A Xanax on my Birthday.

I recently turned the big 3-0 and though I promised I wouldn't, I found myself, with a Xanax in hand, waiting for that phone call. Keeping in tune with the previous 13 birthdays, my phone didn't ring. Well, it rang a lot, but it was never the man I was expecting, the man I had been desperately waiting for since I first learned his name 13 years ago.

He is not an ex-husband or boyfriend, in fact, he is someone I have never known, but someone I desperately needed to acknowledge me. He is my birth father.

Desperately, it's such a pathetic word. For me, using it implies that you are willing to sacrifice all of yourself for another person and that is just not okay. Ever.


Despite my deep hatred of desperation, I found myself right there in it's poorly decorated living room again on December 10. "Why doesn't he want to talk to me?" Why does he hate me?" "What is wrong with me?" Rarely, these questions sneak their way into my daily thoughts...30 years has given me plenty of time and life experience to logically answer them... but without fail, every December 10th, I loose all ability to think like the well adjusted, grown ass woman I am.

I have a wonderful life. A beautiful, smart, 9 year old daughter; a hard working, loving, "underwear model handsome"(his words) husband, the best parents, and a group of family and friends that are more fantastic than any one person deserves.... but, because of him, I have an dark spot in my heart that I doubt even his  validation could illuminate.

 

See what I mean?! I'm a lucky lady.

In April of 1983 my real (they did all the real parenting) parents adopted me, I was 4 months old. My birth parents were young and I was told that they wanted me to have a better life than they were able to provide for me, a noble reason.

A young teen really doesn't understand noble reasoning, so I spent a lot of angry years feeling unwanted by the two people who were supposed to love me, all the while, treating the two people who actually loved me pretty badly... Don't worry, I have since apologized, profusely, to my parents.

Fast forward to March 2001...a few months past my 18th birthday. I have a letter in my hand containing all of my "identifying information," for those of you unfamiliar with adoption lingo, full names of both my birth parents, last known addresses and my original birth certificate.

This part is really important...according to the adoption agency, in order for me to get this information both of my birth parents had to sign a document giving their permission for their personal information to be released to me upon turning 18...they BOTH signed one.

Thanks to the internet it was relatively easy to find my birth father, he's a used car salesman in Florida, now that I am writing this I see.. that should have been my first warning...

Being a pretty outgoing person, who truly believes that people are generally kind and good, I called him. BAD idea. (Adoptees, I strongly advise using email for such communications.) At first he was kind, he sounded shocked to be hearing from me but was willing to hear me out.  **Remember he signed a release, so he know there was a potential that I may contact him someday.

I was very clear with him...I didn't want money, possessions or a place to vacation. I didn't expect to be welcomed into the family, I had a wonderful father, mother and family already. I was simply asking to exchange photos and hoped that he would be willing to consider meeting me at some point. He immediately said yes, but "that he would like to discuss it with his wife and call me back."He also told me that he had 3 young children, 2 girls and a boy.

He called back within a few days but this time he was mean, like mean enough to produce ginger babies, mean.(I'm a ginger, I can say that.)  This is how the conversation unfolded. I will refer to him as "T," for "tool."

Me: "Hello."

T: "Hello, this is T. I am calling to tell you that I do not believe that I am your biological father, you're birth mother was a whore."(yes, he said exactly that)

Me(interrupting): "Excuse me? If you never believed that I was your biological child why did you sign a birth certificate? WAIT and then you still signed legal documents giving up YOUR rights to a child you didn't even believe to be yours? WHO DOES THAT? If it is true then my adoption isn't even legal because I wasn't yours to give away!"

I have a flair for the dramatic, at this point I was an adult so it wouldn't have mattered anyway..but like I said, dramatic.

T: "At the time it was the easiest way to get rid of the problem."(yes, he said that too)

I believe it was at this point that I hung up, I honestly don't remember much after that. There were three or four hage (rage + hate, I made it up, feel free to take it viral) fueled phone calls that followed. I remember calling him back and offering to pay for a paternity test, I remember him considering it and ultimately refusing because "his wife didn't know her biological father and she didn't feel I needed to know mine." I don't remember if he also expressed agreeing with his wife of if he just placed the blame squarely on her shoulders, either way, it is arguably the worst "reason" in the world...for anything. 

I was devastated, angry, sad; I was a walking tornado of every negative emotion a person could feel for a LONG time. It didn't matter that I had two parents who loved me more than life or that I had so many great friends and extended family that loved and accepted me. It didn't even matter that, at this point, I had met my birth mother and her(my) family and had grown very close to them all; I needed this man's approval and I was never going to get it, I hated myself for being a part of him....some days I still do.

We have not spoken since 2003, though I did try to contact him after my daughter was born, I was ignored. My birth mom insists he is my birth father and I believe her.

