Memories

I remember when I used to love the holiday season. The lights, the music, the hustle and bustle, not to mention the feeling of goodwill in the air. I always felt like people were kinder, gentler. As a child growing up with a mom who really wasn't my biggest fan, the holidays were a reprieve from her cruelty and indifference towards me. We always had a fresh, real tree  that we all decorated, and we always had all the delicious sweets and treats around the house. My grandparents always came to visit, and I loved them so much, and they made everything better.
After being adopted my love of the holidays continued for a few years, but it was never the same. My adoptive parents don't have the same traditions, and I certainly didn't have the warm relationship with their parents that I did with my real grandparents.
At this point the holiday season is nothing but a month of pain and heartbreak. I have spent every Christmas alone for at least the past ten years. Even when I lived in the same city as my adoptive family, I chose to spend Christmas alone.
I try to keep up appearances and when people wish me happy holidays I try my best to smile and wish them the same. I don't want to be that grumpy bah humbug person. But it is who I've become. I try to act cool like it just doesn't matter, but it does.
I want to decorate, and bake delicious vegan sweets and have a huge holiday meal with all the vegan trimmings. But my cats just don't appreciate home cooking.
I hold on dearly to my memories of happier holiday times filled with family, love and warmth. And I hope that those memories help prevent me from becoming a total Grinch.

Progress not Perfection

For those of us who aren't Trump supporters this has been a tough few weeks. For myself it's less about Trump's win, and more about the hate his campaign not only stirred up, but normalized. I wrote about my sadness and frustration on my vegan blog and didn't know what to expect. I assumed most of my readers shared my opinion on the Trump debacle. I got two negative comments, which in the grand scheme of things is pretty good. I responded to the comments in what I feel was an appropriate way. Both had mentioned they were just here for the food posts, and one was offended by me using the word dick to describe Donald Trump. I mentioned to both people that I have never only talked about food on my blog, so maybe my blog wasn't for them. Not everyone is for everyone and all that. Well, one of the anonymous people who didn't like my political opinions responded to my response to them in such a cruel, personal way that it really threw me for a loop. They sent the response as an Email so no one else could see it which made it even more personal. It made me feel hurt and angry and also a little confused. And also a little leery of putting myself out there on the internet. Because when you write about your weaknesses it makes people feel like they know you, and the really vicious ones know what to say that will hit you hard. I haven't responded because what is the point? I feel that responding will only lead to another response, and it will only get meaner. But one thing I am grateful for is that it really made me think about how I respond to people I don't agree with. I don't want to ever be like this person. Because you never know what kind of day or week someone is having. I never want to make someone who I disagree with online feel the way I felt. I already am having a hard time coping with the impending holiday season, and just a lot of other stuff, this was close to being the straw that you know what. I was thinking about not blogging again, or drastically changing my blog by keeping my opinions to myself. Because of fear. This person made me feel scared of who I am, and what my opinions are. That same fear has caused a lot of mistakes and missed opportunities in  my life.  But today, as I am fighting the blues and trying to make my apartment as festive as possible for me and my cats, I am feeling grateful that I pulled myself out of my slump, and I didn't let fear rule over my decisions like I would have done in the past. Today I see that however slow, I am making progress.

Baby Steps

Well, yesterday I went to therapy for the first time in a million years. I had all but given up on therapy, and I was handling my depression pretty well through healthy choices. But I have hit a road block, and lately no amount of healthy living is helping. I feel like Pig Pen from The Peanuts. Except that instead of dirt, it's just sadness floating over my head. My body also feels very heavy, at times almost painful. I can think of different times in my life when I've felt especially depressed but yet still hopeful. Hopeful that at some point things will get better, and for the most part that's happened. But this time, I really have little to no hope.
As I left my appointment, I wanted to call someone and say "I did it", I made myself do it. And I had no one to call, no one to say "wow" "good for you" I don't think therapy will help heal that wound.
I like to fancy myself an open minded person though, so I'm willing to at least try. My attempts at therapy in the past have not really helped. But part of that is because I've been to some terrible therapists, and I've also tried therapy at times when I wasn't really wanting to be healthy. For over two years now that's all I've been striving for. I want to be one of those people who radiates happiness and light. I want to be inspiring to other people.
What I've realized is that even though I no longer drink or smoke cigarettes, all of those feelings and reasons why I did those things are still in me.
And even though I have nothing to do with my adoptive family, they are still very much a part of my life. I have to let go of this anger. It feels so impossible.
Therapy is hard, and it's scary. Opening up to a stranger is hard enough, but opening up those wounds and getting in there and getting dirty is not easy. But I'm starting to believe it's very necessary in order to move on. At least that's what I'm going with for now.

