salsa is in the kitchen. But please preheat the oven to exactly 425 or it just won't come out right. Thanks.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Yay three more!
OK the first one was briefly introduced during a manic post regarding my adoption books, but she’s since moved over here to Blogger. Jeannie’s older blog was at 360, where you can still read her unfailing determination to get her information in her archives. The new blogger blog is over at Newly Orphaned.
Another new one I’m reading (when I’m not staring catatonically into space) is My Name is Simon Bell. Start at the older post and work your way backwards, it’s quite a good story…. if tales of fighting civil service flunkies across the Pond is your idea of a good story. Well, it’s MY idea of a good story damnit, so there.
The third one isn’t really an adoptee blog in the sense of blogs that are all adoption all the time. But if you’re the type of reader who likes stories of genealogical hunts and discoveries like I am, you’ll really enjoy this. The blog is named Muse Gumbo. The story of his ancestry hunt is broken down into 8 separate posts back in the March archives and it’s a fascinating and great read. As is the rest of the non-adoption stuff posted.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
For those of you who are a little… ahem.. older, like me, could you ever have imagined the internet the way it is now?
Who remembers FIDO: Viking Magic, Shadow’s Lair, Channel One?
OK so I’m older than most of you, but I remember them. I was there.
Search and reunion have taken on a whole new life and a whole new meaning. If the person you’re looking for is online and left a googleprint, god it’s so easy. Really, remember the old days where if you were looking for someone, you had to go to the library to look up phone books from other states?
When you read blogs, you gather little snips of people’s social networking experiences. In some ways it’s so easy now. Just a little bit of information on the person you’re thinking about, and you can build a profile around their lives, if their names are unique enough. With my family it’s tougher. Such really common names. And my mom’s name can be done in at least six variations of nicknames.
What’s my mom called? Does she go by her full name, or is it shortened? I try to meditate and think on it. I know I know it. I know I heard her called it when I was inside her. I lie down on my bed and curl into a fetal position and try to blank my mind. One nickname comes to mind, but I’m not sure. Is that really what she liked to be called back then, or is it what I want her to be called?
I google her but she’s not online anywhere I can find. She’s not on myspace in any variation of her name. And lots of women her age and in her zip code are, actually. One who looks like me quite a bit. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her, but it’s not her. The details on her children don’t match up with my brother and sister.
But again, I think everyone looks like me. When you grow up with nobody who looks like you, you become an expert in scanning faces. Seriously Homeland Security should hire only closed records adoptees to work for their face identification program. If there’s one thing we know, it’s faces.
I found a cousin on Myspace. But his profile is friends only. No one else that I can find there. Not my brother, my sister or any of my aunts. How odd. Myspace is a country, but my family seems to live apart.
I check on Eons which is kind of like a Myspace for those over 50. One profile there. In her zip code. With the nickname I think is hers. And the first six letters of her last name. No details on the profile though. No friends, no entries, not online since 2006. And such a common name, both the first name and last name. And then I think – do I really want her to be online? Because if she was online, wouldn’t she have found me?
Then I get paranoid. They all know about me. They are all reading me behind proxies so I don’t see the Pennsylvania IP addresses. None of them want me to contact them. They’re calling lawyers and arranging restraining orders as we speak to keep away the psycho cyber stalker adoptee.
It’s a blessing and a curse, connectivity. To be able to connect so easy, but the heartache when the connections don’t come.
It’s so weird to be so connected. To make it so easy to find people. Or to see who is looking for you. It’s also so weird to get so emotionally attached.
Yeah, it’s true. I met my husband on the internet because of a mistyped email address. I fell in love with him before I even knew what he looked like. How weird is that?
Not weird at all, really, when you look at it through the eyes of the past five years. I’m just old enough for it to seem odd. But also it’s a caution. I get so emotionally attached to people online. And I’m afraid of people, really.
People scare me. I allow people the opportunity to hurt me. Actually people with the capacity to hurt me the most were the ones I used to attach to the greatest. And why wouldn’t I? If someone loved you enough to leave you, then people who didn’t love you were more likely to stick around.
Treat me like dirt. I’ll love you for it. I’ll be loyal to you and defend you to the end. I’ll move mountains for you, if only you abuse me. I’ll justify you and feel sorry for you and be there for you, just please walk all over me.
