I think Pink Floyd might have been thinking of birth parents when they wrote "Comfortably Numb." Yea, probably not but they sure describe my experience well. Although as the title of this post suggests, I am not comfortable being numb. For almost eleven years now I have moved through so many unsettling emotions that rise to the surface then go back down somewhere deep in my body, or soul, or whatever. All I know is that they are unresolved. These emotions are stagnant so in a way I am living in a muddled pool of putrid water. That sounds terrible, but it is the truth! I have come to the realization that I have been reliving the same experiences again and again. Now it has come to a point where I am intolerant of the emotions, which means I move through life as an anger-bomb. At any moment I could explode and spew anger any which way. These trapped emotions are intolerable.
I have recently started a support group for local birth mothers because I find the lack of resources available to us abhorable. This is a big step that I have been thinking for sometime. I just hope that the members do not expect me to be a pillar of emotional stability. I'm simply providing the comfortable place for us to meet and organizing the meetups. From what I have read, community is an integral part of healing. 12-step programs are, in my opinion, so popular because they provide connection with other people who know what you're going through. It's been easier just to gloss over my pain because trying to get someone who hasn't experienced it is really hard. Of course people are well meaning, but I often just feel more alone after I talk about my hurt with someone who is not a birth parent.
Although I am petrified to feel, I am ready to. I need to. I must process these emotions. There is no way I can continue living my life like the bull in the china shop... bumping into and often rupturing unsuspecting friends. I am unable to have healthy attachments as I am so easily rattled. This has to stop. It must.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
My new life...
Well, I sure haven't written in what seems like forever... real time? I guess it has been almost nine months. I got disheartened by the process and forgot why I was writing. Also, my son was born in June and it has been a very busy endeavor being his mama while keeping up with my graduate program.
So I think I should admit that I believed mothering my son would fix the pain I feel around the adoption. That was not a productive belief and what a let down that expectation was. I am certainly not fixed. I am still the imperfect person trying to manage my life as best as I know how to. My patterns have not changed much and this "new life" feels pretty similar to the old life. Wait, there is a HUGE exception. My son is such a delight. There is this little man who coaxes smiles out of me the way no other person can. I really cannot stop myself from smiling at him. We delight each other.
That is the bright side. Yes, there is a shadow side. The stress of being his nearly sole caregiver weathers on me. And I cannot deny that I feel the loss of my daughter regularly because I am triggered daily. I am really embarrassed to admit that. Shouldn't I feel fulfilled being a mother? The selfless act of being a mother is supposed to be enough to heal me, right?
I guess Betty Friedan might have been one of the first women to publicly admit that mothering is not the sole desire of every woman and that the act itself is not enough to satiate the personal desires of womankind. Yet, I had the expectation for myself that it would be enough. I consider myself a staunch feminist, but I thought that the pain associated with my adoption experience outweighed any ideology that I am inclined towards. So I unconsciously believed that my son would heal that particular pain. The unexplained depression, lethargy, sensitivity, attachment problems, and codependency would disappear. Okay, I see how this was an unrealistic expectation.
My son is such a joy and I love attending to his needs, but the stress of being a new parent is much harder than I expected. I imagined that I would be talented at handling the stress. I am not, especially as the same problems that existed for me before his birth are still there.
So I think I should admit that I believed mothering my son would fix the pain I feel around the adoption. That was not a productive belief and what a let down that expectation was. I am certainly not fixed. I am still the imperfect person trying to manage my life as best as I know how to. My patterns have not changed much and this "new life" feels pretty similar to the old life. Wait, there is a HUGE exception. My son is such a delight. There is this little man who coaxes smiles out of me the way no other person can. I really cannot stop myself from smiling at him. We delight each other.
That is the bright side. Yes, there is a shadow side. The stress of being his nearly sole caregiver weathers on me. And I cannot deny that I feel the loss of my daughter regularly because I am triggered daily. I am really embarrassed to admit that. Shouldn't I feel fulfilled being a mother? The selfless act of being a mother is supposed to be enough to heal me, right?
I guess Betty Friedan might have been one of the first women to publicly admit that mothering is not the sole desire of every woman and that the act itself is not enough to satiate the personal desires of womankind. Yet, I had the expectation for myself that it would be enough. I consider myself a staunch feminist, but I thought that the pain associated with my adoption experience outweighed any ideology that I am inclined towards. So I unconsciously believed that my son would heal that particular pain. The unexplained depression, lethargy, sensitivity, attachment problems, and codependency would disappear. Okay, I see how this was an unrealistic expectation.
My son is such a joy and I love attending to his needs, but the stress of being a new parent is much harder than I expected. I imagined that I would be talented at handling the stress. I am not, especially as the same problems that existed for me before his birth are still there.
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