cousin

All posts tagged cousin

The Holidays

Published December 7, 2019 by maryleesdream
christmas tree with decors under the staircase

 

The holidays are upon us again.  It’s a time of joy, but also a time for sadness for many.  All of the positive images of family and love can make people long for what they don’t have.  I’m one of those people.

I have a wonderful family.  Husband and 4 grown children.  My eldest daughter is expecting a daughter in April.  This makes me so happy!  I cannot wait to meet the little one.  K, my daughter is 32, and not married to the father.  In fact, she only knew him for 4 moths before she fell pregnant.  In the old days, she’d be a great candidate for adoption.  Not in my house though.  Never, never ever. We will love that baby, and my daughter and do everything we can to help and support them.  Granddaughter! What a beautiful word.

I was born November 13, and relinquished on November 18.  This is always a trying time of year for me.  I was in a foster home, somewhere for my first Thanksgiving.  I don’t know who I was with, or what name they called me.  Was I Marylee, what my mother named me, or did they just call me another name they made up?

 

I arrived at my adoptive parents house on December 13.  Just in time for my first, terrifying Christmas.  Why terrifying?  I didn’t know these people, and my A-mom was always rather terrifying to me.

I have no idea what my natural family does for the holidays.  Do they still gather as a large group, or do my aunts and uncles celebrate with their own growing families of children and grandchildren?  I will never know, because I will never be allowed into that family.  They say it’s because of the way I behave, but I think it’s because I was relinquished.  I think they can forgive one of their own, if they behave badly, but I must be shunned if I do.  And, the extent of my bad behavior has been my anguish over my adoption.

Every holiday, I still foolishly hope I’ll get something from my family.  I never do.  I never will.

 

 

 

 

 

The Past

Published August 5, 2018 by maryleesdream

lonely

 

Last night, I woke in the middle of the night, and I felt such fear and dread.  I sought the root of the feeling, and could not find it.  I remembered that I have always felt this, and that the feeling has no name.  I also remembered that it will pass.  It will return, and it will go away again.  I think we all have these feelings.  It’s the human condition.

When I think back on my childhood, I cannot find any happy memories.  None.  The whole thing is colored a dark grey, by my adoption.  Losing my mother, and never being allowed to even speak of it, colored my life.

No family. No one. Nothing. Every day, all day.

I could not wait to escape from my adoptive parents house.  I met my husband when I was 16.  Someone who could save me, and make me whole.

“But, your adoptive parents loved you.  They did not abuse you! They raised you!”.

I know. I was there.  They tried, but I was so hurt.  I could not feel their love.  Their love was spoiled for me, because it came at the expense of my real family.  I should not have been put in such an impossible position.  I could not accept the love of the ones who I felt were responsible for my loss.

Did they really love me?  I suppose so.  I was a good enough child.  But, I was not, and could never be their child.  They had to maintain the illusion that I was.  They did not tell anyone that I was adopted.  It was a hidden family secret, one that I dared not speak of.

How I hated the phrase, “when we got you”.  Got me? I wanted “when you were born”.  I wanted my mother to tell the story, of my birth, not the story of these  strangers who somehow, “got me”.

Even as a young child, I felt this way.

It was a lost cause, from the start.  I was broken, unable to be fixed.  On my own, from the start.  I had to turn my heart to stone.

I remember, being at my Auntie Irene’s house, during the long hot summers when I was 6 & 7.  There were 4 older kids there, my adoptive cousins.  They did not like me much.  The feeling was mutual, but I was at a disadvantage.  I was all alone, and they had each other, as well as their real parents, and I was an unwelcome guest in their home.  My adoptive parents sent me there so they could both work full time during the summer.

I used to lie awake in my borrowed bed, listening to my adoptive uncle’s snores and will my heart to be hard, like a stone so I would not feel the pain of being left alone, again.  I locked my self in the bathroom, and said every curse word I knew.

I went home on weekends, and never told my adoptive mother any of it.  I never told her the sex games my cousins would play either.  I finally told her when I was an adult, and she said, “why didn’t you tell me”.  Sigh.

Would I have sadness if I hadn’t been adopted?  I’m sure.  My real mother had issues.  I still loved and needed her.