Say terrible things to me. Tell me I have no common sense but you love me. Tell me I have a guilty conscious when I have a nightmare but you love me. Tell me you don’t like me but you love me. Tell me it’s a shame I have my feelings but you love me. Tell me how great you are. Tell me how noble and righteous you are that you kept your virginity until you got married. Tell me that kids who are molested bring it on themselves by being weak. Tell me that my first mother had no common sense because she gave herself away, and tell me that my first father only used her for a notch on his belt, when you didn’t even know them. Tell me how you chose me. Tell me how I grew in your heart. And then deny telling me any of those things. Gosh, you’re my best friend.
And people who were healthy? People who were whole, and healing, and there for me, and good for me? Sayonara, suckers. Not so cruelly, mind you, but in a much more pathetic way. I love you. So I’m leaving. I love you but I’m bad, I’m dirty, I’m illegitimate, I’m incompetent, so I’m leaving. I’m leaving you out of love. I don’t deserve to be around you. So I’m leaving. Because I love you.
I love you enough, to leave you.
I want you to have the very best.
So I’m leaving. It’s for the best. It’s sanctioned by God. The mother before King Solomon left her baby rather than let him be cut in half. So I’m leaving.
For some kids, telling them their mom loved them so much she left them doesn't work out all that good in the end. Some like me really take it to heart.
It’s so easy and so tempting to leave. But the thing about the internet, and the point of this post before it took that left hand turn and kept on rolling, is that if you leave, you leave behind your googleprint and your connections. You were here. You existed. You connected.
When things get tough the fog looks so calm and peaceful. I’ve been sucked back into it’s Candy Mountain wonder so many times. This shit is scary and life is hectic and it’s easy to say fuck it I’m out of here.
Starting a public diary was a way of keeping me from leaving. I didn’t know this at the time, but there was a part of myself looking out for me. Get out of the mailing lists. Get out there. Connect and network and friend. Because if you leave this time, there will be a record of you.
I’m so lucky that I work from home. Sometimes I find myself sitting at the computer here with my eyes squeezed shut and my fingernails digging into my palms and my arms crossed over my heart and a grimace so tight on my face that my cheeks hurt.
That kind of behavior in an office building will get you fired, you know.
I’m so lucky that in this midst of all this, I’ve got these threads. Networks and connections and friends and googleprints. Because sometimes I find myself sitting at the computer here with my eyes squeezed shut and my fingernails digging into my palms and my arms crossed over my heart and a grimace so tight on my face that my cheeks hurt.
That kind of behavior in adoption land is considered just fine if that's what you need to do, when you’ve got friends.
So yay for blogs and online friends and forums with fun smileys and myspace and those who inhabit therein.
And yay as well for image macros. How would I ever get through the lull without them? Four out of five doctors agree, lolcats are clinically recommended for lull based depression.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Really, my sense of timing is just all off.
This should have been the first post I made back in the start of May. But those of you who’ve been here…. well, you know how messed up you get during this.
This is The Lull.
The Lull is a place which exists both in time and in emotion. Lull is the & sign separating Search & Reunion.
The Lull is a place where you realize everything you know is wrong. Nothing you’ve read prepares you for this, really. No amount of therapy can come near it. No matter how far you’ve come, The Lull is where you realize you’re no better than any happy ass adoptee still reveling in the pool and pony. The Lull is where you wish you were one.
The Lull is where that phrase you spouted so many times, ‘adoption is a lifelong experience’ bitch-slaps your pontificating self across the face. Because you said, it, and you believed it, but you didn’t have a clue what it meant.
The Lull is where you realize just how hard and just how long adoption sucks, and oh does it sound so good to go running away from it all. It’s so tempting to fold, to give in, to say, “This is just too much” and hide from it. To pull up the protective barrier of medical records only. Or to pull away entirely.
The Lull is where you get an address, and realize your entire life your mother lived 12.6 miles away from you. Where you find out that for one summer, you lived in your mother's neighborhood when you went to stay with a relative. That you walked right past your mother's house every single day taking your little cousin to the playground. That your cousins went to school with your younger brother and sister whom you never knew existed.
How do you get your head around this knowledge? It's too big. It's too vast. It's too empty. It's The Lull.
Being in adoptee fog is so much better than this.
And if you’re really lucky, and have been blessed and graced by the companionship of those who’ve gone before you, The Lull is where you know it’s only going to get worse. That what you think is The Lull is only bullshit, and that six months from now you’ll look back on this post and realize just how wrong you were. That there is no end to Search, no matter if Reunion comes or doesn’t.
