Monday, January 03, 2011


It's January 3rd. I return to work this afternoon. I am both apprehensive and excited about it. So much to remember, although I love my patients. As we say in the medical arena, a good shift is when no one dies, so I'll aim for that. It's reasonable.

I am feeling bitter. Adoptees who speak out are often labeled as "bitter and angry" or "anti-adoption" when we speak out about things that are seamy in adoption; things that could be changed for the better for most people involved in adoption; things that aren't necessarily about being grateful for having a home and strangers willing to take us in and love us as their own (if and when they can); things that are ambivalent.

But I am not bitter because of my adoption issues today. I am bitter because the procedure that I had to help stop the pain didn't work. So here I sit, saddled with the same pain I've been battling for nine months, and I don't know what to do or where to go from here.

The next step may or may not be surgically implanting a pump that permanently bathes my nerves in narcotics, which would allow me to stop taking oral narcotics (not that they have much effect on me anymore, other than stopping my pain--I function normally because my body has become used to them). But that's more surgery with a big question mark attached to it. Will it work? Or will I have a pump in my abdomen that does nothing?

Last night I was so depressed and suicidal that I didn't let myself get out of bed. If I had, I would have thought seriously about an overdose. At least I was able to fight with myself and the "good" Kara won. For now. I can't deal with therapy. I have tried.

I am having a hard time envisioning a life in which I have to struggle with this pain, every day, forever. I am tired, irritable, and anxious. I don't have much left to give anyone, let alone my patients. We will see.

Many of my friends don't know what to say anymore. I have told them not to say "Chin up, things will improve." That is rainbow-farting, and I can't process it right now. It only makes me more angry. Yes, one minute at a time. But having lived the last nine months one minute at a time, the minute-by-minute thing has become very wearying.

Sometimes you just have to sit with what you've got, accept it, and soldier on. I am a good soldier, but my heart isn't in it anymore.

To be honest, the only thing keeping me breathing right now is my dog. He's adopted too, never says "be grateful," and is a warm body when I need one beside me. He isn't bitter.


Unknown said...

I love you Kara.

I hope you have a good day back at work.

Assembling Self said...

Amen my friend...amen (sigh). Love you.

Mara said...

I love you sis. And I am one who has not known what to do or say as I have been struggling intensely for the past several months. I wish I could have been a better friend. I'm trying to move in a new direction this year and become less dependent on my biological family who has been holding my emotions hostage (sometimes unintentionally) and start to try to enjoy the things that I used to enjoy again. I hope they find a solution for your physical pain so that you have half a shot of starting to do the same thing. I miss your smile...your REAL smile...not the forced one. Big hugs to you.

Lady M said...

Will calling you Dr. House help? Probably not, but maybe it might make you smile.

There's nothing to say but support and hope that something better will come soon.

ms. marginalia said...

Thanks, all my beloved friends.

I am sorry that my mood has been so dark and macabre for so long. I am trying to turn that around in 2011 and actually do what feels right for me without worrying about how anyone else will react. It's doubtful that I will morph into a raging narcissist (those of you who know me well are aware of how strange this would be), but I certainly can put my own sanity and health first, not chasing ghosts.

I am so with you Assembling Self. We are on the same path. I am here for you always.

Fuzzy Duck Sister of Mine: I know you've been in the toilet with me. I am hoping that we both can exit the plumbing and find some happy (or at least happier) spaces out in places with sun and warmth and beautifully scented flowers and grass. I am definitely pulling back from my nfamily. Last year was all about being the best person I could be so that they'd like me. They probably did, but in a limited, superficial way. They didn't really care about what was going on with me and my kids, but I could overlook that. Then the brutal dumping, horrid health, and other nastiness pushed me over the edge of sanity. I am still over the edge, but climbing back up and over to feeling whole, minute by minute.

My plan for 2011 is to decide what *I* think about my nfamily, and what I want from them. Since they are unable to offer compassion or regular communication, and certainly can't keep their word, I have arrived at a healthy spot in which I can say that I don't trust them, and really don't even like them. They and their ways of dealing with relationships are so foreign to me. I am finished giving the benefit of the doubt. Bottom line: Be honest, ask for what you need, and if it isn't possible, WALK. I feel more liberated already.

Why struggle to build relationships with people who can't invest time and effort in getting to know me and my family, and more importantly, with people who can't keep their word? Leopards can't change their spots, so why do I sit here waiting for something statistically very unlikely to happen, and in the meantime, suffering for being overlooked and undervalued.

Last summer when my brother wrote me the horrid e-mail from Afghanistan that said we come from different families, he's right: I am genetically related to them, but thank goodness I don't share their rudeness and coping mechanism of ignoring people they're not invested in. Their manners make my Midwestern skin crawl. Yeah, I am pissed off. And that's okay. It's not about protecting anyone but myself.

Vive 2011, the year of bullshit called what it is!