DNA

Published April 17, 2018 by maryleesdream

dna

 

 

My father’s sister did 23 and me, and guess who popped up on her DNA family page, little ole me!

She was listed as my half sister, which would either mean her father,  is my father too, or my father, her brother is her father too.  I don’t think either is the case, with DNA relatives, they come close, but the exact relationship isn’t always certain.  But I kinda liked the idea that my dad slept with his mother.  Then finally his family would see he wasn’t a great guy.  I thought it was kinda funny.

So, I contacted her, on the 23 and me website.  We shared our DNA profiles.  It was nice.  Then we started emailing.  I shared my huge Ancestry.com tree with her.  She asked if I wanted to meet for dinner sometime, me and hubby with her and her hubby.

I did not want to do that.  I told her about the shunning, and she said my cousin, the one who told me about the shunning had it wrong.  There was no decision to shun me.  I guess it was not official, but everyone did it anyway?

Strangely, I have no desire to see my Aunt.  She does not mean much to me.  She told me that she loves my father, “warts and all” and cannot speak about his decisions.  Fair enough.  I can, and his decisions hurt a lot of people.  He’s a scumbag.  As long as I feel this way, I don’t think I can ever get along well with my aunt.  We can’t have a casual going out to dinner kind of relationship.  Especially after all those years of silence.

And…still no word about my mother.  No acknowledgement of her death.  No I’m sorry, nothing.  why would I want to be near this woman?  Well, I don’t.

Auntie said she’d be there if I ever wanted to get to know her.  Does that sound like a loving invitation?  It does not to me.  I know enough to stay away from this one…

 

 

Maybe I’ve Got it All Wrong

Published January 14, 2018 by maryleesdream

 

Family-gallery-for-clip-art-pictures-of-families-clipartcow

 

I think my birth parents are my parents, not my adoptive parents.

I do not think I’m related to my adoptive parents at all.  I can’t understand how I can be expected to believe unrelated strangers are my family.  I was raised by, and around my adoptive family, but I never,ever thought, or wished that I was related to any of them.

They’re OK people.  Not too bright, actually.  My mother was much smarter.  More damaged, for sure, but quick, in a way the adopters are not.  Mom & I both have large vocabularies.  A-mom, not so much.

It’s not a popular point of view, but it’s one I just cannot shake.

No one likes it.  My adoptive family think it’s wrong, because my A-parents raised me, and I should see them as my parents.  My birth family doesn’t like it.  I’m not sure how they feel about it, but it seems they don’t consider me a relative, and wish I would just vanish.  Which I have.  I have little contact with my natural family, 7 years after reunion.

We may have no contact, but they are still my relatives.  No matter what everyone else believes.

Are there any others out there like me, who do not understand how we’re supposed to believe strangers are our families?  Please let me know how it is for you.

A Letter to My Father

Published September 14, 2017 by maryleesdream

 

writing-letter-586d7bbe5f9b584db320f6c5

September 13, 2017

 

Dear Dad,

 

I can’t believe it’s almost 7 years since I found my family.  It hurts so much to know that you are all out there, and I am so alone.

It’s been over 2 years since my mother died, and I haven’t heard a word from my family.  I don’t think anyone can imagine how bad that feels.  It’s a terrible curse to have a family, but not be part of it.

The last family member I heard from was my cousin W.  She told me that the entire family decided that it was best not to have any contact with me.  Best for who? I asked, but there was no answer.  It’s not best for me, so I guess it must be best for the rest of you.

It was best to give me away as a newborn, and best to shun me as an adult.  But, never, ever best for me.  Best for me would have been to live and grow up with my family, and best for me would have my family accept and love me as I am.  I will never get that.  What’s best for me is not very important to my family.

I still live with the pain of being cast out.  It does not get better.

I did not attend my mother’s memorial.  My brother kicked me out of hospice on her last day.  He asked when he got to be alone with his mother.  I guess his whole life was not enough for him.

My mother and her friends hated me, so I thought it best to stay away from the memorial.  I never saw my brother, John after he kicked me out of hospice.

