40.
Yes. I made it to the ripe ol' age of 40.
I won't go into too much detail as that is not what is currently on my mind however I can tell you that for the first time in memory I did not have a single negative or self hate feeling on my actual date of birth this year. All due to the love of my husband.
Nuff said on that for now.
What brings me by my blog after so much time away?
A brain full of words twisting and mixing, forming new words by blurring into each other.
You might recall that about 6 months ago I mailed letters to people who had signed Dottye's funeral sign in book. I looked for names with address in Ohio, Nevada, Arizona as well as Massachusetts. It was a long shot.
I'm used to long shots.
The day OF my 40th birthday I came home from breakfast with my husband and sister to find a message on my machine.
Yes.
THE day of my birthday.
It was a man who had received one of my long ago sent letters. He explained that he was just now getting to me as he had taken the time to think about who the letter was intended to go to.
He is the son of a man who is now deceased, a man named Robert. That is who my letter was to go to.
I waited a few days before calling him back.
My husband had surprised me by flying my sister in for my birthday weekend, and then surprised me again with a surprise party! I was busy, emotionally worn out and frankly totally out of it for most of the weekend.
After my sister left on Monday I took the day to gather myself then called this man back the next day.
We spoke for over and hour.
His father.
His father often spoke of Dottye with much fondness.
His father.
His father grew up near Boston.
His father.
His father was 6 foot 2.
Once again my heart and my brain do battle.
So many things fall into line.
So many things that offer no concrete proof.
Once again I make the choice to send off for a DNA kit.
We should know within 7 weeks if this man whom I spoke to is my brother.
A brother who shares the same father.
It's hard to say what my reaction will be if once again it is not a match and simply another twist on my road.
I can tell you what my reaction will be if it is a match.
Chances are you will hear me from your own home no matter how far away if I get that call or email saying "you have a new match."
Wait with me for the 7 weeks.
Hope with me that it takes less then 7 weeks.
Share my journey and give me the strength to deal with the results.
Strength.
Ironic.
Hope
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Saturday, March 31, 2012
The kindness rule......
A few people that I know have received my book of poetry. One person I have know pretty much my entire life but we've become very close over the past 15 plus years.
She called and left a message on my machine.
She was very impressed, I believe she said among other things, blown away.
Her words were kind, I felt my face turn red as I listened to the message.
I called her back and reminded her that we had a kindness rule in this house. You must only be kind in small doses, keeps us all grounded. It's part joke, part truth, part my way of keeping that hard exterior.
She was only able to read a few poems at a time, I'm not totally sure why. Maybe part of it has to do with knowing my story so well? She did say that she picked a few to read and found herself reading them more then once. Then she had to stop herself.
The feedback so far has been interesting. I know that my personality would not be one that you might normally think these words and thoughts would come from. Then at the same time I think maybe it is.
While I share my information like a very open book, I do tend to back away from the emotional part of my own story. My hard exterior makes it easier to keep most people at arms length away, which is my often failed attempt at keeping them from my heart, keeping people from hurting me.
That being said there are a few who have found their way in, some sooner then others, and some lost their privileges at my heart. Hurt it a few times and I may smile, but I won't ever let you back in, though I may smile and lie so not to hurt your feelings.
I digress. I usually do.
My point is that this has been a rather interesting life so far. A person like myself, closed emotionally to so many, made the choice to have my deepest feelings published. It may be as close as I will ever get to having a child. The pain, the joy, the fears and the hopes. They are not for the flesh of a child, but rather for the book I produced and hope will in some way, touch people that I may never have the honor of meeting.
She called and left a message on my machine.
She was very impressed, I believe she said among other things, blown away.
Her words were kind, I felt my face turn red as I listened to the message.
I called her back and reminded her that we had a kindness rule in this house. You must only be kind in small doses, keeps us all grounded. It's part joke, part truth, part my way of keeping that hard exterior.
She was only able to read a few poems at a time, I'm not totally sure why. Maybe part of it has to do with knowing my story so well? She did say that she picked a few to read and found herself reading them more then once. Then she had to stop herself.
