CoffeeTattoos

I struggle to concisely express the emotions I feel more often than not recently. The be frank, I haven’t even tried because I’ve been too busy trying to process what’s happening inside my head.

I dream of things that I know won’t happen.
I hold  onto sparks of ideas that are possible.
I feels like I’m standing in a tornado, wind whipping my hair across my face, no end in sight.

The best thing I can do for myself in those moments is find people to talk to, who are like safe storm cellars if you will – people who will listen and not judge or jump to conclusions about things.

I mean, I want to post about what’s causing these feelings, but it just doesn’t seem right. I fear all the potential reactions (mainly from family) – the pity, the anger, the judgement, the rejection, the denial, the confusion, the love and support. I know those last two seem like they don’t match the rest, or like they should outweigh all the others. But honestly, when you’ve seen and felt some of the other negative reactions for yourself, the sting of those is more prominent than the positive.

My father’s enormous shame about the adoption has left me in such a painfully difficult spot. I have to keep my social media mostly clear of adoption mentions that someone in the family could possibly think I have a connection to. I can’t participate in things on Instagram because too many of my family members follow me and have absolutely no idea about my daughter’s existence. It almost feels like I would have to create another identity online to be about to expose that part of who I am without having to worry about those reactions.