Friday, June 10, 2011

Collateral Damage

I had all these wonderful ideas for posts this past week but I was derailed by a convergence of misfortune.

Last Friday I saw X-Men: First Class and despite its many cliches, I was galvanized by its charaterization of adoptees mutants and how easy it is for the powers-that-be to talk over them, dismiss them, or even order their destruction for the "good" of others. I found myself identifying closely with Magneto, who drew his strength from anger and pain. Although I didn't wear my anger and pain on my sleeve, those two emotions were always driving me towards success so that I could have power over the assholes making my life difficult. When at one point Professor X, the chirpy James McAvoy, warns that revenge doesn't bring peace, Magneto says, "Peace was never an option." I so understand that. There is no peace to be had, just living with the pieces we have. There's a difference. Those who want the high road can have it.

Then Saturday was the big family reunion in Indiana to which I wasn't invited. Again, I get it, but the rejected baby inside...not so much. Mark and the boys were on a mission to cheer me up and took me rollerblading. Which was great until I fell spectacularly, heard a sickening crunch, looked at my left arm, and knew immediately it was broken. I enjoyed an ambulance ride to the ER with two handsome firefighters who gave me some much needed morphine and zofran. I wish that the orthopedic surgeon had been as kind as the paramedics. I ended up with a splint and will have surgery this coming Wednesday (curiously, the same surgery I observed as a nursing student) to pin my radius back in place. Fun! It sucks having one hand to type with, especially for a grammar and spelling Nazi like myself. Luckily, oral Dilaudid makes me care rather less.

Then I was hurt that when I told A about all this, he seemed very superficial about it. "Oh, sorry to hear about that, get well soon!" Is that really what you say to someone who's more than an acquaintance? Barely two lines? That's what I say when I hardly know you or if I am really enforcing distant boundaries (read: I don't like you very much). I called him out on it, and also on his telling me that he went to Indiana to spend time with his wife--really?!? I know he was trying to protect my feelings, but the lies hurt so much more. I know he and I have very different coping mechanisms (stuffing vs. expressing) and that neither of us knows how to be a sibling. I do love him, but all of this is incredibly raw. I told him how C is ignoring me, and he told me to keep trying to reach out. I said that I cannot. He offered to intervene; I don't want that. I know that I am testing him and that I am ready to run at the drop of a text. I struggle between thinking I am better off with my fucked up life such as it is without family triggers and knowing that I would be miserable without A. It's a Hobson's Choice. Is this a wound I continue to reopen, or do I suture it and pretend it's sterile, knowing full well that it's contaminated with flesh-eating S. pyogenes?

I hate being collateral damage to my "family." Such "nice" people. No one in that small town would guess I exist; better keep this well educated woman hidden. Such an embarrassment to the family name! It must be my foreign husband, or my accent, or...NOTHING RATIONAL AT ALL.

I know I am not powerless in all this, but I wish I could erase my attachment, DNA or otherwise, to people who care so little for me (A excepted: he is at least trying). If only the adoption lies were true! How lovely it would be if nurture were all that mattered. I hate that as the adoptee I had no choice in that original clusterfuck of lies. I do have the choice to walk away from them now, but it's bone-achingly sad to contemplate doing so. I still hold that abortion would have been the kindest option in my situation, and I find it ridiculous that they hide behind "God" and religion while treating one of their own so abominably. A dash of hypocrisy with that drink? Best served cold? Like cheap beer?

Where the hell is my superpower, by the way? You'd think we'd at least be given something like that for what we endure.


Von said...

You have it in your hands.It's what Linda's friend says "I will not participate in my own abuse" Closing the door as I have just had to is sad but it's better than suffering abuse or the results of abuse passing down the generations.Do hope your surgery goes well and what a terrible thing to happen from such good motives.Thinking of you, Von

shannon said...

I'm sorry you had such a bad time and that it's so tough. I respect your strength.

Trish said...

Kara I am so sorry. Damn you fucked your arm up! I'm sure there is a metephor there.... So sorry girl. Take good care, If I was close I'd come with drinks and ice cream.

elizabeth said...

I'm sorry you broke your arm, hope you are on the mend now, and heal quickly. xoxo