The feedback so far has been interesting. I know that my personality would not be one that you might normally think these words and thoughts would come from. Then at the same time I think maybe it is.
While I share my information like a very open book, I do tend to back away from the emotional part of my own story. My hard exterior makes it easier to keep most people at arms length away, which is my often failed attempt at keeping them from my heart, keeping people from hurting me.
That being said there are a few who have found their way in, some sooner then others, and some lost their privileges at my heart. Hurt it a few times and I may smile, but I won't ever let you back in, though I may smile and lie so not to hurt your feelings.
I digress. I usually do.
My point is that this has been a rather interesting life so far. A person like myself, closed emotionally to so many, made the choice to have my deepest feelings published. It may be as close as I will ever get to having a child. The pain, the joy, the fears and the hopes. They are not for the flesh of a child, but rather for the book I produced and hope will in some way, touch people that I may never have the honor of meeting.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Poems
As many of you who are close friends or on my Facebook know, I had a book of poetry published.
The title is Shadows of a Dark-Alley Adoptee
I was asked today what the title meant.
A friend named JoAnne actually came up with the title. As soon as she suggested it I knew it was perfect.
Shadows : so often I feel like I am only a showdown of myself, a shadow of who people think I am, a shadow of who I wish to be.
Dark-Alley : to me, a dark alley is the same as that part of myself that I keep hidden. It's the secrets, the pains, the parts I try to stay away from. Walking down a dark alley is scary, sometimes dangerous, and this is the same way that I feel about part of my soul.
Adoptee : I do hope there is no explanation needed for that word.
When I told my husband " I'm going to try and publish a book of poems" he looked rather confused. It was then that I shared with him a few of my writings. I had never told anyone about my poems, though I had posted a few online.
I never thought of them as poems, but rather as thoughts that sometimes happen to have a rhythm of sorts.
Also, I do not recall what I wrote, which is often the case when speaking or writing from the soul. I had an editor so for myself, I only had to change what I was told was wrong spelling or grammar, and then re type them. This did not require me to read or absorb them.
Last night I decided that I should probably go ahead and read what I had written. I chose to read five poems that I had already share with other people.
My feelings were a bit mixed.
So rather then go with feelings, which I tend to not deal with very well, I thought about them in a more analytical way.
While my poems are based on being adopted, because in fact that is what my life is based on, the poems that I read we're dealing with pain and loss. A loneliness that comes with grief, a desire to be understood in a world wrapped with feelings that can make a person feel so alone.
My hope? Well this book of poems is actually about hope for others. I find it is often easier to hope for good for others, as I tend to judge others far less then I judge myself. That being said, my number one hope with this book is that I can touch people in a deeper way then my own personal story. That I might shed some light on a person who is dealing with the sadness of another. Or that the person reading my poems might share this horrible sadness, and feel a little less alone.
The chances of this book leading to anyone who knew Dottye or my birth father is so slim, I am aware of that. There is a tinge of hope for that as well though.
Lastly, wouldn't it be nice to be remembered for setting a goal and reaching it? That goal, not finding my birth family, not being a poet or author, actually that goal is to be a better person then some thought I could be. To be the caring person that we all have in us to be, to help just one person to know that while they might have a dark side, that does not mean that they are damaged. Nope, it just means that they see things in a different way.
Shadows of a Dark-Alley Adoptee
Yup, that's me.
The title is Shadows of a Dark-Alley Adoptee
I was asked today what the title meant.
A friend named JoAnne actually came up with the title. As soon as she suggested it I knew it was perfect.
Shadows : so often I feel like I am only a showdown of myself, a shadow of who people think I am, a shadow of who I wish to be.
Dark-Alley : to me, a dark alley is the same as that part of myself that I keep hidden. It's the secrets, the pains, the parts I try to stay away from. Walking down a dark alley is scary, sometimes dangerous, and this is the same way that I feel about part of my soul.
