DENIED - By The Government

Preparing for our march for adoptee rights in Dallas this afternoon.  We are hoping for media attention as Sarah Palin is in Dallas speaking to help the Gladney Center for Adoption raise funds.  Gladney is the only adoption agency in Texas that continually testifies against the efforts of adoptees, birthparents, and adoptive parents in their efforts to restore the rights of adoptees access to their OBC's.  Most major Adoption Institutions and agencies that operate for the welfare of adoptees now agree on open records in adoption.  Children are our most precious resource we have.  The Government and Adoption Agencies have no right to treat us as commodities.  If Adoptees are to feel they are like everyone else we need to be treated as such.  My records My right!

DENIED - By The Government

I plead though they ignore my cries.
The record's sealed is their reply.
Time and time again I ask.
I'm told to put it in the past.
I can't get them to try and see.
They have what belongs to me.
I beg for truth but no one hears.
It only falls upon deaf ears.
I get no matter how I try.
The same stone cold response DENIED.

Karen Belanger
Assembling Self

Genetic Equations

I hate math, always have, always will.  Somewhere in my genetics only things artistic got through.  Like my music ability and talent.  And yes, yes, yes, I know music is math but as I told my college advisor PLEASE do not ruin it for me.  I see now I have a genetic connection to music as my birth great grandmother was a concert pianist and music teacher, one of the few true pieces of identifying information I have about my birthfamily.  I see music as more of a language you read, interpret, and perform.  Much like writing. Along with dancing, which is my birthmother's favorite thing as she stated in her letter to me, these are my favorite past times.  My dream would be to be able to spend the rest of my life in pursuit of the arts.  I  wonder if my birth parents wonder who and what I am now and what genetics they bequeathed me.  Mother's Day and Father's Day are coming up.  Maybe they will think of me as a parent I don't know how they could not.  But, then again maybe I have long been left in the past.

Equations

One plus one they say makes two but I'm not sure if this is true.
In this case one and one made three explaining how I came to be.
Then three came in between the sum divides them back to one and one.
These equations seem to break all the laws of give and take.
But life not always plays by rules nor by facts we learned in school.
I know this all so very well I only hope to "show and tell".
When one and one took separate paths no one needs to do the math.
To know this story problem's mine.
I'm the remainder left behind.

Masks

Procrastination or self preservation?  And yes, I have vascilated.  I was supposed to petition the adoption court after the first of the year but I did not.  And yes, life got in the way in HUGE ways no one can doubt that fact.  However, time is an hour glass and, the longer things slip away undone the more we can lose.  People pass and people lose memories invaluable tidbits of information that can change our lives...especially as adoptees.  I am not sure how much more I can lose but I also know I can't go on not continuing to try.  This is my fourth petition in 12 years.  Exhausting is an understatement.  Maybe I love torture and banging my head upside a wall.  I would rather call it stubborn.  Who knows, maybe it's hereditary.

I can never seem to relate to non-adopted persons when trying to convey my life in relation to having no connection(s) with anyone biological and feeling how ostracized from the world I feel no matter how many words I use (SIGH).  And, in the fact that my adoptive parents and I are not close, not even close, in fact the total opposite it's the loneliest feeling I could not imagine wanting anyone else to deal with.

And, in not dealing with it I don't have to come face to face with the scenarios I could, and most likely will, encounter.  But, in the not dealing come consequences one's of regret and life with regret is sadder than the pain of facing reality.   It's just simple closure I am looking for.  So, while I plaster on this smile about it all the while trouble brews below.  And yet, I'll be ok because I can wear my masks.

Masks

They perceive this shell but can not see deep inside the real me.
The one who is afraid, scared, and weak, of things I dare not reveal or speak.
They think I'm really someone else this front, facade, false prided self.
Little is the world aware what silvers of my soul I share.
I keep it hidden very well beneath the safety of this shell.
Protecting weaknesses unknown the sealed off part me called home.
For like chameleons that hide beneath the camouflage unspied.
I cover up what I can't show with secret masks concealed below.
The naked eye can not detect these fortress walls build to protect.
Within my dwelling unrecognized a stronghold they can't criticize, nor ridicule, or realize, or know how much that I despise,
this vulnerable woman that I am.
So alone in silent pain I stand.