Nov 2014
When I was in high school I had an English teacher who I thought “got me” and I sent her a song that meant a lot to me. She ignored it and I eventually got that band tattooed on me. In that same class we came to a topic that I felt very passionately about, that same teacher made fun of me for going “Sarah Palin” on my essay.
When I was in high school my uncle told me that he wouldn’t look at me twice if I were standing next to a girl in a pretty dress. He told me that if I wanted boys to like me I should change. My mom told me it was my fault because I whined about boys not liking me. My mom told me that my anxiety is selfish and made up. My mom has done many great things for me. So has my uncle. Maybe it is selfish that I’m only writing about the bad stuff.
When I was in high school my biological mother got married and I found out via facebook. I was devastated and innocent and literally could not understand why I would not be in the wedding. I went outside to the garden owned by my parents who did not give birth to me and cut myself in the yard. When you’re bleeding you don’t worry about anything else.
The only biological family I felt close to was my on father’s side. I felt like they accepted me for who I was- while I always felt like I was pretending with my adoptive family. Maybe the idea that I am more natural with my biological family is something I created in my own head. I am very lucky to be an adopted child with a relationship with their biological family. I felt bad for my little brother on having such a confusing family structure. I wondered if he understood why. I fear that he is being raised in a hyper masculine way that I morally do not agree with. My Uncle Billy loved me exactly for who I am. He died and for the first time I experienced real loss. Someone who truly loves me has died. This is what growing up is. I believe my biological mother has decided that it is less painful not to remain in communication with me. I have learned that it is never easier that way. At least not for me.
Now I am living in Boston. I have a goal. I have a passion I want to pursue. I have Christmas lights and candles and artwork and tattoos and healthy friendships and big dolly and candy and hot chocolate and good music and a phone and safety net waiting for me back at home. I want to help others. That is my goal in life. I want to work in a group home or a homeless shelter or a **** victim crisis center or anything. I think I can save the world even if I can’t save the whole world. We all have little worlds that we carry around with us. We learn from pain, we become something of it, we make it count.
When I was in high school my uncle told me that he wouldn’t look at me twice if I were standing next to a girl in a pretty dress. He told me that if I wanted boys to like me I should change. My mom told me it was my fault because I whined about boys not liking me. My mom told me that my anxiety is selfish and made up. My mom has done many great things for me. So has my uncle. Maybe it is selfish that I’m only writing about the bad stuff.
When I was in high school my biological mother got married and I found out via facebook. I was devastated and innocent and literally could not understand why I would not be in the wedding. I went outside to the garden owned by my parents who did not give birth to me and cut myself in the yard. When you’re bleeding you don’t worry about anything else.
The only biological family I felt close to was my on father’s side. I felt like they accepted me for who I was- while I always felt like I was pretending with my adoptive family. Maybe the idea that I am more natural with my biological family is something I created in my own head. I am very lucky to be an adopted child with a relationship with their biological family. I felt bad for my little brother on having such a confusing family structure. I wondered if he understood why. I fear that he is being raised in a hyper masculine way that I morally do not agree with. My Uncle Billy loved me exactly for who I am. He died and for the first time I experienced real loss. Someone who truly loves me has died. This is what growing up is. I believe my biological mother has decided that it is less painful not to remain in communication with me. I have learned that it is never easier that way. At least not for me.
Now I am living in Boston. I have a goal. I have a passion I want to pursue. I have Christmas lights and candles and artwork and tattoos and healthy friendships and big dolly and candy and hot chocolate and good music and a phone and safety net waiting for me back at home. I want to help others. That is my goal in life. I want to work in a group home or a homeless shelter or a **** victim crisis center or anything. I think I can save the world even if I can’t save the whole world. We all have little worlds that we carry around with us. We learn from pain, we become something of it, we make it count.
