FAIR WARNING THIS POST IS WAY OFF TOPIC FROM THE NORM!
For some reason today, I have been revisiting some old painful thoughts and issues with the fact I am adopted. Most of the time I stalk about proud of the fact I am a bastard and wear a suit of armor that protects Me from all the hurt that goes with not knowing. I look at the people that raised Me, and find that there is a lack of caring on my part. Now don’t get me wrong I love my family, but in a very detached manner.
Its odd, but I feel as if I had been raised by My real family then I wouldn’t feel so bizarre about the life I lead and the choices I have made.
( part of this is the black sheep mentality a total free spirit in a family of conformity)
I am happy with where I am for the most part, I just wish it made more sense how I got here. That it seemed more the natural progression of things instead of so much angst and torment and conflict. Sometimes I want to be able to look into the mirror and know who that is looking back .
I know My birth mothers name, from what I have read My birth father and mother never married. He was in the military, I have no question as to where he probably ended up.
This was in 1969, from all the research I have read the information I have could very well be false, records were sometimes falsified to protect the birth mother from ever being found.
Now isn’t that a kick in the rubber pants!