Little Things

I have been feeling tender of late, partially because it breaks my heart to hear of adoptees being frozen out by their natural families, and partially because I am back to the dangerous job of hunting my own doubts about my nfamily, the ones that hide in the shadows like wolves. Are they shadows? Are they real?

I called C last week, but she didn't return my call. It may be that she was out of town and didn't see that I'd called. It could be that she chose to ignore me. I don't know. Then on Monday I was shopping for a present for A, whose birthday is Friday. He had asked me to buy him a particular pair of sweatpants with the UC logo on them, but they were out of stock. I called his phone to see if he could give me guidelines for another pair. T answered. It seems that A leaves his phone at home while he's at the hospital because he doesn't get good reception. I spoke with her, got the information I needed, and then asked about their plans for the week. She said that they're planning a simple celebration on Friday, and that they're going to spend the weekend, sans W, in a town north of San Diego (coincidentally, very close to where my aparents live). I knew that C was flying out to babysit, but T said nothing of it. I said, "C told me that she's going to help you out by babysitting." T confirmed, but changed the subject summarily.

Why is there enforced silence? Did T not want to hurt my feelings that I am not invited? Is there some intrafamilial agreement about communication that I am not to be told about? Is C planning to exile me again? I wish I could ask her, but she's in San Diego now. I don't want to overstep boundaries by calling her there, especially given the silence stuff, and yet it pisses me off that I have to bury my questions and needs to protect those crumbs that I have (or think I have).

I also grew paranoid because usually when I call A and he's not there, he will call me back or text me. He hasn't yet. If last year hadn't happened, I would not be so freakishly concerned about it. But he threw me away before, and I am more than aware that they can do it again. Sucks. I hope I am not about to lose my new hard-won balance. I haven't quite figured out what my gut is telling me is going on. It is suspiciously silent, but perhaps that's a good thing. We will see what happens, but the waiting is also painful. Insecurity is like very slow-acting poison, although I think I have very good reason to feel insecure.

I was recently reading a memoir in which the author wrote thus about the eulogy at her father's funeral: "It seemed more likely that the vicar, a man who had known my father for thirty years, was thinking of his aching need for a love greater than any one person had been able to provide." Sometimes I wonder about myself similarly. Is what I want too much? Am I unhappy because I expect or need more than I can ever have? Can one person, or any person, give me the love I need to thrive?

Then I remember that all I am asking for is to be treated with consideration, like a human being with value who belongs and who deserves the truth. Little things that end up feeling extremely consequential when they're absent or denied.