Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Brutal Truth

I found out some things about my bio-mom a couple weeks ago that rocked my world.  My first instinct after breaking down for an hour was to come here and spew all my thoughts, rage, emotional bile, and insanity. Somewhere in the upheaval the cool voice of reason talked me down. I've burned myself in the past when I've come here and shared everything that was going on in my head. Now I check myself. Those emotion fueled rants made for compelling reading, but they also tended to piss off family member who didn't understand where I was coming from or how loony PMDD can make me at times.

So here I am, having spent a considerable amount of time stewing over things and feeling like I have an even better and more unvarnished view of where she came from.  I understand now.  It hurts like hell, but I understand. I wasn't part of one of those story book dramas where the young girl was forced to give up a child she loved and wanted to keep, but for whatever reason, was not allowed to.

Nope. I wasn't wanted. Given the era, where she lived, the families involved...she had no choices. She was forced to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term, was sent quietly out of town to deliver, and then tried her best to just forget the whole mess and move on with life. I try to see myself in her shoes and it just horrifies me.

I am sympathetic. Really I am. But at the same time, I am glad abortion wasn't legal. I wouldn't be here. No dancing around the truth. I would simply not exist.

I wonder how my unique viewpoint would sit with her rabidly pro-choice daughter. How would her view of the world shift if she knew about me. Why her mother raised her with such liberal and feminist ideals. Yes, mom was a child of the 60s and a bit of a hippy, but she has NO IDEA how far down the rabbit hole really goes.

Well, little sis - you and I will never see eye to eye on the whole pro-life/pro-choice debate for obvious reasons. But it would be cool to argue with you. I have a feeling, however, that you and I will never get the chance. I think mom is afraid of what your reaction, in particular, will be to finding out about my existence. Little bro, on the other hand, would probably just take the info in stride. Sis and I are too much alike. Sensitive and deeply emotional with a tendency toward depression and an epic ability to take things too personally. Must be genetic.

Just know this, we have a lot more in common than mom thinks. Don't judge me just because I was raised by uber conservative Catholic Republicans. My personal viewpoints and politics may as well be from another planet when compared to my parental units. I am my own person. A "non-conformist" as my mother always calls me. Hey, Tarzan was raised by apes and he turned out ok. KWIM?

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Summer of 77

I have a basket of trinkets on my dresser in the bedroom under a stack of mismatched socks waiting for their sole mates to return to them. Heh. Is it wrong to chuckle at my own puns? I was digging for a match today and pulled out a braided yarn necklace I made when I was 13.  That put my mental way-back machine on overdrive.  Who taught me how to braid?  It certainly wasn't my mother.

It came to me in a flash...Pam Launder. Suddenly I was transported back to the summer of 1977. Pam's family bought one of the few contemporary split-level homes on my street. Her dad had been transferred by his work to the east coast from California. I remember being impressed by that fact. That and the fact that Pam was so much cooler than all the other kids on the street. She dressed like one of the beach kids from Sigmund and the Sea Monsters. She also wore thin braids, one on each side of her face, that she would sometimes decorate with a feather or beads on the ends. Just like a real California "hippy". Like my Dad always said...California was full of hippies and liberals. (Feel free to roll your eyes. I just did too.)

While most of the girl cliques on the street shunned Pam at first, I welcomed her. It was exciting to have someone new to hang out with and escape from the constant in-fighting and gossip from the other neighborhood girls. Pam was more like me. She was used to moving around a lot and having to make all new friends, start over in a new house and at a new school, and just get comfortable when you would be uprooted and have to do it all again.

Pam and I shared a love for music that none of the other girls did. I remember sitting in her room (or mine) and playing our Shaun Cassidy records over and over... He was soooo dreamy. I was jealous that she was allowed to hang up the free poster than came inside the album. I wasn't allowed to hang anything on my bedroom walls. Mother said it might damage the wallpaper. (Yes, I am rolling my eyes again.) But I did get away with hanging him (and later The Dukes of Hazzard) on the back of my bedroom door. 

Pam was the one who totally busted me for secretly kissing my poster of Shaun. I denied it! But she pointed out my lip prints on the glossy paper. She was also the one who taught me how to braid my hair. I tried her look a few times, but my dad picked on me and called me Pocahontas, so I gave it up.

I even remember having lunch at Pam's house one time. Her mom asked me if I liked tuna salad. I loved tuna! Or so I thought. Pam's mom used Miracle Whip and pickle relish in her version of tuna salad. Ick! Who does that?!  Everyone knows the proper way to make tuna salad is with Hellmans, diced green pepper and celery. Right? That's how MY mom made it. I remember running home and telling my mom all about the horrors of Mrs. Launder's tuna. I didn't realize until years and years later why that news seemed to make my mom really happy. Moms like it when their kids praise their cooking skills, FYI.

Then, after only a year or so, Pam's dad was transferred again and she was gone. We did the pen pal thing for a while, but lost touch as kids are prone to do at that age.

So! Pam Launder! If you remember spending a short time on Cot Hill Rd in Bedford MA in the late 70s, drop me a note. I enjoyed being your friend and remember you fondly. Plus I can give you credit for the long braid rat tail I sported in the late 80s. Amiee Mann gave me the hair-style idea, but I wouldn't have been able to pull it off without your braiding lessons.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Dusting off the Cobwebs

I figure I better write something (anything) before I forget how. These days, when ever I get the sudden urge to write here, the timing just doesn't work.

Right now I am watching Netflix battle with my internet connection and other computer users in the house. I am competing for bandwidth not only with my neighbors along the chain, but also with my own family. Every single last one of them is a bandwidth hog! Look at this:
Aren't they cute?! The boys each have
their own computer, side by side. Here they are playing ToonTown together. I get mixed emotions watching this scene. Pride, a little teary, relief that they aren't fighting, giddy with a touch of depression that they are both growing up so fast. It makes me dizzy!

Tonight I have one boy watching Thomas the Train on Netflix, the other playing some new online game, the hubby running multiple sessions of Second Life and me...waiting not so patiently for my Netflix movie selection to rebuffer because my "internet connection has slowed". *sigh*  So, yes, add in a touch of frustration to my emotional mix. Get off my net, you resource hogs! I love you, but can't you all just go play on the Wii or something? Ha ha!

But seriously, I am proud of my boys and their growing computer skills and ability to cooperate.  Plus, my movie is back on. Yay!  Back to watching "Cashback". The only thing saving this movie from being boring is the British accents. Funny how a nice accent can spice things up a bit.