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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BusynMember" data-source="post: 660121" data-attributes="member: 1550">I can share what I used to do. I pretended (I guess cheated). I thought of the few and far between times my mother showed a little warmth. Everyone shows warmth at times. Now, in case they are reading this, I do not mean my brother did not get warmth from her.  He did. My sister got it once she turned around 30 years old. But I didn't get it on a regular basis, but I clung to the few memories of her approval, like the day I sang "How Lovely to be a Woman" in Bye-Bye Birdie and the director stood up, clapping, and said, "That was REALLY professional!" to me. My mother beamed. She was so proud. Those were the types of things that make any mother proud so she was reacting normally this one time.And I block out her mocking voice screeching, "Hockey players!!! I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare! But you don't g ive a dang (the real word) about anyone in this family. You're so selfish. You only think about yourself." (This, by the way, was stated because I loved hockey and baseball and got mocked plenty for that...she didn't think it was wrong that a girl liked sports. She just used anything I loved against me. And I did love sports. I still use sports as a major form of escapism and fun and bonding with hubby and Jumper. And Bart sometimes, although we like differing teams. Ok, off the rant.I also forget "You adopted those kids for the MONEY. Yes, you did, don't give me that BS, you did, you did, you did! You want the money from the state!"Yeah, you get a lot of money from the state when you adopt internationally. (This is a lie. It's only for foster care adoption in the U.S.)With my sister I had a lot more fun. I used to use my creativity to be, we ll, very creative and wrote scripts to her at college called "How the Burnstein Family LIves." Pretend our last name was Bearnstein (it isn't). I used the name and twisted it a bit. I remember the first line of the first play I sent her.I renamed the family members, making fun of them all, including myself. But this exchange was between my mother and father and never happened, but to this day it still makes me laugh because it is so true. My father only had to say a word and my mother would erupt with "divorce."Ezra: Esther, da meat iz a leetle cold. Can you heat it up pleeze?Esther: That does it!!! I want a divorce!!!!!My sister told me that she used to crack up reading my scripts and her roommates would ask her what she was laughing at and she would say, "Oh, my sister's a writer and this is funny." She never showed anybody, but we understood.Our family was nuts and we could both make fun of it, including ourselves. In it, Naomi (not my real name) was big as a house because I had gained a ton of weight once and may hve still been big at the time. I don't remember. She ate everything in sight, food or the table. Rachel, my sister (not her real name) was so skinny nobody could see her and people would say, "Where's Rachel?" and she'd be there, but invisible. She had an eating disorder. But we laughed at ourselves and at our family. It was not malicious. I was not yet taking an honest look at the family. It was an outlet of rage underneath, I'm sure, (and I think it may have been for her too), but it was harmless. And she'd write back and we'd both laugh and we had fun.As time went by, we were on again/off again, depending on her an d I would always remember the laughs we'd had, not just over th e scripts, but we have a similar and very silly sense of humor and she can catch onto what I mean. Not everybody can or appreciates my sense of humor, but hers is similar.So I missed the laughter and the past that we shared. Until I got very heavy into therapy and realized that the laughs we had together did not make up for her feelings that I am "crazy" or that she never stuck up for me to my mother (which she did not HAVE to do, but which I would have done for her...and which I did not think was okay).She called the cops when I tried to find out why she was angry. She even called OUR small town cop shop once I moved to another state. The joke of it was our town only had three cops and the one she always got was the father of a good friend of Jumpers and totally believed that my sister was crazy when he talked to me about her calls, as he had to do. Calling the cops? REALLY?  I also suffered after each cut off and that was not ok either. I stopped remembering the fun times, as there were less of them after her divorce and various escapades with men. Bad men. We disagreed on her lifestyle and choices and she was not ok that I disagreed.Now when I think of both my brother and sister, and it becomes less and less, I remember the mean stuff. The cut offs. The cops. The names. The blame. The times they took my intentions and turned them black. They have both done this over and over again. The letter from my brother than I thankfully never read, but that I knew was meant to be mean. How my sister spent years and years cutting up my brother. She was so embarassed about him. And how my brother forgave her for all that ugliness, but wrote letters to ME.When I don't look at only the good, which is the minority, and as we get older it gets worse and worse, I don't feel those warm fuzzy "I know they miss me" emotions anymore. I don't know if they do. I know my sister used to miss me A LOT. I hope she no longer does because that would be unfortunate for her. As for bro, well, as I've said often, he hasn't lived here for so long that I don't know him anymore and he sure as hello does not know me. He was mama's main protector.Cedar, the key is oblivion. I swear by it. Now you can't do it if you can't do it. We all have to handle this our own way. But I find it much easier to do it t his way. THEY ARE TRIGGERS. They disrupt the normally peaceful life I live.Now I understand something else too, which is a bit delicate and I hope this does not tread on any toes.I have a good relationship with my four kids that are still around. Goneboy, no, but the other four, yes. And I think that makes it easier to get rid of the other family. So I understand why it is harder for you two to say good-bye. I anticipated this family tossing me in the mud and I wanted a family so I very deliberately made sure I had a large family of my own. I had five kids, but one took off...it's still four kids and now two grands. In many ways I had a lot of foresight when I was young, screwed up or not. I knew I wanted a family. I knew that the more kids I had, the more love I'd have and the more love I could give and I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. I had no fantasies of working or running a big corporation and did not really miss not having a full time job. I wanted to raise my kids, not have a babysitter do it. I worked part-time and only when my first husband could be home, like in the evening. No daycare. Not in my vocabulary. I did not work for many years when I married a second time and raised Jumper and Sonic. So I got to live my dream, pretty much.In case you wonder how I feel about Goneboy, I love him. I don't ache with that love though. I know why he had to leave and I wish him no ill. He does not feel like my child a nymore because he has been gone for so long. I do not mourn the child he had that I never met. If I'd met them, that would have been different. I figure it happened because it had to come together for HIM and I did all I could.Yes, the four other kids are a great consolation and make it ok that he made this decision. It did hurt a lot for two years, but I understand it more now and life is still good and I hope it is good for him too. I am not angry or bitter or sorry we brought him here. I am only sorry I had not checked with others about the success rate of older child adoption before we did it, but, of course, like everyone else who does it, I would have turned my cheek and thought, "It will be different for us. We will be so careful about which child we adopt and we will love him enough to heal him." So I don't blame us for adopting him either. My feelings about this are pretty much comfortably resolved.I think I rambled enough this time. I hope this made some sort of sense. Had a busy work day and brain is a bit scrambled, kind of like an egg <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite2" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=";)" /></blockquote>

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