Popped Out of the Woodwork.

The broken family image always disturbed me, I fought it off for all I was worth.  I called my stepmom “Mom” and let very few people know that I had last seen my birth mother when I was six. I just didn’t want that associated with me, you get the pity, the tsk’s and the “Wow I never knew your life was like that.”

I try to ensure it’s not denial.  I mean, I might fail sometimes on that front, but for the most part, I live for the future.  The future is mine, it’s control-able, and if I play my cards right, it is un-associated with the past.

So my real mom added me on Facebook.

She’s pretty. She has two other children. She got married this August.  She was born in the same month as me.

And I resent the fuck out of her.  How is it, that I know more about her from her Facebook page, before I even click the “Ignore” or “Confirm” button on her friendship request?

And I have a paper to write, and my friend’s dad just went to the hospital, and my work day was from hell, and there are too many cats to feed, and I just want a glass of wine and a cigarette.

So what do I do? What do I do, so that I am calm, at peace with myself and choosing what is right for me? Is curiosity enough to hit the accept button? Am I sure enough of my level of assertive abilities?

And you know what? I think she was flirting with my Dad. And her husband’s in jail. I can’t keep a level head these days. I’ve had enough.  Just when I think I’ve taken all the insanity I can take, the world figures I should take a deep breath… and handle some more.

End rant. Hope your evening is more peaceful.



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