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I'm getting OLD!

Kerry's picture
Thu, 2007-09-13 15:15 - Kerry

In a few weeks, I'll be turning 39.  <groan!!!!>

thirty-nine.

That's almost forty.

FORTY.  That's fart-joke age.  I'm not happy about that.  As it is, I hate my birthday.

Adoptees usually do.

It's the anniversary date we got separated from our birthmothers.  It's the date of our atonement, yet not necessarily our attainment from our new adoptive captures.

I hate my birthday.  It reminds me of all that was lost and never found.  It reminds me of wounds never healed.  It reminds me of scars still sore that can never be faded.  I have a belly-button to prove it.  It connected me to "Her"... and it linked me to a woman who no longer knows my changed name.

How do I celebrate that anniversary day?

I don't.

I try to pretend it doesn't exist.  But it's there.  It always is, damn it.  Same as my Adoption Day.  My a.parents were kind enough to let me know what day THAT was, too.  I get two days of the year to know when I came and when I went.  Birth and Death dates.  Weird, isn't it?  One mother's loss is another mother's gain... still all one child's life-long pain.

There are my Special Days.

October 12th and August 27th.

Oh happy daze.

I found the following text, and found it oh-so-amusing, given the context of male-mentality:

Jesus was 33 1/2 years old when he was crucified. He arose from the grave and is alive today. As Jesus stated, "I and my Father are one", he is ageless. He was, is, and always will be. He was there at the creation, and it here today. If you read Genesis you will see that Jesus was there. Jesus is not limited by age. It really does not apply. http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_old_is_Jesus

Jesus' belly-button came from his mother, Mary.  He was one, within her.  She was there when he was born, beaten, and died... after all, she was his natural mother. 

There is no greater loss than that which a mother has to endure than the loss of her own child.  God knows that is true.

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Comments

Thu, 2007-09-13 21:39 — neophyte

keeping memories alive

I don't get this whole 'come back to life' stuff.  Once a person is gone, he/she is GONE.
 
Only in memory can we keep a person alive, right?  So why does the adoption industry try to torture the adoptee with search and reunion bullshit?
 
Make-up your minds:  Leave well enough alone, and let us stay with our original families, or cut off all ties, send us to new families and never let us look back ever again -- OK???
Thu, 2007-09-13 22:48 — Niels

Jesus

I am not a religious person, so all miracles like the resurrection, I can't relate to at all. Like you say, Neophyte, once a person is gone he/she is gone.

Not being religious doesn't mean I take no interest, it means I have no concept of God I can believe in. Often when I hear the word God and I can replace it for myself with the word nature I am almost certain I have the same concept in mind.

What I don't like about christianity though is the claim of Jesus. As a small child I had an image of what doing right was and in my mind Jesus exemplified that. Since I hardly saw anyone do what was right in my eyes, Jesus was a special person, for doing so. That' s why I hate churches claim his holiness. Let me please just have an ideal and be happy with it.

Fri, 2007-09-14 11:01 — Kerry

The burden of proof

What's interesteing to me is what's in a name.

Legally speaking, we are given a first (middle) and last name.

It's the mother, who names the child, first.

The middle name is typically her family name, and the last name is the father's sir-name.

The bible was written by men, wasn't it?

What makes them think the long hair, the sacrifice, the taking and giving all came from THEM???

 

Thu, 2007-09-13 22:16 — Niels

The two days

My special days are Sept 9th and Sept 4th, the first being my birth day. I never liked that day. It makes me feel awkward. Somehow I feel a strong entitlement the day should be about me and that just never happens, making me both pissed and sad. I can't claim it as my day, it's just not in me to do so.

I used to have pictures showing me turning four, wearing a paper crown, having just experienced my first day in kindergarten. There are some neighbourhood children, my mother is there and so are my grand parents. And somehow it just doesn't feel as if they are there for me. Whenever I saw those pictures I couldn't but notice my mother and grand mother alternatingly taking centre stage. It's always been like that.

Nowadays I don't do much about my birthday anymore, I don't tell it anyone, so hardly anyone knows.

The other day I rather not pay any attention to. It's the day that hurt me most, why would I want to celebrate that.