Arrogant Bastard

No, I am not talking about myself. It's a really good ale. You should try it sometime, if you like beer at all. I think it's fabulous and have had it numerous times at local bars in my neck of the woods, and of course its name makes for great jokes in adoptoland. As it turns out, A took me to lunch at the brewery where Arrogant Bastard is made! You have to love his great taste.

Not to mention that I left the brewery with some marvelous swag, including a hoodie for the brewery's IPA (India Pale Ale) called Ruination (ah, another loaded name for us bastards) that reads appropriately across the front: "I'm very bitter and I like it." A found this one and brought it to me, knowing I'd love it. He is the best little brother EVAH.

So the visit was amazing. I feel a thousand times better, although I broke down several times being in super-danger-trigger zone. I don't think I ever quite convinced him that it wasn't that I was crying about him, it was the always right-under-the-skin losses that seeped through. Men are sweet in wanting to fix things, but adoption isn't a fixable item. I feel secure that he and I can move ahead, which is a HUGE step for me, and he was able to ask me, in return, for certain things that are reasonable to make his life easier. It felt great to have a real conversation about what the heck we're doing, what we both want, and know that we're in this for each other. I am relieved to be off high-alert adoptee mode because it's a fucking living nightmare, and when you love someone, you waste time being a freak when you're hypervigilant around them.

It's a learning process. Baby steps.

And then I learned that my nfamily has read my blog. I am aware it raised some eyebrows. I know that A learned some things from it that he respected and has used to change the way we interact, in a positive way. He wanted to explain about some of the times I felt abandoned, and why he wasn't able to be there for me. He was incredibly supportive about how I felt, and for that I am extremely happy, especially where it comes to coping with my depression. He wants to be one of the people I ask for help when I get into my dark place, which is both unexpected and scary for me. Wonderful because I think he could be of great help, frightening in that when I am depressed, I am at my most vulnerable.

We have agreed also, in the spirit of moving ahead with our relationship, that I will keep our conversations private. I understand that no one wants their dirty laundry aired on the Interwebs, and he fears being savaged by an angry bastard. Fair enough. We are a very scary bunch, we zombies adoptees.

Then as icing on the cake, I had a great talk with C today and discussed my anxiety/abandonment issues with her. I feel like my emotional system is near to a positive reset. I had been so scared to tell her how I was feeling, but all went absolutely well. We talked about the primal wound and my loss and anxiety and extended time in the NICU and guess what? She didn't tell me that my pain is "probably" is due to some other variable, like my amom being depressed, or the color of the nurses' uniforms, or the type of lightbulbs used! In my nonscientific nonstudy, that makes TWO of my mothers who believe in the PW. I  like it.

She and I talked about how we both have our dark, lonely prisons in which we suffer our losses and sadnesses, albeit different ones. She was encouraging and told me that she's sorry that I read her silence as abandonment; she cares for me. Wow. It meant the world to talk to her about my anxiety and have her accept me anyway. She called what happened to us "our story," which was very cool. It is ours.

Her advice to me for now was to try to "just be" for a while. To take walks and read books while my arm is healing. I am not very good at living in the moment, but for her, I will do it.