Adoptee : I do hope there is no explanation needed for that word.
When I told my husband " I'm going to try and publish a book of poems" he looked rather confused. It was then that I shared with him a few of my writings. I had never told anyone about my poems, though I had posted a few online.
I never thought of them as poems, but rather as thoughts that sometimes happen to have a rhythm of sorts.
Also, I do not recall what I wrote, which is often the case when speaking or writing from the soul. I had an editor so for myself, I only had to change what I was told was wrong spelling or grammar, and then re type them. This did not require me to read or absorb them.
Last night I decided that I should probably go ahead and read what I had written. I chose to read five poems that I had already share with other people.
My feelings were a bit mixed.
So rather then go with feelings, which I tend to not deal with very well, I thought about them in a more analytical way.
While my poems are based on being adopted, because in fact that is what my life is based on, the poems that I read we're dealing with pain and loss. A loneliness that comes with grief, a desire to be understood in a world wrapped with feelings that can make a person feel so alone.
My hope? Well this book of poems is actually about hope for others. I find it is often easier to hope for good for others, as I tend to judge others far less then I judge myself. That being said, my number one hope with this book is that I can touch people in a deeper way then my own personal story. That I might shed some light on a person who is dealing with the sadness of another. Or that the person reading my poems might share this horrible sadness, and feel a little less alone.
The chances of this book leading to anyone who knew Dottye or my birth father is so slim, I am aware of that. There is a tinge of hope for that as well though.
Lastly, wouldn't it be nice to be remembered for setting a goal and reaching it? That goal, not finding my birth family, not being a poet or author, actually that goal is to be a better person then some thought I could be. To be the caring person that we all have in us to be, to help just one person to know that while they might have a dark side, that does not mean that they are damaged. Nope, it just means that they see things in a different way.
Shadows of a Dark-Alley Adoptee
Yup, that's me.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
You don't know me
Sometimes I wish I could escape the image of me.
No one knows me.
We only put out there what we allow to be seen.
We only know how we treat others.
I was a JAP at least that was when I was young.
I was defiant and ran.
I was a whore.
I am broken.
I have always been broken.
I'm loving, I care.
I hurt people just by being.
Please stop being nice to me!
You don't even know me!
No one knows me.
We only put out there what we allow to be seen.
We only know how we treat others.
I was a JAP at least that was when I was young.
I was defiant and ran.
I was a whore.
I am broken.
I have always been broken.
I'm loving, I care.
I hurt people just by being.
Please stop being nice to me!
You don't even know me!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Self
I wonder how long it takes to find myself.
What if I decide that I don't like me.
How often did others know that they were keeping me silent,
Killing me a tiny bit each day.
Will the me inside of me be happy that I finally looked for her,
Instead of looking for others?
Will she retreat to an even darker place,
Hide her face in shame and pain.
Will she forgive me?
I wonder if I will like me?
What if I decide that I don't like me.
How often did others know that they were keeping me silent,
Killing me a tiny bit each day.
Will the me inside of me be happy that I finally looked for her,
Instead of looking for others?
Will she retreat to an even darker place,
Hide her face in shame and pain.
Will she forgive me?
I wonder if I will like me?
Monday, January 9, 2012
Sex , effing, or love?
I know where I stand on the three. I don't think that sex or effing has anything to do with love, though I think you should love the person that you do it with.
When I spoke to Allison Dubois the first time, we spoke for the most part about Dottye. I don't have my notes here in bed but I do recall something along the lines of Dottye looking for love, believing each man that to,d her "I love you".
There are days when I think I must be so much like her,or at least that I used to be so much like her. Lately I wonder though if maybe I am actually completely opposite from her.
Either way I don't think there is a thing that I could find out about her that would make me turn my back on her or speak unkindly of her. She struggled , that's a definite given. I believe we had a lot of the same sort of things happen in our lives. While she was looking for love, I was just looking to be rescued.
Love and rescue.
They kind of are the same really.
