Tomorrow night 60 minutes will air an interview with Arnold Schwarzenegger regarding his book, "Total Recall" The news around this interview focuses on the "tremendous pain" Arnold inflicted on Maria Shriver and the "unbelievable pain on the kids."
When I read this I don't believe that when he says "kids" he is including the child he fathered with Mildred Baena. I am hopeful when I watch the interview I will be proven wrong and I hope I see a shred of public support for this child, but I'm not optimistic. I've seen these headlines before with John and Elizabeth Edwards.
To be clear, John Edwards is 300 times the slime ball of Arnold. We can draw a lot of lines in comparison but I don't believe Arnold ever went so far as to brainstorm a plan to falsify a DNA test by stealing an infants diaper.
But my little rant here isn't about John or Arnold, it's about Elizabeth and the public outpouring of sympathy to a scorned wife in the absence of support and care for the illegitimate children born to these people.
I don't mean to come across as callous for the heartache that either Elizabeth or Maria endured. Quite the contrary, but to be a realist how many women (and men) have to endure the heartache of infidelity? I'd dare to venture more than half of the general population. In fact, I have been cheated on and even dumped for another woman and I will be the first to admit that event hurt more than I could ever express in words.
But......
it didn't hurt more than being abandoned by my father.
it didn't hurt more than growing up fatherless.
it didn't hurt more than being told by my paternal grandmother that my father would never choose me over his other children.
it didn't hurt more than each and every time my father told me he could never tell his wife and children about me.
it didn't hurt more than learning that the State of Utah had contacted him more than once to establish paternity and he not only dismissed those notices he ran from them.
it didn't hurt more than when he finally told his family about me in an apology email.
and it didn't hurt more than half my paternal siblings rejecting me because I just happened to be their sister rather than a stranger from out of the blue.
So I am hopeful that 60 minutes will put this in the proper perspective but I really don't think that will happen and here is why. What kind of audience wants to hear about the child of an extra-marital affair? The answer is only an audience full of children born to an extra-marital affair.
The majority of the audience this Sunday night will be men and women who either have been cheated on, or feel they might be being cheated on, which I believe is most people. So the message will hinge on Maria's tremendous pain and sacrifice. And for the record, I will feel bad for Maria for what she has gone through.
I will feel worse for Arnold's son. The son he kept in secret. The son he hid from his own siblings. The son that only knows the coldness of the shadow and the limelight that has never been anything but agonizing in it's brightness. The son who by his father's actions has the unfair burden to know definitely what it's like to have a father feel nothing but shame for his very being. To you, young Schwarzenegger, I am sorry and if I could hug you and somehow make all this pain go away, I would.
And I bet you still love your father even though, and I know that everything hurts. I also know it will get better and things will hurt less and less as time goes on, hang in there.
Perhaps someday you will tell your story and perhaps you will call it "True Lies".
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Arnold Schwarzenegger has a new book out
Arnold has written a book about his life and apparently he is going to talk about fathering a child with his housekeeper in part of the book.
My first internal thought was not to buy the book as that would give him positive attention and he doesn't deserve it. My second thought was to buy the book as I would love to know why he did what he did. And so all day I've had this internal conversation about my feelings towards Arnold.
It's interesting to me because at the end of the day I don't really have any negative feelings for Arnold, just curiosity. And when I come to this conclusion, I than think to myself, why do I loathe John Edwards so much?
Why is Arnold not as detestable as John Edwards? It's not a right or left political thing as I tend to lean to the left.
Maybe it's because Arnold seems to have taken more responsibility for his actions than John did, although I can't hardly justify that thought.
Maybe I just want to like Arnold more. Maybe there is familiarity there and I want to understand it so that I can return to loving all those great movies he made.
What I'd really like to see is a book from the secret love-children of celebrities. It must be awfully hard for them, so much so that even with my perspective I can't even imagine.
All I can do is say a prayer for them and hope that Arnold's book lifts up his son and in some measure makes it somehow right by him.
My first internal thought was not to buy the book as that would give him positive attention and he doesn't deserve it. My second thought was to buy the book as I would love to know why he did what he did. And so all day I've had this internal conversation about my feelings towards Arnold.
It's interesting to me because at the end of the day I don't really have any negative feelings for Arnold, just curiosity. And when I come to this conclusion, I than think to myself, why do I loathe John Edwards so much?
Why is Arnold not as detestable as John Edwards? It's not a right or left political thing as I tend to lean to the left.
Maybe it's because Arnold seems to have taken more responsibility for his actions than John did, although I can't hardly justify that thought.
Maybe I just want to like Arnold more. Maybe there is familiarity there and I want to understand it so that I can return to loving all those great movies he made.
