Welcome back old friends

I have no excuse for not having written anything on my adoption lately. In fact, I feel more today like I should have been all this time, and maybe, just maybe, I would have been able to deal with the horrible career circumstances I was facing last month with ease instead of crumbling like a piece of coffee cake on a porcelain white plate left for a mischievous cat on the table. Who's to say that my lack of discipline in writing would have detrimental effects on my career? Who's to say that my choices of career were never detrimental to my delicate psyche in the first place? That has some truth to it, but was meant to be a joke. I guess self-deprecating humor has always been a strong suite of mine.

I was telling a new friend the other day about my quest to find my birth mother, and it dawned on me that I had become very slack, too non-chalant, borderline healed. From what, you're thinking- I guess from being slightly overtaken by the thought of finding this woman- this anomaly who has been so elusive, so invisible, so far removed from my life. Have I ignored this for too long? It's been since August since I have put any real effort into my healing from this ordeal, from my finding my birth mother and never having had the chance to actually talk to her to find out the real truth- who she is, where I stemmed from. I know I have said in the past that I know I am from God, and my earthly parents really don't matter, but secretly they do. Truth be told, it's an internal war. One day it matters, the next I feel like I'm dying inside to find out who this woman is and what she's all about, and I guess to find out why in the world she too is not writhing with these questions, struggling to keep things suppressed so that people will not know what exactly she's been feeling, been worrying about. One would imagine, based on scientific findings, that this woman is probably a lot like me. But in reality, based on her non-action, I guess the truth is in the puddin. She is secretive-starkly opposite of me. I am completely transparent most always. I can hardly keep a secret, much less my own- always looking for some form of rationalization, justification. She doesn't ask people what they think about her private life. She bottles it all in. She knows better. She knows that people are often judgmental, relentless, unforgiving. She's right. They are. I just understand that people are also forgiving, contemplative when they have time to be, understanding, and interested, which if often confused with nosy. Silverliningish, yes.  Naïve? Probably.

How did I get on this rant? Why can't I just let it go? I guess to answer my own questions, it's because my inner dialogue will not allow me to give up. I'm not a quitter, never have been, except when it comes to relationships, sadly. I've quit a few good friends, and regrettably, they have allowed it, which tells me that maybe they were ready to quit me as well. That's another story completely, actually many stories, and not for today, but maybe one day I can get to the point of realizing that things are not always my fault, and release myself from this inner dialogue that will eventually turn me into one of those people who sits in the park and talk to the birds. That was a joke. I will probably sit at my house and talk to my cat instead, because he purrs back at least.