Over time, with the love and support of my family, most of my rage and anger subsided but the sadness remains. The sadness, along with hope, has made a cozy little home in that dark part of my heart.

  The hope that someday he will see that I am worth getting to know, the hope that someday I will meet my half siblings, the hope that someday I will finally have all the pieces to the puzzle that is me.

Until that someday arrives, if it ever does, I will spend every December 10th in desperation's hideous living room, awaiting his call....either way, I'll still have that Xanax. ;)

An Open Letter to Humanity

Dear Humanity,

Roger Ebert and Morgan Freeman believe that if the news stops reporting on them in such a grandiose way, large scale shootings like Columbine and Sandy Hook wouldn’t continue to happen. Republicans want to arm everyone from Great grandma, all the way down to wee baby Seamus. Democrats believe that getting rid of all of the guns is the solution to ending the majority violent crime. What if the way we behave as individuals is the key to preventing these tragic events?

After tragedies like Sandy Hook several things happen. First, we look to mental health professionals and religious leaders to explain the “why.” Secondly, we demand swift gun reform (whether it is for more or less stringent laws) from our politicians. Third, we quickly place blame for the killer’s obvious mental instabilities on the parents, TV and video games, the internet, or a combination of the three. Lastly, we spend a few weeks giving our kids extra kisses, we tell people we love them more often than we did before and then, after the news coverage dies down, we revert to our “normal” patterns of behavior until the next horrible event dominates our TV or computer screen. Nothing we have done thus far, has prevented another massacre. So, what is the ultimate solution to curtailing the rise in mass killings? Is there a solution? 

“We should ALL have guns” or “NOBODY should have guns!” Sure, we could all have guns and it would work to prevent large scale shootings but it isn’t illogical to assume, that as long as weapons are legal and fairly easily accessed, there will always be people willing to use them for senseless crimes. We could outlaw firearms, but it is really ignorant to assume that, because guns are illegal, people will no longer have access to or use them.(We all know how well that worked out for alcohol.)

“We could censor TV and the internet!” Let me tell you why that won’t work…When I was 9 my parents wouldn’t let me watch Dirty Dancing. Can you guess what 9 year old me did the next time my parents left the house? I asked the babysitter if we could watch Dirty Dancing and she kindly obliged, not knowing my parents didn’t want me exposed to something they deemed to lewd for my little 9 year old eyes. Could they have made it more difficult for me to have access to it? Yes, but let’s be realistic, not everyone feels Dirty Dancing is inappropriate for a 9 year old, I would have seen it somewhere. Also, everyone has their own opinions of what is and is not appropriate. It is impossible to keep our children in a bubble, they ARE going to see and hear things we don’t want them to. Would you rather they see it with you so you can offer your explanation/opinions of the act or behavior or do you want them watching it with the 17 year old baby sitter and their explanations/opinions?

“We could make all the people who want to raise a child take IQ and psychiatric exams before they are allowed to take a baby/child home!” I really shouldn’t have to explain to anyone why that won’t fly. So, that leaves us with the lesser publicized solution and the one I put my support behind....THE GOLDEN RULE!

“We should treat others as we would like to be treated and teach our children to do the same!”  In a time where the majority has their face buried in a smart phone or tablet 24/7, most people don't realize how much their own behavior influences the behavior of those around them or how much their own behavior is influenced by the words and actions of others. How many of you have thought “The next time _____ happens, I’m going to go crazy.”? Most of you have, myself included, and I will bet my ginger soul that every single one of these killers had the same thought right before some kid threw a slushy in his/her face or some guy cut him off on the highway. Let’s face it, some people are just bat shit insane and will literally “go crazy” when_____blank happens. There is no explanation for why they want to wear their girlfriend’s skin or kill helpless children, instead of drinking or medicating their problems away like “normal” people. There is much to speculate, so what DO we know?

We do know that being nice IS nice, and that it will generally improve a person’s mood to be on the giving or the receiving side of a good deed. To my knowledge, nobody has ever given “someone held a door for me,” “he told me to have a nice day,” “she helped me put groceries into my car” or being on the receiving end of  any good deed as an excuse for killing somebody. Unfortunately, most offenders kill themselves without giving us a reason for the atrocious acts they committed. Maybe it's because they are cowards unwilling to face the justice system, or maybe it’s because they know there is no acceptable reason they could give for taking an innocent persons life, maybe they are just 'insane in the membrane" and have no motive.. Whatever the reason, I am NOT suggesting that the victims of any violent crimes, especially the kids in Sandy Hook, were mean people or did anything to bring this devastation upon themselves. I simply believe that if everyone made an effort to treat strangers with kindness, like a potential friend, instead of  treating them with contempt, like someone looking to get in our way, it will have a much more profound and positive effect on violent crime than any gun law, censorship or plastic bubble ever will.

Sincerely,
A Dreamer, hopefully not the only one.