What I'd really like to see is a book from the secret love-children of celebrities. It must be awfully hard for them, so much so that even with my perspective I can't even imagine.
All I can do is say a prayer for them and hope that Arnold's book lifts up his son and in some measure makes it somehow right by him.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Do I love my father?
I love my father.
I know I do because when he makes any effort to be a part of my life I like the way I feel. When he shows interest in something I've done, it makes me happy.
I shouldn't love him. It would be easier if I didn't that's for sure.
Maybe that makes me a weak person, but I don't think so. I think it's far easier to lump people in a basket that you label with tags labeled "like", "love", "dislike" or "hate".
I wish I could figure out how to love and forget the past. Actually that's not true, I tried that and when you get hurt by the same behavior you end up feeling stupid for being gullible. So the reality is that I am working through how to love my father when I am still so hurt, angry and un-trusting.
A baby bear in the wild must trust it's mother unequivocally or it will perish. I believe it is that way for us humans too. You can see this when children are abused and mistreated. They still cling to their parent and resent any other authority coming into the home to end the abuse.
So I love my father, because I'm hard-wired to do so.
But there is more. There is a side of my father that is lovely. He can be a wonderful human being and I see it. I know his wife and other children see it too. But those who know my story don't understand how I can see any good in him.
We are all complex creatures. We all have a little bit of rotten in us and a whole lot of good. I think good fortune allows most of us to demonstrate most of our good most of the time. Even with so many disadvantages, I still have lived a sheltered life in the whole of humanity on earth and throughout history. Who am I to judge?
I know I do because when he makes any effort to be a part of my life I like the way I feel. When he shows interest in something I've done, it makes me happy.
I shouldn't love him. It would be easier if I didn't that's for sure.
Maybe that makes me a weak person, but I don't think so. I think it's far easier to lump people in a basket that you label with tags labeled "like", "love", "dislike" or "hate".
I wish I could figure out how to love and forget the past. Actually that's not true, I tried that and when you get hurt by the same behavior you end up feeling stupid for being gullible. So the reality is that I am working through how to love my father when I am still so hurt, angry and un-trusting.
A baby bear in the wild must trust it's mother unequivocally or it will perish. I believe it is that way for us humans too. You can see this when children are abused and mistreated. They still cling to their parent and resent any other authority coming into the home to end the abuse.
So I love my father, because I'm hard-wired to do so.
But there is more. There is a side of my father that is lovely. He can be a wonderful human being and I see it. I know his wife and other children see it too. But those who know my story don't understand how I can see any good in him.
We are all complex creatures. We all have a little bit of rotten in us and a whole lot of good. I think good fortune allows most of us to demonstrate most of our good most of the time. Even with so many disadvantages, I still have lived a sheltered life in the whole of humanity on earth and throughout history. Who am I to judge?
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.
The biggest error I've made in working with my father's family is that I judged my father by his words, when I should have been paying closer attention to his actions.
My father is a pathological liar.
Obviously he lied when he had an affair with my mother. He lied to both my mother and his wife at the time. Than he lied to his children. But the most interesting part of this is he lied to me too. You might be thinking, why is that interesting? Well, the way I saw it is that he never had any reason to lie to me. I knew his darkest secret, I knew his greatest fallacy. And while he never owned up to the truth to even me, he never pretended to me that he didn't conceive me out of wed-lock or that I wasn't anything more than a secret love-child that should be kept a secret. But here is what he told me in a letter that is not dated but written sometime in 1992 when I was just 19,
"Your grandmother _______ called me in March of 1973 to and asked me to see you and your mother at the hospital. I had vowed not to see your mother, you I went to see"
The letter was significant because it also included a letter to my mother. I remembered giving the letter to my mother in 1992. But as the years went by I lost track of a number of letters. Well that's not entirely true, the reality is that in desperate attempts over the years to end the pain of abandonment, I burned many letters from both my father and his mother. I had assumed I burned this letter too. I remember it for not only the significance of it being the only correspondence I've ever known to this date to include both my parents, it also was significant in it's description of how they met and of the loved they shared. It's the only time the story of my conception was painted with a taint of love (albeit a shameful one) rather than just the brush of deceitfulness and awfulness.
So fast forward to 2008, I didn't know where the letter was and now not being nearly as afraid to ask my parents for some of the information of the past I asked the both if either of them remembered the letter. Both my mother and my father swore that no letter was written or received and because now I had realized that there were many stories I had blacked out (such as throwing my father out of my apartment when my daughter was born) that I didn't trust my memories.
