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hey guys, here's a little something. read it, share your thoughts, whatever-i just want to see what you think!
so as you may have already read, my mom died while giving birth to me, and my dad i hope is still alive. here is my latest journal entry. i've been listening to "Wishing You were Somehow Here Again" (from the phantom of the opera with emmy rossum singing) for the past 2 hours. i just finished the journal entry a minute ago. doesn't make much sense grammatically, but who gives a **** cuz it's super early right now! (3:35am, ug)
thought i'd share it, don't know why, probably will regret it later....
How is one supposed to grieve the loss of their mother? Who was separated from them at birth, who never got a chance to say I love you, with the child remembering. How does one go through life without feeling her touch? Hear her voice. See her face. How do they face each day, looking in the mirror, wondering what she looked like? Wishing they had grown up with her standing behind them, brushing their hair, showing them how to do their makeup. Wishing their mom shared their laugh. Shared their love for shopping, their same personality ( less than 1% of the population has same personality as me…kinda lonely), their same love for animals, their same love for books, imagination, rose petals.
How does one grow, from a young child, to an “adult”, without but a fantasy of their mother? How do you, as a child, sit in school, hoping she will suddenly appear, interrupt the instructor, point at you, and say, “that’s my daughter. I’ve come to take her home.” How do you, as a teenager, cry silently every night, for the mother who would understand your anguish.Who would stand by you, assure you as you stare at your pimply face, that this is just a phase, that your face will look like theirs soon. How do you, as a teenager, see not a single soul that looks remotely like you. How do you not feel so utterly alone? How do you, as a young adult, attempt to focus on your college studies, as you gaze out the window, wishing to see her face.
How do you celebrate yet another birthday, another Christmas, another day the sun rises, wondering if your family is out there somewhere. How do you rise in the morning, hoping your father is still alive. How do you survive yet another sleepless night, scared that if you fall asleep, this day might have been his last, and you have not found him. How do you look at families who obviously are biologically related, and not feel robbed of your deepest and most heart wrenching desire-to grow and love and live with your own family.
How do you cope? How do you possibly cope and function for 20 years with these thoughts? These desires? These emotionally exhausting days, months, years-a whole life? How would a non-adoptee even attempt to fathom how it is to live on borrowed existence? To silently cry and scream for your mom? To wish everyday for your dad? To hear the phrase “now that we adopted you, our family is complete” yet to silently add, “but don’t you know if you take one person to complete one family, another family was ripped apart”. To hear the phrase “we love you as our daughter” but silently sob “I love you but I just want my real mom”?. To live a life silenced. To hear someone compliment a friend on how they look just like their mother, and know you will never hear those words. To look at a “family” picture, and immediately see you, the only one without the same eyes, smile, skin color.
it ends abruptly, but i just let it all out, with no corrections, adjustments. and i think it's a good one.
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