Locker Room Switch

As the Trump campaign marches on, he just keeps doing more and more outrageous, offensive stuff, and the people who are already opposed to him are horrified of course, but his supporters remain strong. While a lot of people are shocked and appalled at his words, especially about women, I am not surprised. Donald Trump speaks for a lot of men as far as I'm concerned, based on my life experiences. I've worked in bars and restaurants for most of my adult life, and unfortunately all the disgusting things Donald Trump has said pales in comparison to some of the things I've heard and had to deal with over the years.
When I hear people defending this talk as "locker room talk" it seriously makes me sick. That's part of the problem, that's why we have entitled men who think this is okay. Women excuse it as "boys will be boys" I can't tell you how many times I've had a problem with something some perv has said to me, and female coworkers have almost shamed me for being offended. It's really a tragedy that I got sucked into that line of work, because I am definitely not made for dealing with that stuff.
We like to think that sexual harassment is a thing of the past because we have so many laws, and blah blah blah. But, it does exist, and there are so many reasons why people don't speak up. When you don't have a ton of employment options, it can be scary to think about standing up for yourself and losing your job. Landlords in my experience don't care if you're being harassed at work, they care about rent.
I don't know what will make things better, but I know that someone like Donald Trump will only make things worse. He's reminding all the people who harbor racism, hatred, and misogyny that it's not only okay to think that way, but if you really luck out you might be able to run for president.

To Therapy or Not?

It's been awhile since I've posted anything on here. It's kind of nice to feel no real pressure. I think of this as my diary. I just pop on here when I have something I'm feeling or need to say, and I have no one to say it to. I've been battling depression, and it's making life difficult. I was flirting with the idea of therapy, even made some calls to find a therapist who works on a sliding scale/fee. Not an easy thing to find. There are three offices here that offer sliding scales, and they all have waiting lists. Now, I'm rethinking therapy. I have so many horror stories of therapy. And I met my adoptive parents through therapy. My "mom" was my therapist at one point. She has helped me make some decisions in my life that I deeply regret, and have and continue to cause me a lot of pain. One of those decisions was to be adopted by them. I don't know what I was thinking. But that's always been a weakness of mine, I don't look at how decisions I make now might affect my future. But she was the adult, and the therapist so that should have been her job. So, it's hard for me to imagine sitting in a therapist's office spilling all my inner most feelings. And no amount of therapy will bring me any kind of family, or family closeness. The fact is that I am alone in this world. I mean, I have my cats, and I know I have a scant few people I could call a friend, but I don't have any family. I don't have a childhood home, or my old bedroom to go to escape, or get the warm and fuzzies. I don't have anyone to talk to about my childhood memories. Sometimes I wonder if they're even real, or did I make them up in my head?
Having just gone through a rather traumatic experience, I feel like having a loving family member to talk to and seek comfort would be really helpful.
Therapy also won't help me break out of the minimum wage rut. That's another thing that makes me sad and also angry, and more recently deeply ashamed. I know that therapy can help you find ways to solve what is troubling you, or at least learn how to accept, see the positive, blah blah blah. But between my own feelings of doubt, and the trouble I've had finding someone, I feel like therapy is just not what I need. It's like I've gotten to the point in life where I have to pay someone to care enough to listen to me. And that makes me more depressed than anything.
                             