As things progressed after my father's confession in 2008 I struggled to finally feel loved and for the most part it just never came. My father would tell me he loved me and I wanted to believe it so I clung to the words, but the bruised side of my heart was reluctant to follow. And so in the back and forth of this dialogue of my father trying to convince me that he loved me was also a struggle he was having to walk a thin line with his wife and children. That narrative was much different than the one in the letter of 1992. The narrative with his other children was that while he had an affair, he never saw me and never had an opportunity to see me until I sought him out in 1992.
And to this effect a very coincidental sequence of events happened. In January of 2012 he sent me an email to lay down the events of history which was that he never saw me and knew nothing of me until I was 19.
Later that night, I had found my only memory box from when I was a child. The box is a large moving box with an odd assortment of stuff thrown in it. It was put together by my step-grandmother and most of the items in the box relate to my step-grandfather's firefighting events. And among those items are a handful of other photos and letters. Every time I see this box I say to myself, I'm going to organize that and figure out what I want and don't want and properly store the things I want to keep. But than I get half-way through the box and the misery of the past is too much I throw the damn thing back under the stairs in worse shape than it was when I started.
This time, as I went through it, I stumbled upon the letter. And now the contradiction of my father's words are in my hand and in my email and are without question indisputable.
These are things I cannot grasp or understand. I suppose he wanted to make me feel better when I was 19 by making up some story that he kept track of me and watched over me. But logically, how does saying, "yeah I saw you as a helpless infant the day you were born but I decided I'd leave anyway" make me feel better. But that's just the point, the lie was never intended to make me feel better. It was always about making him feel better.
So be careful. Pay careful attention to another's actions and their body language and dismiss their words entirely. Especially if you know they are a pathological liar.
~ Matthew 7:20 Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.
Obviously he lied when he had an affair with my mother. He lied to both my mother and his wife at the time. Than he lied to his children. But the most interesting part of this is he lied to me too. You might be thinking, why is that interesting? Well, the way I saw it is that he never had any reason to lie to me. I knew his darkest secret, I knew his greatest fallacy. And while he never owned up to the truth to even me, he never pretended to me that he didn't conceive me out of wed-lock or that I wasn't anything more than a secret love-child that should be kept a secret. But here is what he told me in a letter that is not dated but written sometime in 1992 when I was just 19,
"Your grandmother _______ called me in March of 1973 to and asked me to see you and your mother at the hospital. I had vowed not to see your mother, you I went to see"
The letter was significant because it also included a letter to my mother. I remembered giving the letter to my mother in 1992. But as the years went by I lost track of a number of letters. Well that's not entirely true, the reality is that in desperate attempts over the years to end the pain of abandonment, I burned many letters from both my father and his mother. I had assumed I burned this letter too. I remember it for not only the significance of it being the only correspondence I've ever known to this date to include both my parents, it also was significant in it's description of how they met and of the loved they shared. It's the only time the story of my conception was painted with a taint of love (albeit a shameful one) rather than just the brush of deceitfulness and awfulness.
So fast forward to 2008, I didn't know where the letter was and now not being nearly as afraid to ask my parents for some of the information of the past I asked the both if either of them remembered the letter. Both my mother and my father swore that no letter was written or received and because now I had realized that there were many stories I had blacked out (such as throwing my father out of my apartment when my daughter was born) that I didn't trust my memories.
As things progressed after my father's confession in 2008 I struggled to finally feel loved and for the most part it just never came. My father would tell me he loved me and I wanted to believe it so I clung to the words, but the bruised side of my heart was reluctant to follow. And so in the back and forth of this dialogue of my father trying to convince me that he loved me was also a struggle he was having to walk a thin line with his wife and children. That narrative was much different than the one in the letter of 1992. The narrative with his other children was that while he had an affair, he never saw me and never had an opportunity to see me until I sought him out in 1992.
And to this effect a very coincidental sequence of events happened. In January of 2012 he sent me an email to lay down the events of history which was that he never saw me and knew nothing of me until I was 19.
Later that night, I had found my only memory box from when I was a child. The box is a large moving box with an odd assortment of stuff thrown in it. It was put together by my step-grandmother and most of the items in the box relate to my step-grandfather's firefighting events. And among those items are a handful of other photos and letters. Every time I see this box I say to myself, I'm going to organize that and figure out what I want and don't want and properly store the things I want to keep. But than I get half-way through the box and the misery of the past is too much I throw the damn thing back under the stairs in worse shape than it was when I started.
This time, as I went through it, I stumbled upon the letter. And now the contradiction of my father's words are in my hand and in my email and are without question indisputable.
These are things I cannot grasp or understand. I suppose he wanted to make me feel better when I was 19 by making up some story that he kept track of me and watched over me. But logically, how does saying, "yeah I saw you as a helpless infant the day you were born but I decided I'd leave anyway" make me feel better. But that's just the point, the lie was never intended to make me feel better. It was always about making him feel better.
