Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Boxes

There are people who can compartmentalize their feelings and store them neatly away in little boxes. Some of the boxes seem to have labels, and some are put in dark corners without labels. In some ways I am envious of the people who can dissociate themselves from experiences and forget them. That is not one of my gifts.

I have been reading lots of short stories recently, and the best short stories, in my opinion, are those that open up windows into the ambiguities of life. As I have mentioned before, I love India and history, and one of my favorite colonial writers is Kipling. Yes, he was a racist, yes, his politics were suspect, and yet his perceptiveness about human nature is powerful. I recently bought a compilation of his stories of the supernatural--he wrote fabulous ghost stories--and was struck by something Neil Gaiman said in the introduction about "The Gardener": "It was a tour de force. It's a story about loss, and lies, and what it means to be human and to have secrets, and it can and does and should break your heart." Yep, it's about adoption and a natural mother keeping her secret until after her son's death. Of course it is. Only adoption can pack the punch of all those secrets and lies and heartbreak. It was published in 1925. Plus ça change.

On this day before my birthday anniversary of the day I made my debut in the world (borrowing from my friend Krista), I am wondering what tomorrow will bring. Will C and A remember? Will they not? How will I feel? I am glad to have made plans with my friend Chris to go to a museum to see exhibitions that will take my mind off things: one with a beautiful Roman mosaic excavated in Israel, and one of elaborate clothes made of paper, called "Pulp Fashion." One of the dresses that Isabelle de Borchgrave, the artist, has recreated is that of Eleonora of Toledo, from Bronzino's portrait of her with her son.


I am a sucker for 16th century portraits, and particularly for those by Bronzino. The smooth surfaces and veneer of artificiality and exquisite masks speak directly to the adoptee in me who is so adept at wearing them and seeing behind those of others. At the very least I think tomorrow should be about having fun and escaping into the art historian side of myself, where I am at my most cool and collected. A stiff drink might also help.

It really is sad that my birthdays were, or could be, happy occasions for me until last year. Being confronted with the realities of my role as the problematic infant makes it difficult to return to those days of sunny ignorance. Again, not that I'd trade knowing for not knowing, but knowledge sometimes brings pain, and pain can be a rather annoying companion at times.

8 comments:

Cricket said...

I love you Kara.

Von said...

Thinking of you today, wishing you joy in the exhibition and the stiff drink!I hope it goes well.
To compartmentalise is to cut off our feelings isn't it?
Just a doctors learn to cut off empathetic feelings, so can others and when we do that to ourselves we're surely not well served.
It hurts but it's real and it's ours!
Love you too! x

shannon said...

I hope you had a good day!

Suzanne Innes said...

I hope that the day was better than you imagined and that you have some special memories attached to it.

As adoptees we really have to start at a point and build memories (sometimes, anyway!).

ms. marginalia said...

I had a good day with my friend Chris. I can blog more about it, but in sum the exhibitions were curated horribly. Still, it was a beautiful day in the park and the views of the ocean were lovely.

The bad news was that I heard nothing from either A or C. Despite my best laid attempts to downplay how I would feel, it was very difficult. I ended up having a text exchange with A, who apologized profusely, but apologies cannot erase the feeling of being forgotten, once again. I just never can seem to make it to the surface of their consciousness, and as much as I can rationalize knowing that it's not that I am not loved (many friends love me dearly), it is a stab to know I am forever an outsider in my nfamily.

I have been very, very sad today.

Trish said...

I'm so sorry Kara. I have no words, just ears, and I hear you.

SustainableFamilies said...

I like your blog! Just stopped by for the first time!

-Rox

ms. marginalia said...

Hi, Rox! I am so glad to see you here. I am a big fan of yours.