With my mother posting so much about "the fog" and what it did to her and our relationship from her side, I figured I should chime in from the adoptee angle.
First and foremost, I'm not sure I was ever totally fogged out. I didn't need to hold on to it for survival like my mother did. I think it was more like a revolving door. As a child, the more I heard I should "be grateful" and how my "birth mother", monster that she must be, was a drug addict and/or a prostitute who was lucky she had sense enough to let a proper couple raise her child, the more I would try to think like everyone else did. Surely there was something wrong with me if I missed this monster of a "birth mother". My childhood wasn't perfect, but it was less flawed than many of my peers had to put up with. Yes, surely being relinquished was the best thing for me, I would think....temporarily. Then I would see a woman that looked like me, or something would remind me, or there would be a birthday or a special occasion, and I would be reminded that dammit, I live alone on my own little island here. I don't know if I was too much of a critical thinker and couldn't buy everyone else's rhetoric, or if I was just a rebellious ass (or a combination of both). I just could never fully accept that adoption was the best thing for me. No way.
When I met my mother in Chicago for the first time, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. We had decided to meet in a crowded airport and see if we could find each other. The only picture I had seen of her was 20 years old and she had chosen not to see a picture of me. She wanted to get to know me on the inside before she looked at the outside. I guess I had an unfair advantage in knowing that I was looking for my twin. It was less than half a second before we found each other. When she held me there in the airport, it was surreal. I WAS HOME. HOME. HOME. I never wanted to let go. I felt guilty, I felt wonderful, I felt sick, I was beyond happy, I was terrified. HOME. Is this what home feels like? What if someone takes it away from me?
The next 3 days were both the best and hardest of my entire life. I was constantly reminded of what I had missed, constantly reminded that these few days of heaven were short-lived and I would have to go back to life as I knew it on the opposite side of the country. I wanted to touch her. The desire to hold her was almost overwhelming. More intense, though, was the desire to have HER reach out for ME. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted her to feel what I felt. Based on her actions, I was so sure she didn't. And what was I, some kind of a freak anyway? What kind of 35 year old woman wants to crawl in bed next to her mother and just do nothing but hold her for 3 days?
I have just realized that I am rambling again. This is difficult to talk about.
Anyway, the fallout for me from this experience - having her retreat back into the fog after we met and send those chatty, one-line emails, refuse to tell me she loved me, and refuse to really show any emotion at all - was to fall back into fear of trust and certainty of rejection. Those walls had started to break down after we spoke for the first time and spent 12 hours running up our phone bills. They started to build up in Chicago again because she wouldn't get close to me. And they got sky-high by the time my birthday rolled around that year. She finally started to break down a bit, but I couldn't trust her. I kept thinking, she relinquished you, she refused contact when you found her, and you expect/deserve WHAT exactly??
So over the past three years, I have been doing this crazy dance. I waltz back and forth from wanting her to be so fucking close to me I can't breathe to wanting to kick her out of my life or turn my back on her emotionally so she can see how it feels. I hate that I do this.
What I really want is for her to want to be close to me.
What I really want is not to have to chase her.
What I really want is for her to let go of the fog lies, to quit telling herself she doesn't deserve it, to have her just take the plunge and let me love her.
But she can't. I can't expect her to. She hurts too much, and I've contributed to that hurt over the years. Sometimes I kick her away because I want to prove to myself and people around me that I can survive without her. Heck, I don't need anyone that doesn't need me, right?
But I think we need each other.
I know I need her.
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5 comments:
Wow, beautiful and honest.
I have two comments that may be incendiary, so if they are and you get mad, by all means kick ME (delete me, do whatever you need to do) and maybe it will get some of that energy that needs out, out. OK? I never know with you two how I will fare. Will you take me at face value, or will I get the adoptive-mom-as-target-of-my-projections thing? Who knows? But since we all project regularly, I figure what the heck?
First, what the heck is wrong with your adoptive mother?! Telling you to be grateful? Painting your mother that way? Is she nuts? Or just self-centered? Unconscious as a human being? I suppose you've plumbed the depths of your anger toward her, right? So that none gets mis-directed to others who don't deserve it? (Speaking of deserving...). Just wondering. I really don't like what I read of your adoptive mother.
Second, if we had to pass some kind of a test to deserve something, your mom would have already passed, right? This is where you have to just leap out by faith, Fuzzy Rat mom. If you don't, you're in effect calling your daughter a liar. Then you're denying her reality of deep love and need for you. That's a moral wrong, not to mention kind of whack.
I will tell you that it is possible for you mother to change. Everyone can change and transcend the fogs of the illusions we've had to survive on. Without exception, everyone can do that if they have basic intelligence. I do not know of any psychiatrist or psychologist who would disagree with me. So the idea that your mother can't stop hurting long enough to love you back and let go of her illusions is itself an illusion, and that's part of the fog.
Now, that's my opinion based on what I've read here and based on a lot of other stuff too boring to go into. I think you two are more than able to do this relationship right and to be mother and daughter as you ought to be for the rest of your lives. As my grandma used to say, "Now put that in your pipe and smoke it."
Hugs from Eve
Yes are right, we do need each other. I LOVE YOU DOWN TO YOUR CUTE LITTLE PAINTED TOENAILS. It felt good to shout that. I am trying to break out of my shell. Major cracks are forming. You are my daughter and I love you like I love no one else.
I have to say that I've sent my son plenty of those "chatty" non-emotional emails because I am so scared to reveal my feelings in the event that he thinks, "ugh!". I think those emails take so long to write because it is not what I am feeling, but what I am thinking is acceptable. Maybe it should be a message to me when the superficial communications take so long to form, whereas the heartfelt words would just pour out if I let them. It is so confusing to know what to do, perhaps because I never developed my intuition because after losing my son I lost so much of my self, even trust in myself.
I really wish I knew what my son thinks, nevertheless, thank you for posting your thoughts!
Best,
Carol
Carol,
I could have written exactly what you said!
Reunited with son for 7 years.
dbannie
Oh my god, I relate to this post so much.
When reuniting with my mother, I have experienced the exact same feelings as you did. I am struggling to try and stay close to my mother who will not open up and stays in her fog.
God, I hope I can hang on.
You both are an inspiration to me and I am happy for both of you. At least some one is succeeding.
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