You know that there will never be a good enough answer to the question Why? You know Why in your mind. You understand all the nuances and complexities and coercions and choicelessness of Why, but there will always be that disconnect between the brain and the heart.
To a newborn infant, there is no such thing as Why when it comes to the loss of Mother. And to the adopted adult, who was once an adopted child who was lied to again and again and again, you view every member of your adopted family with suspicion you think will never end.
How on earth, could they not know? I think I will never know the truth of what they knew. And I think I will never trust them again.
Search started sometime in the afternoon on Wednesday, October 12, 1983, in the adoption book section of the Framingham, MA library.
The Lull began on Saturday, May 5, 2007 a little after noon at my computer.
First contact has not yet been determined for a number of reasons. Most pressing is because of work and family obligations preventing me from having any alone time. But also because I’m not well right now. I don’t want to make any call in this head-space.
Because so many have asked “HOW”, I’ve made a separate post for that. I’m not feeling comfortable enough to put all the details out yet, so it’s password-protected. Eventually in time I’ll move it over here, but for now it stays where it is. If you’d like to know how now, send me an email or hit me up over at Myspace and I’ll give you the password and the link.
I’ve been a horrible neighbor in the blogosphere lately, and I’ll probably be a horrible neighbor for a time to come. I’m not feeling very good right now, so often I don’t comment because I’m afraid of saying something stupid. I’m reading you though, and I’m appreciating you very much.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
On the day last month I received my blow off letter from the state of Pennsylvania saying no one registered to match with me, someone in my real family paid money to have memorial candles lit to honor my real grandparents.
Was it my mom?
Was it one of my aunts?
Was it my brother or my sister?
I don’t know.
I know for a full week memorial candles burned in their memory.
That makes me feel small and insignificant. And worthless. And forgotten.
Does anybody know about me?
I’m alive. I’m here. I exist.
I know of you. Do you know of me?
I know your streets. I know your neighborhoods.
My godson got married at your church last summer.
I don’t know what hurts more.
That they might not know about me.
Or that they know about me but don’t care.
It cost me $10 to file that registry search at the state. It cost someone in my family $10 to pay for those candles at church.
I hate adoption.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
We've got two offers on our house for sale upstate!!
One's a high offer with lots of conditions
One's a low offer with not a lot of conditions
We bought the house for my stepdaughter to live in when she was a junior in college. She had moved out of the dorm and into her first apartment. When we got the bill for her yearly rent, I said to my cool husband, "Jesus Christ! This is the down payment on a freaking house!"
So we bought an apartment house instead, and paid the mortgage from the rent of other little college kids. We were going to hang onto it because we thought my stepson would be going to the same college, but he's discovered that playing video games pays much more than any job, so go figure. How come I couldn't get paid for playing Atari when I was his age?
I'll be glad to get rid of it. It was a beautiful old house broken down into four apartments, and we really put our heart and soul into it making it a nice place for kids to live in, but it's time for it to go.
I'm slowly but surely making my way through emails and whatnot. This is just such an incredibly hectic time with the kids, and the pending house sale is just adding more. Things will definitely quiet down in a few weeks, and I'll be able to get that post up that answers the HOW DID YOU DO IT? question that I keep getting. I'm not ignoring you, I swear. I'm just frazzled. I can't help it. I'm adopted, damnit.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
I just can't get enough of adoptee blogs. How 'bout you?
A new one is Never Said Goodbye by AdoptedEmilie. There are just six posts right now, but I'm looking forward to many more.
Another new one which I'm also anticipating reading much more of in the future is Casper Andersen. You have got to get yourself a large cup of coffee and read through the series of articles in his latest post. It's so good.
Whenever I find a new adoptee blog I'm so happy. More voices speaking their truths, and adding their own experiences and feelings out there. They are all so important to me. I may not get to read each one everyday the way I'd like to, but as I see the link list growing bit by bit I feel this wave of unity. Each one of the stories is as unique as we are, but we all share the same thing.
We're here, we're adopted, and we're telling our truth.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Tomorrow, May 15th, is Mary’s birthday. I really hoped this year her sister Jenny would be able to wish her a happy birthday in person.
Maybe next year she will.
Take a quick peek at Jen’s page? Jen is hands down the hardest searching real kid in all of adoptionville. Let’s all hold an image for her that next year, she and her sister will celebrate her birthday together.
