The Power of Words

January 28, 2010, 8:34 pm
Filed under: Adoption | Tags: , , , , ,

Am I ignorant?  Ignorance is when you speak on a subject that you know nothing of.  I know nothing of my parents, yet I speak about adoption and them.  When someone says that my mother was a ho, I tell them that their facts are based with prejudices and that their premise involves misinformation.

But what if I’m the one living on misinformation.  What if I’m the ignorant one.

I’m biased, of course, but how is that my fault?  It is instinctual to wonder what your parents must be like.  I was never taught to wonder.  When I was 4, before I was told I was adopted, I knew.  Of course, I was a precocious child and knew that it was biologically impossible for my parents to be my parents.  I mean, I was 4 and they were 48…  Sure, it’s *possible* but it’s not *plausible*  Not to mention the fact that I’m blonde and have blue eyes with a pale complexion and everyone else is the polar opposite.

But, wouldn’t others be biased.  Think of the negative shadow cast on biological mothers.  Especially in today’s society.  You think: young, pregnant teen… slut.  But, that isn’t always the case.  One of my friends was pregnant, she got an abortion, but she is by no means a slut.  Her boyfriend promised her love, and acting on a warped rationality she decided to go ahead with the acts.  She is an honors student, in the band, and in student council.

I guess ignorance is in all statements… just as truth is in every lie.


You haven’t won, you’ve only temporarily stunned me.
January 27, 2010, 8:36 pm
Filed under: Bullying | Tags: , ,

You think that you’ve won this game,

Your words have destroyed it all.

You think I’m weak,

But I won’t fall.

You try to hurt me,

And think you’ve won.

But the trouble is,

I’ve only just begun.

You aren’t the only deviant,

I’ve got a mind of my own.

But I haven’t let down,

My strength has yet to be shown.

So try to hurt me,

call me whatever.

You’ll never see me,

Thinking you’re better.

You aren’t that great,

You actually are quite annoying.

I don’t think you’ve noticed,

I don’t care what you’re saying.

I’ll be back,

You’ll see.

In a few years,

You’ll be working for me.

mi-graine: pain in one side of the side
January 26, 2010, 7:57 pm
Filed under: Adoption, Bullying, Life | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Now, why on earth did I choose migraine today?  No, I don’t have one today…  But migraines tend to last for a long time with me, between two and three days so to me a migraine is a long lasting pain. 

It’s surprising at what words mark you.  It’s not always obvious.  Today during class, one girl told me my mom was a ho.  I was appalled.  How can she say that?!?  Where was the premise to base her prejudgment?  I can’t even say that because I don’t know her, and she’s my mother.  Even if it were true, I’d never say that.  So, enlighten me: why can a random girl just say “You’re mom’s a ho to me?”

No reason, eh?

Those words really marked me… because it’s been hours since they were said.  Maybe I’m just overanalyzing…

But, WHY?!?

The girl who said those words to me was in no way, shape, or form to make judgments.  I could just as easily responded with something as shocking… maybe the fact that she wears a cloak to school… or the fact she’s obsessed with things that don’t exist…  But no.

And, what’s with the stereotype?  Can’t surrendering mothers be doctors, lawyers, soccer moms?  Why ho’s?  I wish the public would just listen, or maybe learn a thing or two.  As a society, we are too quick to judge, mock, and ridicule.  What about those who wear different colored converse, or the girls who don’t wear Aberzombie and Hollister?  What about the girl in the hippie headband and zebra sweater.  Is she overlooked and labeled weird for originality.

Stereotypes cause pain.

Pain is bad.

Therefore, no more stereotypes.

veri-si-mil-i-tude: the quality or state of appearing to be real.
January 25, 2010, 8:34 pm
Filed under: Adoption, Bullying | Tags: , , , , ,

In this world, things aren’t always what they seem to be.  Some things are fake, just as some people are fake.  When people you were supposed to love turn out to not be real, your whole view of love changes.  This year, I met a boy who I really liked.  Yes, I know, I’m only 14, but I’m not your average 14 year old and this isn’t your average high school drama.  I deal with real things, in the real world.  I don’t cry if daddy doesn’t buy me that expensive purse: I don’t cry at all.

So, this boy, was extremely charming.  He had this wooing charisma about him.  I thought he was different, he was the first I trusted in a long time.  He sent me texts saying I was beautiful, hot, even the most amazing girl he’d ever met.  I felt loved, precious, and as if I didn’t even deserve him.  He treated me like royalty.

