I have always loved to dance. As an adult adoptee, a bio mom, and an adoptive mom, I dance between love and loss regularly. I dance with joy over small victories and small signs of acceptance. I dance to escape pain and to avoid obvious rejection from my family(ies). Let me continue to dance with the pain, the understanding, the surrender, His plan, and not faint.

 

I arrive at church a few minutes (like three) late.  I stand by my husband, and he does not even look at me.  Later, when talking with him, I realize that he is just frustrated/embarassed by my lateness.  He likes to be on time.  But at the time, his refusal to look at me crushes me.

I almost left church.  I wrote him this note:
“I am hurting. I came to the pew. I felt ridiculous. You didn’t look at me . . .nothing. I feel pointless.”

This mirrors my experience with my birthfamily.  I searched for them.  I found them as a grown woman.  I went to them.  And, they refused to look at me.  Some of them (not my birthparents, but siblings and an aunt) even met me/communicated with me; and now, those same ones refuse to “look” at me.  This has left me feeling pointless, feeling as if (at times) I don’t exist, I am a nuisance, and I am too much for people to handle.

So, if my husband, children, parents, friends do anything similar (don’t respond to me, don’t answer me, roll their eyes at me, are disapproving of me), I have a hard time keeping my self-esteem intact.  I am sure of this.  I have lost my rudder of who I am and what good I have to offer.  I have always had a pretty intact self-esteem; however, it seems that once my original parents turned their back on me not just once but twice, I have been shaken.

After this non-encounter with my husband, here are my notes from the “sermon” that morning:

“I need God to minister to my heart.  I can’t concentrate on these details.  A lot of times these details are really interesting to me. But today, I can’t hear them.  My husband has fallen out of love with me.  I have others who speak more kindly/complimentary to me than him.  Others flirt with me.  He doesn’t.  He doesn’t even look my way when I come to stand next to him.  The hell of it is that he knows me better than any of those others who flatter.  He knows my flaws . . . my flaws have made me lose him and I don’t know if I can get him back.  I don’t know if he’s capable of loving me–partly because I’m unloveable, partly because he doesn’t, partly because he refuses to communicate with me in a way that I hear.

I need so much love at this stage of my life.  My birthmom has broken my heart.  Dear God, my birthmom has broken my heart.

I used to feel like I couldn’t go on . .. this used to push me down–used to hold me back.  No.  It’s a simple fact. I will face my responsibilities.  I will be who God meant for me to be, AND my birthmom has broken my heart.

I have a broken heart.

It makes me think of Naika . . . I don’t know if her heart is broken or if it is just maybe confused now.  Her birthmom left her at the orphanage, visited her repeatedly, and left again.  But I wonder if her heart will be spared being broken . . . that when she is older/and adult even . . . and goes to ther birthmom–that Mama Marie will not reject her–but embrace her.

Kind words and touch mean so much to me–a letter from someone, a card, comments about, my looks, even being wanted–all of that.

Can I get to a place where I hear what God’s kind words and touch are/would be to me?  The needs I have–I need God to meet them and my husband to meet them.  But he often seems so mad at me:  corrective, distant, defensive, disinterested, disapproving, unimpressed.  I don’t understand this.  Others don’t see me this way.  Is this because he knows me best?  Can he love my flaws?  Or do my flaws discount what others see in me?  What do I have to offer to him?  What does he like?

I did not set out to hurt her.  I was just a “baby” looking for her mom.  Where is the blame?  What did I do wrong?  When they rejected me, then I chose wrong–yes.  Who knew they would reject me?  Who knew?  He knew . . . God knew.  I need you to catch me, God.

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