Coping With No Closure

Closure is an important thing. I think most therapists would agree. It's really hard to accept and move on from a situation when there is no closure. I've learned that the hard way throughout my life. Every single day of my life I wish I could have some type of closure with my real family. When M and D adopted me, that was that. I never went and said goodbye, I never went and collected any of my stuff, it was just done, like they had never existed. Why didn't I question that? Why didn't I request a visit? I honestly don't know. When I look back to those first months of being adopted, it's like a total blackout. Like I don't remember anything. I do this thing where it's like I almost leave my body when things are too much for me to handle emotionally.
I never got to tell my grandparents how much I loved them, and how they were such a bright spot in my childhood. They made me feel loved and special which I so desperately needed. They were the yin to my birth mom's yang.
I'll also never have closure with my adoptive parents because they are completely incapable of admitting any flaws, or wrongdoing. I've actually always known this about them, because I've seen it in other situations with other people. They are both really, really good at pointing out other peoples flaws, and they're excellent at judging people. Somehow, their flaws are just filed under  "I know I'm not perfect but Jesus" while other people need to fucking figure it out and make the changes that they feel need to happen. They also lack the ability to see anything from anyone else's perspective. I know that for years they have both argued that the other is too controlling. Like I'm talking huge blowout arguments, the kind that shake a house. Yet, neither one has ever even contemplated if there is any truth to what the other is saying. From my perspective I can say with 100 percent certainty that they are both uber controlling.
I was surprised when I moved back to Erie to see them arguing in the same way and over the same things. They're both therapists, so you'd think it wouldn't be too hard to look within yourself.
I'm saying all of this to say that I will never have closure with them, they will never understand where I'm coming from. All they know is that I am wrong. I am a sinner because I don't believe, therefore I am condemned to a life in hell, and I am a cold, vile person for not thinking they saved me and that they are awesome and amazing. My feelings and thoughts will not only never be accepted, but they won't even be heard or entertained for a second. It's a hard thing to deal with. I'm trying to figure out what to do with my feelings and thoughts. I know I have to let them go, but it's just so frustrating. I feel like since I can't express how I feel to them, it's just simmering inside me like a disease. I've been doing guided meditation focusing on letting go, and it is helping, but I just know I have a long road ahead of me.

Holding On Letting Go

I was watching an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on Netflix the other night, and one of the characters said the funniest thing. He said " That's all parenting is, pretending you know what you're talking about, and jamming it down your kid's throat" Man, that show is so hilarious. I think that's what my adoptive parents thought when they adopted me. All they had to do was keep talking about God and Jesus, and eventually I would see the light so to speak. I mean, I met them while I was in a Christian group home. What was I thinking? I remember that the people who ran/worked at the group home were super strict/radical some(me) would almost call crazy/militant so I think they seemed "cool" in comparison.
I remember they made me go to church with them in the beginning. My adoptive dad, let's call him M, his side of the family is SUPER religious. Like the kind of religious where it seems like any kind of love or light, or laughter is considered a sin. Like going to his mothers house was a lesson in depression. It was suffocating, uncomfortable and just plain miserable. Even during holidays, no joy, no peace, just anger and religion.
Through the years church was used a punishment, when I would stay out too late, or do whatever to piss them off, well, one of my punishments would be church.
One of the greatest things I learned while living in Seattle was that it's okay to not be a Christian. I mean, I knew it was technically okay, but it was also shoved down my throat that while it was okay, you pretty much are a piece of shit who's going to be tortured for all eternity.
As I'm working through my anger, which comes and goes. Anger is a very brutal beast I've learned. Anyway, as I work through my anger, I'm coming to the conclusion that this is really no one's fault. They are who they are, and they feel very strongly about God and all of that. But I also am who I am, and I was raised with different beliefs. The problem is that with them, and to be honest most Christians I've met, it's their way or the highway.So, they are who they are, and I am who I am.
My anger comes from the fact that they just arrogantly assumed their way is right, and they just thought I would denounce the beliefs I have and was raised with.
It became unbearable to have any conversations with D, (adoptive mom) because the root of all of my problems according to her is the fact that I don't allow Jesus in. She is unable to see any good in me. All she can see is that Jesus is not my savior.
I'm trying to let go of the anger I feel towards them and it is so hard. I have no relationship with them, and I genuinely don't want one, but I do want to lose this anger. Because even though I have no contact with them, I'm still allowing them in my life. I don't want to hold onto anger and resentment for the rest of my life. That's one of my biggest fears. I hope writing about it becomes a release.