I’ve been searching for a solution- groping in the dark for some sort of resolution in all this bullshit. Even after I “gave up” officially- the fight never stopped in my own mind- in my own life. I never stopped caring or longing or wishing or regretting. I’ve never stopped bouncing the ideas around in my mind- what could I have done? What should I have done? What did I do to make this all go awry?
I am just sad now. Sad and angry. I couldn’t tell you what the percentages of those emotions would be. Perhaps…80% despondent and 20% irate? Who knows? I certainly couldn’t put a number on it- but God knows I’d like to.
I want to pack adoption up neatly. I want it to be some event in my past. I no longer want to “be adopted”- I want to “have been adopted.” I don’t want it to define me anymore, in any sense of the word. Not that it ever has, of course. Not for other people. My parents do not see me as their adopted daughter. My friends do not see me as their adopted friend. I am not an adopted sister to my brother, not really. Though technically, I’ll always have that label, it does not define who I am to anyone else but myself. My grandparents do not see me and say “ ah yes, Amanda. Our adopted granddaughter.” Only I place this label onto myself. I’m the one who can’t shake it.
I hate the feelings I’ve developed for the people who brought me into this world. They make me feel so skeevy. I hate being angry, and I hate hating. I will never love my sister. Not ever. I can’t…imagine it. I can’t fathom looking into her eyes and liking what I see. She does not care for me. She has rejected me- and that’s not something I can just shake off. I don’t care if she’s troubled/has had a bad life/is sad/is angry. I don’t care that she rejected me because she has learned to reject other people before they can reject her. I don’t care what the reason is. This is my goddamn blog, and although no one reads it (thank god!) I promised that I’d be nothing but honest about my own inner workings while writing. And even though I know saying this pretty much buys me a one-way ticket to hell- I despise that girl. More than I’ve ever despised anyone- and I’ve met some pretty crummy people. This hatred, this intense dislike that is brewing in my brain, does no one any good. It doesn’t make me feel any better. It only embarrasses me- I am ashamed that the Amanda who felt empathy has left- never to return. I am ashamed because I wanted it so desperately- and my weakness has been taken advantage of by someone who can smell it from a mile away. I am sad because I want to love her. So badly. I am ashamed because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to agan.
And so I’m left grappling. What do I do? I stopped contacting them for a reason- and I never want to forget that. I didn’t one day decide to remove them from my life on a whim. I didn’t make that decision in a hurry. I thought about it, agonized about it even, and when the time came to make that phone call I thought I my heart would fall out of my chest. I’ve never had a “cry” feel that good. To hang up the phone- and realize that I had made a decision for myself- was absolutely intoxicating. To cry so thoroughly and loudly- to really grieve, was so freeing. To let that sadness just pour out of me was so cleansing- so amazing. But then of course, after the water works finished- I was left wondering, “what’s next?”
I am hoping, praying even, that the next few months will give me clarity and maturity. I am hoping that something will change. A lot of things are going to change in the next few months for me. I hope that my intense feelings, that are predominantly negative, will evaporate into the air around me. I want to be clearheaded- and make decisions based on logic rather than emotion. Irrationality annoys the shit out of me. I’ve become my own pet peeve.