You are the one with the mystery illness, but my mother was the one who died.  Life’s funny like that.

Anyway, just wanted to let you know how much being abandoned, and shunned hurts.  I’m pretty sure you don’t care, since you always do what’s best for you.  And never, ever what’s best for me.

 

Marylee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Thing About Blogs

Published September 14, 2016 by maryleesdream

 

BLOG on speech bubble price labels

 

Well, I made a big boo boo.  I showed my blog to a bio family member.  It did not go well.  All they saw was anger and hatred, on my part.  Nothing at all of the pain that I’ve gone through.  They told me, repeatedly that I was harboring hatred, and that I hated my entire bio family.  I do not.  I don’t even know my entire bio family! ( that’s a joke)  I do know that they haven’t lived up to my expectations, but then again, I haven’t lived up to theirs either.

ISA, Infant Stranger Adoption changes everything about a family.  It removes a child, like surgery, and the wound that removal causes heals.  Scar tissue forms.  Life goes on.  When that person finds their family, no one knows what to do. There is fear, a lot of fear, on both sides.  Here are my mother, father, brothers sisters, aunts Uncles and cousins. but they are all strangers.  And I’m a stranger to them.

I wanted them to treat me as if I had been kidnapped, and finally found alive.  I wanted them to fuss over me, show me off, invite me over.

But, with ISA, there is also shame.  A kidnap is not voluntary, ISA is.  My parents made a decision to give me to strangers.  It was not random.  I was not taken.  There is guilt involved.

When I blog, there is usually a reason, a trigger.  I don’t do it that often.  The trigger is usually negative, something that made me feel hurt, and I use my blog as a way to get over it, to get it out of my system.  So, most of my blog posts are angry, or hurt, or mostly both.

That does not mean that I am angry all the time.  I’m just not.  I actually have a real life, full of good things.  I guess if you read my blog, that may not show.  My blog was written over years, but reading it all at once may be overwhelming, especially to someone who has lived a happy life.

Letting my family read it was a very bad idea.  They think I’m bad enough already.

 

 

 

Good vs Evil

Published September 7, 2016 by maryleesdream

goodvsevil

 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a person good, or bad.

No one is all good, or all bad.  I think it’s a matter of perception.

I have been communicating with a paternal cousin, only through Facebook.  We have never met in person.  She is a few years younger than me, and grew up surrounded by our extended family.  I was touched when she said that she was sorry about what happened to me.  No one in my father’s family has ever expressed any remorse about my being given away.

I told her that I thought my father was a bad guy, and she assured me that her Uncle was not a bad guy.  He just made mistakes, and she was not going to judge him based on that.

That’s fair enough, but it’s a little different for me.  I am one of the mistakes that he made, and his choices affected my life in every way.  To me, he is the very essence of evil.  An entitled man, who liked to stick his dick in women (and sometimes children, if you count 14 yr old girls)  with no care at all for what his actions produced.  He left dead and abandoned children  in his horny wake.  He gave me the same amount of care that he would a tissue that he jizzed in.  Just throw it away, and don’t think about it any more.

I also shared that my father’s family does not speak to me, and my cousin told me that there had to be a good reason, because they were good people also, who would never turn on someone for no reason.

Maybe she’s right about that too.  Maybe they are good people, and I did something wrong.  I’m not the most diplomatic person in the world, after all.  I definitely said things that were very hard to hear, but what did I really, ever do to anyone, besides being born at the wrong time, to the wrong woman?

adoption

Where she sees good, loving family, I see cold unforgiving strangers.  We are blood  but I am different because my father put me outside of the family, and his blood is better than mine.

It’s all a matter of perception.

If my father is a good man, who made some mistakes as a callow youth, why does he still shun me and his grandchildren? Why doesn’t he try and atone for his mistakes?  Are these the actions of a good man?

Why didn’t he say anything to me when my mother died?  Does anyone know how much that good man, and his good family has hurt me?

If they are such good people, why can’t I see it?  Why are they hiding their goodness from me?  They seem to love each other, why don’t they love me, their cousin, their niece, their daughter?

Maybe it’s me who is the bad person, unable to forgive and forget.  Maybe that’s why I deserve this.

evil