Raise your hand if you feel this.

Regardless, I am always going to be me so not sorry.

So… lets 🌮 bout it…

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I am absolutely the worst at trying to accurately fill out any ‘about me’ section. Primarily because when it comes to the basic sections of who are your parents… well… that’s a story.

I can’t exactly explain who I am because I have been missing a massive part of the story. I don’t have the cute, she cuddled me and pictures were taken. The only thing I have is a picture of a baby wrapped in a pink blanket in a plastic bassinet. My little name card read Baby Girl #5.

Over the last 40 years, I’ve had to develop ways to skirt the ‘birth story’ answers. Even when I went through childbearing myself… I can always imagine I was held like my children all were.

I have a very hard time developing deep feelings for people. I just don’t feel connected. I am very all or none.

Today is Tuesday. Transformer Tuesday is about changes…

In the last couple of years, I have learned more about myself than ever. This week especially, I’m pushed to new limits.

My Biological Mother passed away.

Before condolences are dropped all over the comment section, direct them to her family over on the obituary page. They are the ones that have a bonded tie with her.

I hate to put it this way, but I am pretty neutral. You see, I was never afforded the opportunity to form any kind of relationship with her.

Imagine for a moment, playing each day in the yard of the house you called believing the family inside was yours. You’re whole life being called weird by friends and family. Kids at school and temple making fun of your round face and out of control frizzy blond hair.

Don’t even try tanning. You’ll end up with 2nd degree burns and everyone constantly commenting on how much it must hurt. Then being disappointed when it heals and your still a nice shade of artic pale.

Then you graduate high school and the only information the state will give you is some non identifying shit that is half true. (My father was a Master Arborist… not a Landscaper.)

Then on your 37th birthday, your parents send you a DNA test. The results come back and your biological mother has lived 20 minutes away…. Your whole life.

Now your 40, and not only will you never know the truth of it…

This Tuesday I chose to transform my life’s rage at my adoption to peace. Should any of my readers be a member of Darleans family.

Please know her other two children are out here and we send our sympathy. -🍋💋