Breaking Up with My Son

Time travels, too fast.  Today I watched my son at his soccer game wondering if seven years earlier I was in my right mind.  His brown hair and skin glisten in the sun from the sweat of running around the field.  He is an athletic young man, which he got from his father, along with those blue eyes that stand out in contrast to his other physical tones.  He is smart, too.  Although I had chosen a closed adoption, my sons mother seemed to understand that I could not lose that significant piece of my heart, the piece that is connected to the accomplishment of life.  I did not fight her on her choice and now, I think I appreciate it more.

I accidentally became pregnant, and when I say "accidentally" I mean it was unplanned.  I screamed and hollered the day I found out I was pregnant.  My life was not ready for a child.  I could not care for him, I still had more life to live, and I had not decided whether I wanted to have children or not.  At the time I was in a relationship with a man, no one to be impressed by and probably one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but is that not what everyone says about an ex? Anyway, the relationship did not last, leaving me with this small piece of me and small piece of him (of course it was more me).

A week went by after my childish adult tantrum before I was able to grasp anything and what I decided to do was consider the circumstances logically.  I could not think with my heart, although my emotions were as elevated as the power of a super hero.  I decided that I would break up with my baby.  Now although I was dissolving our relationship, I could not completely dissolve our connect considering this child was a part of me.

I did the logically responsible adult thing I could do, connecting with an association that set me up with a counselor who would help through the breakup of my relationship.  She educated me on my choices to confirm not only that I understood what I was doing, but that I was ready to follow through with my choices.  What many do not understand about me, is that when I make a choice I follow through and when it comes to letting go of people in my life, I erase them as if they never existed.  A life with little memory defaults to the disappearance of a subject from your mind.  I had used this method with other individuals, specifically exes, and I was choosing to do it here to salvage my emotional sanity.  I may be able to logically and conceptually get rid of a person, but I am human with emotional attachments.

My determination followed the process of development strictly from nurturing a human life to finding a qualified candidate to take my place in my son's life.  I know it sounds like a process for hire, but ultimately, that is truly what my choices came down to if I was to try and remain unattached.  

I did find a family for my son.  The parents were, as my girlie side would describe, adorable.  They were high school sweethearts with a four year old son, at the time, whom they had adopted earlier.  The interaction between the two dark haired, brown eyed individuals was priceless, the type of love you see in a Hallmark movie.  Their son, even though adopted, resembled many of the parents' physical features and was one of the most well-mannered children I had met in a long time.  I had my share of interaction with snobby "children" who felt the world owed them, but I wanted my son to be a strong independent individual.  The family was perfect to the point where a part of me wished I could be a member.

The days and weeks pressed on.  My health suffered a bit through each milestone, but my son's parents were there with me through every appointment and anything other concerns that included their son.  I began to trust them more also, know that actions speak louder than words, they were people I could depend on or more so, my son could depend on.

My counselor told me, multiple times, that there are times when the mother carrying the child begins to rethink her choice.  I would like to have said I was above this, considering my arrogant determination of choice, but I too, am human.  One night I went over to see my son's mother.  I wanted to tell her everything that was going through my head and what I was feeling because even though she may not have internally carried a child, she understood the love for one.  I am also flawed with the trait of honesty.  I see no reason to lie in life and in this particular situation, the lie would concern something or someone that was significant to me.  We talked late into the night as I explained to her everything I had been through, the choices I made, and why I made them.  The only thing that bothered her was the idea of a closed adoption since it was more common to have an open adoption.  I admitted to her that I did not want the emotional pain, the pain of feeling like I abandoned someone, a life that I had a part in creating.  Tears came to the eyes of my son's mother.  She told me I had a big heart and did not deserve pain, but knew, because of that attribute, it would be hard for me to completely grasp the idea that I was not abandoning our child.  

Today my son is an honor student.  He, of course, plays soccer, is taking piano lessons, and has one of the most curious minds his parents have known.  Although, I still chose for the adoption to be closed, my son's mother convinced me to have a "slightly" open case where I would have the role of being a guardian angel for my son.  I would not have to feel as though I abandoned him, but I would not have to know every detail about him either.  His parents send me pictures every so often and though a part of me would still like to be a part of their family, I understand that my son is no longer mine, but theirs and that he needs to have his own life.  I do watch his games occasionally or see his piano recitals, but those are just events that confirm to me I knew what I was doing when I made my choice to break up with my son.

Lost in Insomnia: Storm Swampside (Part 1?)

