Gained a Family, Only to Lose Two as Well

Growing up, I always felt like I was different from the other members of my family. I guess this was in part to my knowing about being adopted as an infant. I was adopted by my natural Aunt and her husband. I will refer to them as my heart says to, as my mother and father.

I was not the older sibling, but I was in the middle. Having a eight year difference in the ages between me and my older sibling, and having seven years difference between me and my younger. I was in the middle. The middle child. I know you as well as myself have heard about all the characteristic profiles of middle children. And I guess to some part they could have been related to me.

As a mother now with three children, myself, and having one child smack dab in the middle herself, I can see why there could be some friction, or bad will.

You , as a middle child are not the oldest, so you do not get all the perks of being the oldest, and as a middle child, you are not the "baby" either. So all of us know what privileges the baby gets, right? I found that my belonging in my family was a act of futility. It aggravated me so. But I also liked having an older sister, and I loved, at the time, having a younger brother. My brother , who grew to be taller than I, were playmates. We would enjoy going in the back yard and into the woods, searching and exploring. When I was at driving age, and got my license, I took him with me everywhere. I thought he enjoyed my attentions, and the privileges of being in my company. But...

Now my problem was with my sister growing up. Seems we did not get much time to do anything, except for when she was married and kept, me and my brother during the summer time vacation. That is when we would go to her house and she would fix us omelets with cheese and ham, and would let us eat pizzas at lunchtime. It was great as far as food and the fact my sister had lots of it, other than that, there was no real bonding. She, my sister was too old to confide in, really, and she was a "mother figure" in some , if not most aspects. This would serve to be a great hindrance in our relationship, on down the line.

As far as my mom , she was the church going type, who believed we should go to church every Sunday morning, and every time, we could. She was strict in her belief system, and she was a constant supporter of us, kids. Dad on the other hand was pretty much the quite reserved person. He did not go to any sports of mine, or to any plays for me, he did not even talk about anything really. His hobby as well as his profession was wood crafting. He could build anything and everything in home furnishings. He supplied my mom with endless furniture pieces and my sister's new home was well furnished as well.

I had a desk he had made for me, the secretary style. I pretended that I was running a post office because it had so many cubby holes for mail or papers inside. I loved it, it was given to me on my sixteenth birthday, as I recall. I still own it today. My children think it is neat to hear of its origin and its many travels.

My life was normal to on lookers and it appeared to be a good one. I had a religious mom, a seemly subtle dad, a sister who seemed to cherish me, and a brother. What more could I ask for. So many times I was told of how my parents adopted me, and how special it was and how special I was because I was chosen by them and accepted by them as their very own child, born from love, not of flesh. I was grateful, but I was also curious, curious about my former mother, of my former past. I would never though let my present family know of my thoughts. They would and did take this to mean I was unhappy and was seeking love from others, and did not love them anymore, you could say ungrateful. That was not the case, I did love them, and I did want to be loved by them. I was just, like many countless others, searching for that spot that was gone, the place in ones soul that had been lost. I wanted to know why, sure I had been told one version of the story, but I knew that to make it not be painful, and for fear of my not loving them, my now mom and dad would tell me the worst side of the story. Not to be mean but maybe to be selfish, and they did.

Still to this day, after all has been dug into, and question have been laid out, there has been no real closure. I have not found that missing link, to all the question of motivation, that was heaped upon my door side. I have been resolved to remember what I now have and not what I do not. As well as for any unanswered questions I think I am owed to get a answer, well, they are not that compelling anymore.

Now I am not saying that if tomorrow, someone offered me the answers to all of them, that I would not feel completed, I would be lying. But I wish to be happy for now, and dwelling continuously on things I will never know, is taxing.

I did find my birth mother, had a few years of communication, back and forth, in calls, and letters. I did find my blood sister, and had a period when the world was going my way. When things were brighter than they had ever been. I felt loved, accepted and cherished. Fortunate you might also say.

Really, what is it inside us, that manages to grab hold and convinces us that we are so much better than we would ever be, at this very moment and time?

I am not sure, but I felt for sure I was there. I felt like this was my time, it was destiny. Finding and communicating with my lost "family". What could I asked for more?

I was scared though of my "now" family finding out. I could not let it happen. Things began to surface one day, upon returning from something I had been doing.

Arriving back home I was in a pleasant frame of mind. I set foot in my parents house, and mine, when I was instantly approached by a rather confused and frustrated mother, and sister. I asked what was the matter with them, and then it all "fell out on the table". I was being argued with, even though I was not able to say one word. Let's just say that my brother had spilled the beans about my visiting my birth family, and all. I was being accused of "family treason." With one on one side and the other on the other side, I was being rode up one side and down again. I was being tortured, I tell you. With tears and penance I was apologizing for having seen my birth family, and having kept all that a secret.

It was resigned that I no longer loved my family, and I was looking to be loved and possibly move in with my birth family. Lets just say, things were and never would be the same again between my family now and my family from birth. I now was settled to staying at home side and not going to visit the other reason I was alive, my birth family. Things started revealing their selves to me, after that day.

Little by little I could tell feeling about me had changed for members of my family. What was minute to say the least, had escapade into a great event. I was never so hardly trusted before. Everything that was bad, was now becoming my fault, some how. My mother did not even enjoy being around me. My dad tortured me with his ways, and my little brother now lived to bug and put down. My sister now, did not believe that I loved my family, and she was adamant in saying this much. Anything I had to say was now looked at "under a microscope", and I felt like a stranger in my own house.

What did I really ever do to deserve this. Must I now, take every effort to reassure these people, and let them dictate my every move and thought? No! I would not be defeated.

As if this was not bad enough, I had the birth family calling me up and calling me a traitor, basically. They wanted me to come and see them, and sherk what I was told to do by my "now family", and I could not. It was said "If I really cared I would come and see them". Whatever. This was how it all began, once again.

This family, my birth family who was not all in the same place for longer than a year, and who moved, each time I had to track them down by a phone number or a letter, or a chance. I was getting pretty aggravated. This birth family thought I owed them, they thought because I was of their flesh and blood that I was to swear allegiance to them, and them only. Could not have me loving two families, it just would not be allowed.

Why? That is all I can ask. Why? did my families have such a reaction, and a play on words.

Now I am no longer in contact with the "now family", and I have little dealings (because of their lack of desire), with my birth family I have had two families, and have them no more, really. I have since married and have a family of five. There is me and my husband, two girls and a boy. I have this family now, and here is where I believe I was supposed to resign. Here is where I am safest. These members of my family, love me and know me. They accept me, and my passions. They feel my pain and try to comfort me. They fill that void, I have felt for so long. They, my family, are these five people. They are my soul's companions. I love them, and I hope to have them, till death do us part!

Your past can take over your life, it can consume you. It can be the reason you wake, the reason you sleep. It can even separate you from what is really important in your life. It changes and sometimes destroys you, (if you let it). Do not let feelings and hypothetical scenarios, rule your life. Live for today, tomorrow may never come. Do not go forward, only to fall back.