Monday, November 23, 2009

Write it out

Stories are living and dynamic. Stories exist to be exchanged. They are the currency of Human Growth.-Jean Houston

There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you.-Z.N. Hurston

I began writing this blog last year just because I needed a place to write my thoughts down. The ever swirling thoughts that come in and never really have an outlet or a place to drain. It's not that I want to be consumed by the details of this world, interactions with people and the random occurrences I happen to notice, but I do, and until my fingers begin to type away and the words seep out of them, it hardens in my shoulders and in my brain and causes headaches, anxiety, stress. It's been a therapeutic way for me to organize my thoughts and feel like I've put some order to a chaotic storm of noise that I've been carrying in my head. I carry the thoughts around partially because I know that its a growing process to think these things and makes sense of it, maybe to look back and learn about myself or others thought each of my blogs. To look back on them to see what prayer requests have been answered, what character flaws have been corrected, and what mentality has been altered throughout the years. Or not just to correct myself, but to remind me, like Ghost of Christmas past that I've once thought good things and learned good lessons and I will need to hear them from myself in the future. But once it's down on "paper", I'm free to part from them.

Sometimes I want to be completely thoughtless and live life without a care in the world, filing out all the unimportant or toxic things that enter my consciousness and live in the moment of smile, hearts, puppies and rainbows, but that's not always the best. Not only is writing something of an outlet for me, I also believe, somethings should be said, to point out love, pain, and even injustice, and not that this blog is featured in the Wired Magazine or Christianity Today, but in the sea of gibberish, it's one that will stand against the grain of the message "Live for yourself". Even though I began writing so that I had a release from my thought and feelings, and never thought anyone was reading my blog entries, there were some days when I receive a comment saying someone needed the words I've posted, or that it touched them in a certain way. So, if it serves me, but it serves others, I think I will keep writing, no matter who looks at them or who doesn't look at them.

I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and share not just my triumphs, not just the things that felt good, but the pain, the intense, often unmitigated pain. It is important to share how I know survival is survival and not just a walk through the rain. -Audre Lorde

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Grieving process...

Let me explain to you one thing, just this one time and for the last time how much adoption means to me. Coming to the decision to adopt is not a consolation prize, it's not an alternative to not being able to have your "REAL" baby, and I wasn't pigeon holed into the decision. It's a real choice, a conviction, a calling, an identity and when you decide to adopt, you are already pregnant and full of emotion for this baby that is to come. You dream about her, you think about her, you feel her in your arms. The paper work, the interviews, the bills, the home study? it's all the same as your nausea, your food aversions, your growing belly! My belly was already growing with expectation and dreams about this person being assigned to me by God himself. When you decide to adopt, it's not about you wanting to be a mom, but you really becoming the vehicle of love that God has given to you, he is the one that swells your heart and your soul with this overflowing and overwhelming love that is not your own. It was a long road to this point of taking the plunge into the pool of adoption. You kind of walk about, anticipating, you're beckoned into the pool, but thoughts of the frigid water, the breath that will be robbed from you for a time and the wetness you will have to dry off from come flooding into your mind. Then you do. After long years of waiting, preparing, wrestling, toiling, you coming to this point of jumping in, you're in midair, and then, the water is drained from the pool before you can plunge into it. So when I tell you that this pregnancy causes a termination of my adoption papers, and you give me a sideways smile and a shrug, it makes me want to climb out of my skin.

Stop looking at me like I am ungrateful and telling me to repent. Stop looking at me like I'm crazy for not wanting this pregnancy, with mutters of "surely you would want this natural child rather than an adopted child!" Please don't tell me to get over it, because I wouldn't tell you "get over your miscarriage, you didn't know that baby that long anyway, it was just a flicker." Life is a life is a life, and when you lose it, you don't tell mothers, daughters, sons or husbands to get over anything without mourning it. Am I crazy? Really? My brother says, "I know how you feel when everyone thinks your crazy but you think everyone else is crazy and then you're like where am I, in Bizarro world?" This is exactly it. I don't understand how an overwhelming amount of people are telling me I'm being ungrateful and irrational when they don't even get it, when they haven't gone through it or haven't even put an ounce of empathy or thought into "what must cause her to feel this way?" Is this consistent with my character to be ungrateful and pouting? Throwing blessings back into the face of God himself? Is this my pattern and I haven't seen it myself?

I really tried to be gracious and understanding that no one could know how I feel. It's just not conventional and not everyone goes through this. I get that, and I don't expect people to understand, but when my friend is crying over a dead DOG that they had for years, I don't say to them, "it's just a dog, get over it," just because I don't get it! I obviously don't! The tens of thousands of dog owners all over nation who mourn over their dead dogs can't all be crazy right? They obviously have a deep emotional bond with their dog that can only be established by feeding, training, walking and co-sleeping with that dog for over 15 years. I can never know! In the same way, the pruning you go through, the relinquishing, the swelling, the long arduous walk you walk to find your place at adoption cannot be understood without going through it. I tell you and I'm honest with you, being completely transparent because I want to share my life, my thoughts, my soul with you. You don't have to fix me or understand me, but do NOT tell me that the way I am feeling is not valid.

In hind sight, I may see what God was doing, maybe, I'll never know and I don't have to. I'm pregnant and I will love this child no matter what, because after all, it's my baby. But for now I will mourn, I will be gloomy because I don't understand God at all, but I will trust him even though I don't like it.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Little Shop of Horrors

Our Condo Board thought it delightful to deck our halls with fake plants that cost 168 dollars each. The first day I saw one, I was coming out of our elevator and thought I was on the wrong floor because there was a short potted plant that stood about waist high as I was about to walked out. I even paused, still standing inside of the elevator with the door starting to close. I was a little bit surprised because I thought it was a short man standing there. The next few days, I kept thinking that there was a neighbor standing there, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

Soon, I did grow accustomed to the plant that appeared as the elevators opened to the third floor and remembered from that day forward, that it was indeed a potted plant, and nothing to be surprised over. Just when I thought I was allowing this little plant to be a part of the scenery as I made my daily walk down to the elevator, I literally jumped while making a turn around a corner before the elevator doors, and there in the dark corner of our halls was another 168 dollar fake plant. I was startled again thinking a strange short man was lurking in the shadows. I continued to think this for the next 5 days and grew increasingly angry every time I was startled. One day, I look down the hall, bracing myself for the lurking plants, I see that they had installed another, but I had made a decision to be aware of them and not forget they were there. Until one day, the plant that originally startled me on the first day, was replaced with a tall one. Is someone playing a trick on me? Or is this plant gradually making it's growth by devouring unsuspecting condo owners and reproducing children and spreading its seed on our floor?

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Something I noticed today

I had no idea that so many people still carry around their check books to pay for things. I stood in line for almost 15 minutes because three very contemporary looking women decided to pay for their clothes with checks. It was weird to see them writing down the date, the place of purchase and the amount and subtract it from the balance above that line. It was like watching the printing press where they aliened all the words in steel and essentially stamped out their daily newspapers.