Some nights I just cannot sleep.  My mind wanders into this black hole that causes chaos deep within my mindset to that point where conscious meets its innate depths.  The moon is low shining bright against the dark of night with a glimmer of stars in the background.  The wind is unsettling, but the waves of the swamp remain calm.  The question is to let go with the intentional risk of sabotage or to remain guarded with the protection of armor, playing it safe while always in question?

I lay back against the grass feeling every little creature under squirming to scream from the weight of my body as it pushes against them.  Thank goodness many were able to escape as I understand that I am relaxing in some form of poo.  My eyes close, ignoring the squish on my back as I try to find myself by losing myself.  I have a choice to make and I cannot, for the life of me, seem to find the answer.  My head runs away, or rather my mind, figuratively hiding from the world while the rest of me has to remain facing the harsh winds that are yet to come.  

A tear falls down my face as I dread the choice I have to make, knowing that either option is a risk of pain with the understanding that the choice is potential and not utterly impossible.  The chance of desire or the chance of failure.  The focus of promise or the distraction of opportunity.  

The wind picks up harmonizing through the grass as it calms the chirping of the grasshoppers.  The moment is coming and I cannot decide.  I choose to armor myself, playing it safe with a guaranteed plan of execution that falls short in fate, but ensures survival with an imprisoned heart.  I close my mind off to possibility, fading deeper into the dark hole of my mind.

Lightening streaks across the sky.  The thunder following as it ripples the waves before me.  I remain relaxed in my mind, but for once feeling unsafe.  My choice now incorrect.  The risk no longer an option.  My fingers curl around the breast plate as I spiral deeper into the darkness.  I am frozen in fear and in the strength of my determination for survival for I have been through more hellish circumstance.

The wind dies down, taming a bit of its temper, but the lightening is unforgiving.  It strikes the tree above my body and I awaken at his scream.  My fear now replaced with sadness realizing the passing of  opportunity.  I might have been safe by taking the risk.  I might have understood his proof to me if I had taken a chance.  I may not have hardened every molecule in my body if I had just...admitted...what I was scared to face.

No you probably will not understand this, so do not even try, but I hope you enjoyed.  Thanks for reading!

Facing Me

I am sorry my readers that it has been some time since I last made an entry, but as most of you may know, this usually indicates that something is going on.

Once again school has taken up my time and now that I am in the final week, I am left with so many questions.  I realize that I have strict logically supportive opinions with correlating ambiguity.  

I was recently asked why I do not talk about myself much in conversation.  My first thought was "You don't ask the right questions if you even ask me a personal question to begin with."  Then I thought, "You want me to be a narcissistic freak always posting things about ME on Facebook because I am too self-absorbed to realize that there are other human who inhabit this planet?"  Strike two.  Third, I am a private person.  I have my life, my friends, and all you need to know is what I let you know.  Many of you have read prior posts and understand the privacy.  After a period of abusive solitude, I value my life as a whole.

Tonight someone told me they wanted to get to know me.  I was asked questions that I had trouble answering with the retort ringing "Why do you care?"  I answered as if I was choking down the words and then the person stated, "I know you are divorce, but I want to know more about you."  I know divorce is not uncommon and it is something that I may nonchalantly discuss, but to have it remembered felt weird considering its association.

After almost five years, I still get the looks, the questions, or the unnecessary empathy as though I am weak.  I have built an empire on my independence and been scorn for it.  I have created characters based on my experience as a method of freeing my imprisoned mind to appear normal outside the walls in which I live.  Some days I am 21,  I drink all night flirting with men and women with the cognitive thought that I am young and have nothing to lose.  Some days I am 35 in a midlife crisis, quietly shunned by society with no understanding as to why I am single at this age with no spouse and no kids.  (Easy, I'm a leper folks.  It's the ONLY way to explain that.)  Other days, I am an 80 year old woman whose husband passed away after their 50 wedding anniversary, but does not lack the energy in life as I race folks in my wheelchair down the hall and flirting with the male nurses who are always willing to give an innocent old woman a kiss on the cheek.  Then there are those days where...well, I'm basically dead, at least physically.  I have no age because time is just a figment of human imagination as a form of measurement as an explanation to why things change, but I then exist in color or maybe in a moment completely untraceable.

So maybe I do not tell you everything about me or even tell you at all knowing you would blow a gasket out your rear.  Maybe it is better to know me in silence...or through my screaming text (writings) of insanity. :P