ISO my older female sibling 5/15/68 Do you know my sister? Her birthday is getting near!!!!! Maybe she is a friend of yours? A neighbor? Someone you went to school with? She may not even know she is adopted!! Could it be you??
She was born 5/15/68 in Bronx, NY at Misericordia Hospital. Her name at birth was Mary McGrail. She was then surrendered at birth to Nassau County for adoption. She will be turning 39 this year! Her mother, my mother too, was 23 at the time of birth. She was 5’5, 130 lbs Blonde and Blue eyes. She worked for the airlines. She entered the Catholic unwed mothers home 4/17/68 to receive prenatal care and shelter. (To be hidden from the world) She never wanted to give this child up. Times were so different back then and she would have never been allowed to keep her. She never forgot about her first daughter she had to give up. She loved her and mourned her loss her entire life.
Please help me find my sister. I bet she has blue eyes!!! Please help me get the word out that I am searching for her. Please add me as a friend to help me with my search. Please Show this to everyone you know!!! I would be so happy to know that she is well. If you know anything please contact me. If you would like to help me in my search... just getting the word out there for me would be awesome. If you could post this on your bulletin on MySpace that way many more people would see it :) I have posted all over the net.... I am a registered sibling with the state of NY. I have left letters with Nassau County for her. I have joined every adoption registry group i can find. I am also registered with ISRR. I hope and pray I can find her.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
I'm back. It was a wonderful weekend.
I've come home to a sink full of dishes, overflowing litterboxes, unmade beds, unopened mail, and tons and tons and tons of email. It's been a hectic, emotional week and I've got more than a few hectic emotional weeks ahead of me. I promise I'll write back as soon as I can, and I have tons of new links and blogs I want to share, as well as tons of links and blogs I want to read.
BUT FIRST I MUST LISTEN TO JULIE ON THE ADOPTION SHOW!! AND SO MUST YOU! NOW! NOW, DAMNIT IT! NOW! GO!
I'll be back soon. Thanks everyone.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Does anyone know of any support forums specifically for brothers and sisters of adoptees?
That's a question I ran across today.
I personally know two women who found out as adults that their mothers had surrendered babies for adoption, but I don't know of any specific support group for them. Does anyone?
If not, maybe this would be a good new category board for AFC... I'll see what kind of response I get.
gotta go back to work now....
Sunday, May 06, 2007
I'm comfortable letting out little bits and pieces. This is the first one.
I'd let out more, but it's against Section 2905. Legally in order for this blog to act upon your request you must file with the Clerk of the Orphans' Court a verified Petition and proposed Decree which complies with the State and County Orphans' Court Rules of Procedure.
But I wouldn't make you do that, because that's mean.
I just wanted you to know I'm going to be insane for a wee bit. I may post 20 times a day or none at all. I may reply to emails or not. I may visit your blogs a zillion times and leave incoherent comments or only read them in my reader, or stay away from the computer entirely. So I apologize in advance. Please cut me a little slack.
Because I'm a crazy Irish bastard.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Well I'm really glad that Really's comment is really no longer on that news article.
But I'm really sorry I really got everyone all riled up.
I really believe people like her are in the real minority. I really believe that.
I really believe in a lot of real things.
May, is a really weird month for me. Always has been. Really weird things happen in May. Not bad things mind you, but weird things.
This May is no exception.
I really need to catch up on some blog reading. And then I really need to get to work.
May is spent in preparation of an annual ritual in the home of many dysfunctional Brady Bunch families like ours, and that is the Annual Summer Migration of Children. Although our children are older, the ritual continues. We have bedrooms to rearrange, old furniture to toss out, new furniture to buy, insults such as "OMG U GUYZ HAVE NO CLOSET SPACE!" and "THERE IS NOTHING TO EAT IN THIS HOUSE!" screamed in front of an overstocked fridge to prepare ourselves for. We really love that. I'm really telling the truth.
So I'm really sorry I upset everyone by posting Really's really nasty comment. Let's pray for her. Let's pray she goes for a nice walk in the woods to clear her head. And then steps in a huge pile of deer shit.
Oh no see there I go again. Alright I'm just weird right now, because it's May. Weird things are happening of a real nature. Stay tuned, sports fans. The game is going into extra innings. And you know I fucking hate baseball so why I keep using these sports references is really beyond me.