I will always keep my heart open for her. She is a part of my soul, and I will always feel the need to defend her. I think maybe because it feels like no one defended her enough while she was here.
My book sits in a box, I've yet to read it. I still feel like its not time. However, it does feel like it might be close to the time to write her story, as I see it.
I think it's time to make sure that people will Remember Dottye.
Don't you?
When I spoke to Allison Dubois the first time, we spoke for the most part about Dottye. I don't have my notes here in bed but I do recall something along the lines of Dottye looking for love, believing each man that to,d her "I love you".
There are days when I think I must be so much like her,or at least that I used to be so much like her. Lately I wonder though if maybe I am actually completely opposite from her.
Either way I don't think there is a thing that I could find out about her that would make me turn my back on her or speak unkindly of her. She struggled , that's a definite given. I believe we had a lot of the same sort of things happen in our lives. While she was looking for love, I was just looking to be rescued.
Love and rescue.
They kind of are the same really.
I will always keep my heart open for her. She is a part of my soul, and I will always feel the need to defend her. I think maybe because it feels like no one defended her enough while she was here.
My book sits in a box, I've yet to read it. I still feel like its not time. However, it does feel like it might be close to the time to write her story, as I see it.
I think it's time to make sure that people will Remember Dottye.
Don't you?
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
To have and to hold
Im one of the people who over the years have played the head game " If you could only grab a few things from your home, what would you grab?"
Growing up there were two stuffed animals. I would wish that I could take them all.....but two for sure. It would be those two stuffed animals and my baby blanket. I would even practice grabbing them in case of a fire. Currently, those two stuffed animals are together with my blanket, in my bedroom. I left them home that I grew up with, and they came with me.
As an adult I've played this game as well. Now I am speaking of material items, pretending that the humans and pets are outside waiting for me. What would I grab if I only had minutes?
I would cry, I would leave those stuffed puppies behind and blanket, in order to be able to grab my adoption files. There are several.
Before find
After find
Arizona
Birth father
Vegas
Mentions in other books
As well as my search scrap book.
My jewelry would be nice as well, maybe I'll think about wearing all of the sentimental items all of the time so I never have to worry about grabbing them.
Or maybe I just won't orry about it at all.
As I sat outside tonight looking at the stars and watching two planes fly over I had a wish that I imagine will not come true.
It's a comforting thought and a sad one all at the same time.
I wish I could find that hidden treasure chest.
You know the one right?
It's the one that holds the letter, the journal, the single item of jewelry even if it's costume, and an article of clothing. All in a treasure chest, or safety deposit box that is suddenly found.
The note says it is for me:
For my last born daughter, the daughter I never held but loved so much.
Xoxoxox your mom Dottye
That would have been so cool.
Growing up there were two stuffed animals. I would wish that I could take them all.....but two for sure. It would be those two stuffed animals and my baby blanket. I would even practice grabbing them in case of a fire. Currently, those two stuffed animals are together with my blanket, in my bedroom. I left them home that I grew up with, and they came with me.
As an adult I've played this game as well. Now I am speaking of material items, pretending that the humans and pets are outside waiting for me. What would I grab if I only had minutes?
I would cry, I would leave those stuffed puppies behind and blanket, in order to be able to grab my adoption files. There are several.
Before find
After find
Arizona
Birth father
Vegas
Mentions in other books
As well as my search scrap book.
My jewelry would be nice as well, maybe I'll think about wearing all of the sentimental items all of the time so I never have to worry about grabbing them.
Or maybe I just won't orry about it at all.
As I sat outside tonight looking at the stars and watching two planes fly over I had a wish that I imagine will not come true.
It's a comforting thought and a sad one all at the same time.
I wish I could find that hidden treasure chest.
You know the one right?
It's the one that holds the letter, the journal, the single item of jewelry even if it's costume, and an article of clothing. All in a treasure chest, or safety deposit box that is suddenly found.
The note says it is for me:
For my last born daughter, the daughter I never held but loved so much.
Xoxoxox your mom Dottye
That would have been so cool.
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