We never actually dated but our relationship ended bluntly.  One day he just said “Really, you believed that?!?” And began laughing.  He pushed me into a wall on a few occasions and physically hurt me a couple times.  And the verbal abuse was just so much.  I was emotionally exhausted at the end of the day and dreaded returning to school.  On some occasions I’d fake sick, just so I wouldn’t have to see him.

He was a fake.  He lied.  I trusted him. 

I don’t know if I can ever trust someone again.  He really hurt me.

So, recently this guy has been apoligizing to me for being a “dick” as he calls himself (I still think he is) and I can just see right through his hopeless attempt at redemption.  He tried adding me as a friend on Facebook after I deleted him.  I blocked him.  🙂

I’ve often had friend who were like this boy.  They lure you in, then stab you in the back until you bleed to the point where you’ve lost so much blood that you honestly just wish that you could end it all right then and there.  I’ve been there.  I’ve cut, I’ve attempted suicide.  I didn’t want to live.

Why would I want to live a life of oppression?  I had no where to turn, and no one to trust.  If you’ve ever been there then you know exactly what I mean.

I just cannot stand when people are ambidextrous with trust.  You shouldn’t play with trust.  It’s a game that is easy to lose and difficult to regain.

Long story short:  I don’t trust.

de⋅ni⋅al: disbelief in the existence or reality of a thing
January 24, 2010, 12:52 am
Filed under: Adoption, Life | Tags: , , , , , ,

Some people just refuse to believe in the pain surrounding adoption.  It’s like trying to explain to a child that their parents are divorcing out of love, it just doesn’t make sense to them.  Of course that is a bad metaphor as parents divorcing is rarely a result of love, more of hate as I have learned.

You see, it isn’t the denial that is infuriating, because there are skeptics everywhere.  The true pain in this is that those people dismiss our pain as if it’s just a story we are making up.

I find adoption and its stages of grieving no different than death.  With death, at least you know that the person is gone.  As John Walsh always says on America’s Most Wanted, not knowing is the hardest part.  I’ve begun the stages of grieving, I’ve passed denial, and anger, and possibly a few more.  But unlike death, I will never “accept” this fact because adoption is something that I will never condone.  Why should I accept this?

The thing about adoption is… it’s permanent.

3 and 1/2 years…

psychic: a person apparently sensitive to the nonphysical forces

I don’t know her.  I don’t know what’s going on in her life, where she is, or what she looks like.  But, in a way, I do.  Heck, we were attached for 9 months and right now, I can sense her.  But, not in the psychic way.  I cannot explain this feeling.  It’s like I’m with her, and she’s with me but we know nothing of each other.  I feel as if when I’m walking on a busy street and she’s one of the faces I pass.

But, I want her to be more than a face I pass, I want her with me.  I want her to wipe my tears, and tell me it’ll be okay.  I’d like to go to family get togethers and be with people who look like me. 

I want her.

I need her.

My true question is why must I wait until I’m 18 to find her.  She’s my mother isn’t she.  Just because I wasn’t raised by her doesn’t mean I can’t even know her name.  I may be 14 but I’m more mature than some adults I know.  I wish people could see past that. 

Last week I felt it: a sibling.  I don’t know, if it is true, but I can feel that I am not alone anymore.  I may not be the kept child but I’m still hers.

And I’ll always be.

against: in opposition to; directly opposite from

I don’t know much about how I came to this world, but I do know that I was born one week late.  It was as if I knew I’d be gone from her, and I just wasn’t willing to accept it.  I didn’t want to leave, but who would.  And if she knew what was going to happen to me, I’m sure she would have maybe been more reluctant. 

My life has been far from easy.  Of course, I don’t particularly enjoy posting my life story on the internet, I don’t mind the use of metaphors.  My life has been like walking into a door, then halfway into the next room, the door violently slams in my face but there’s no turning back: I have to get through that door.

I often wonder if she misses me.  Would she care to know that I earned an A on my AP midterm?  Or maybe that I was bullied throughout middle school, and now, through highschool.

What about him?  Does he think of me?  Does he wonder if I’m alright, if I have a bed to sleep in at night?  I wonder about my grandparents.  Am I their little secret?  Have I been well hidden?

I’m against this struggle.  I never chose this path; it was predetermined.  When I say predetermined I always go on a little tangent in my head, two sides debating whether or not there is a God.  But, why would God separate two people who were so close?  I was inside of her, don’t tell me she’s moved on!  I haven’t.

Mom: I miss you.