They Won't Like Me

Being friends with my biological brothers (my father's sons) on Facebook has at least one serious drawback: I'm almost certain they won't like me.

It's not that I lean politically to the left. I'm pretty sure they do, too. Maybe I lean more to the left, but I don't think it's a major obstacle. After all, they seem to be more left than much of my adoptive family, but I'm still able to maintain a relationship with them. Of course, we have decades of history to bind us together. I don't have that with my brothers. And it makes me feel on much more shaky ground.

But the real hang up, for me, is that I get the impression they are much more supportive of the military than I am. At least, I think this is true of the elder brother. And I worry that if he finds out my real views on the world, he won't want anything to do with me.

Hell, much of the time, I don't like myself. How can I expect people who seem to think some of my views are downright un-American to like me?

I think I've almost resolved to go to the reunion in July, but I don't know why. I'm not sure they really want me there.

Pious Words

This is cross-posted from Over A Candle. It Is a general post from me, applicable for many contexts. It seems especially relevant to adoption, though, as I have often been told similarly uncompassionate things by people when talking about adoption issues. So I thought I should share it here, as well. I hope you all don't mind.

Last Friday I attended a service at the local synagogue. It’s a reformed Jewish community, and I followed the prayer book carefully throughout the service. At the bottom of one page, I noticed this quote from Martin Buber:

When people come to you for help, do not turn them off with pious words, saying: “Have faith and take your troubles to God!” Act instead as if there were no God, as though there were only one person in all the world who could help - only yourself.

This is one of the most profound statements of compassion I think I have ever read.

Too often I have heard someone dismissively suggest something like “God never gives us more than we can handle.” Perhaps this gives comfort to someone, but I know too many people who have suffered mightily under the weight of their lives to believe it. It sounds rather unsympathetic to my ears.

Buber believes in God, but suggests that piety is not what is called for when someone is struggling. Rather, compassion is called for. It is not our job to tell someone to feel differently because God will handle it. We should instead listen to the person, not dismiss their pain. After all, they have come to us for comfort. It would seem heartless to pass the responsibility on to God.

Fathers

I'm still struggling with the invitation to go the my father's family reunion. The end of the semester has been keeping me well occupied, so I haven't actually dealt with anything. I have arranged my summer travel so that I can go if I want to.

And I do want to. I know that much about myself. I want to go. Curiosity, in the end, outweighs all the other hard feelings.

But shouldn't we talk before meeting at a large gathering? Does he really want to talk to me? I know he said (according to his son) that he doesn't mind me being there, but does he want me there?

In the end, I keep wondering, why do I have to do all the work? Why does this whole thing seem to rest on my shoulders? I get to drive eight hours, to go meet a lot of people I've never met before, to meet a man who doesn't mind if I show up.

I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and sorrow. That's how it feels. I guess I just need to get over it. Either quash my curiosity and forget the whole thing. Or I can go, lower my expectations to the point where I cannot be disappointed, and see what happens.

Two crappy options.

Adoptee Voices

Today I was listening to Minnesota Public Radio, as normal, when a show came on about Russian adoptions. I knew immediately I was going to be frustrated. But I listened to part of the show anyway.

The two guests were a doctor who founded the International Adoption Clinic at the University of Minnesota and an adoptive parent who adopted three children from Russia.

Anyone notice the problem?

It amazes me that people do segments and even hour long shows on adoption and do not include adoptees.

We heard a lot about the parents' struggles and some of the ways that early childhood trauma can affect children, but no adoptee appeared to give a first-hand account of his or her experiences.

Thirty-five minutes into the show, Kerri Miller, the host, finally read a comment from an online listener that an adoptee should really be included. I had sent in a similar remark as well. Thirty-five minutes in, and it finally dawns on her that maybe adoptees should be part of the conversation. And even then it takes a listener to point it out to her.

It's not as though adoptees aren't speaking out. There are so many blogs run by adoptees. Activists working on adoptee rights. And still, otherwise competent journalists do not think to consult us about adoption.

Sometimes it feels like screaming silence to an empty room.

An Invitation

About a week ago I got an invitation from my half-brother (my father's son). Apparently they are having a family reunion this summer, and he asked me to come. He assured me that our father didn't mind if I came.

Never mind that my father has yet to call me, write me, or otherwise acknowledge me.

I would like to meet my brothers at some point. But I'm not sure why I should go all that way to meet him if he won't even contact me. I have spent years trying to get some kind of reaction from him. Still nothing. But I can act the desperate son, looking for some kind of connection no matter what. Ugh.

And I don't know that a large gathering (though I don't know how large) is the best time to meet this part of my family face-to-face. That could get overwhelming.

I do want to meet both my brothers, and this might be an ideal opportunity for that. But still... There are so many conflicting thoughts and feelings running around inside me...

Sometimes I wish I had no family at all...

Subtle Digs

So I called my adoptive mom yesterday. I explained how busy I had been and had lost track of time. I apologized for missing her birthday, and she seemed okay with it. Who knows if she really accepted my apology. I don't. But she seemed to.

The conversation, however, took an odd turn at one point. She began to express some hurt over being slighted by one of her other children. Apparently, they delayed going out for her birthday by a day because they attended another birthday party (or two). So because they had been with other people, they couldn't be with her.

She was clearly upset by it. And she also clearly was trying not to dwell too much on it. She couldn't help feel hurt, but she was trying not to make a big deal about it.

I expressed my understanding that you want to be with family to celebrate special occasions.

I have to say, if she picked up on my dig, she didn't let on. I appreciated the karmic symmetry of her being abandoned on her birthday after abandoning her children for two holiday seasons in a row. Whether she understood the karmic implications, however, is beyond me.

I almost said something else, something to make it more obvious, but I realized I would be drifting into the realm of cruelty. As it was, I felt a little guilty for what I had already said. But I also felt a little better for having said something.

I don't want her to be hurt. And I'm sorry her children aren't always as thoughtful as she would like them to be. But she did teach them to be like that. And I would like her to understand how we have been made to feel by her absence.

Still, I'm not interested in punishing her. Even while I appreciate the symmetry, I have compassion for her, and I'd like to see her happy.

*sigh*

There's a lot of ambivalence wrapped up in all of this for me.

Bad Son

Well, my crazy life has finally caught up with me. I've barely been keeping my head above water, staying ahead of all the deadlines I face, and now I've finally managed to miss something important. Today was my (adoptive) mother's birthday. And I forgot to call her.

Is it that big of a deal? Maybe not. I don't know. I meant to call her. But today was another crazy day in the middle of a crazy year. And I lost track of this one familial obligation until it was too late. By the time I remembered, it was too late, and I was away from home with a phone whose battery had completely drained.

I think a few years ago, it would have just been a bad thing. No harm done. I quick (sincere) apology, and all would be forgotten. At least, I think so.

After the strain in our relationship over the past couple of years, I'm not so sure. And maybe I shouldn't have been five years ago. After all, in the past, she has held on to various slights and offenses. (It seems out of her character, I admit, but she's done it. She doesn't get mad; she gets hurt. And she seems to hang on to it.)

The main worry is that she might think I'm punishing her for all the things that have bothered me the past few years. But it was just an honest oversight. And I do feel badly about it.

There's nothing I can do about it now. And that, right there, is going to bother me until I can call her tomorrow and try to apologize and wish her a happy birthday a day late.

Birthdays... They always seem to get me, one way or another.