So be careful. Pay careful attention to another's actions and their body language and dismiss their words entirely. Especially if you know they are a pathological liar.
~ Matthew 7:20 Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
People Like Us
When the previews came out for the movie, People Like Us I became very excited.
The reason for my excitement was that I so much crave someone in the world that can understand what I've been through and also someone that can give me perspective on how my half-siblings feel.
I absolutely loved the movie and I cried my eyes out. I hope my stories help anyone out there who might be going through what I went through. If you have seen the movie, let me know your thoughts.
The reason for my excitement was that I so much crave someone in the world that can understand what I've been through and also someone that can give me perspective on how my half-siblings feel.
I absolutely loved the movie and I cried my eyes out. I hope my stories help anyone out there who might be going through what I went through. If you have seen the movie, let me know your thoughts.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Doctor Appointments
Went to the doctor for a physical the other day. I personally don't like going to the doctor and so I don't do it very often.
That being said, as I sat in the waiting room filling out the typical paperwork of family history I came across the section for my father's family history and for the first time in my life I was able to write more than a giant question mark.
Wow, this is huge I think to myself. And than as I complete the information I realize that I know just as much of my my paternal medical history as I do my maternal medical history, which is to say, it's not a lot.
The truth of the matter is that it was a medical scare that prompted the whole issue with me wanting my dad to come clean. Years ago, a doctor said to me, it would be helpful if we could determine your complete family medical history. And I said, well I could ask that guy that I think is my father what his medical history is. And so I did.
Now it was at this time, I expected Mr. Dad guy to come out and be a little bolder. After-all, I didn't know if he was my dad or not, he never said he was and I was too chicken to just come out and ask. So I composed an email. It said something like this: "Dear _____________, I have a serious medical concern and need to know what my medical history is. Could you please ask around if anyone in your family has ______________."
What I expected in return was something like this: "Dear ___________________, this is serious indeed and you should probably know that I don't think I am your father so I cannot mislead you by saying something different"
What I got was this: "Dear ________________, I asked around and nothing like that in the family. So sorry to hear and hope you get better."
To which I thought, and excuse my language here, "what the f*#!???" I was tired of the vagueness and the chicken approach. This was my life and now I had a serious concern and still this man produced nothing tangible for me to wrap my head around. Enough was enough. So I asked for a paternity test and was told instead we needed to talk and he asked me to call him at some sleazy hotel the following weekend, gross gross gross. OK, it wasn't exactly a sleazy hotel, it was a normal hotel, like a Travel-lodge or something of the sort, but it annoyed me and irritated me to no end that I was regulated to calling him at a hotel. I was not his mistress and I didn't appreciate being reminded of that fact that he needed to keep me hidden.
Well, I am getting off point here. The fact is I didn't call him at that hotel and therefore I didn't get the paternity test I requested and things took an entirely different turn and I will tell you about that in future posts. The post today is about finding out your medical history.
The reality is that when I did get my hands on my complete family history, it didn't solve any riddles or problems. The doctors wrote down what I knew on the little clipboard and than ordered a 100 more test like they always do. (In my business we call this up-selling but that too is a different topic)
The point here is that you are entitled to your medical history. Science is revealing the importance of a medical history and therefore, why should one person have access to theirs and not another? If it matters, it matters and that's the end of the story.
Now this is a loaded statement because it affects both domestic and international adoptions and abandoned children and anonymous sperm donation all as the same. And the good-hearted mothers and fathers that choose adoption have my respect and admiration and I don't ever want to advocate a position that impedes on the adoption process because adoptions are right and good by nature.
Also I want to share that my medical history didn't really solve anything. So it matters, but if you can't find yours, that's okay too. The medical history is just an attempt to find a clue to what might ail you, but as I learned, that by itself it doesn't answer any questions or solve any medical mysterious.
If you've read previous posts than you know my reunion with my paternal family hasn't been exactly a warm homecoming. It's been an agonizing experience that I would hesitate to recommend for anyone. But it was a necessary experience and if you are facing this choice, I will tell you that I am grateful this experience is now in my past. I am also grateful I had the patience and composure of a 35 year old woman and with the benefit of hindsight, I can acknowledge that I was much too insecure at any time prior in my life to willingly go into such a negative experience.
And I am grateful that the question mark is no longer part of my medical history.
That being said, as I sat in the waiting room filling out the typical paperwork of family history I came across the section for my father's family history and for the first time in my life I was able to write more than a giant question mark.
Wow, this is huge I think to myself. And than as I complete the information I realize that I know just as much of my my paternal medical history as I do my maternal medical history, which is to say, it's not a lot.
The truth of the matter is that it was a medical scare that prompted the whole issue with me wanting my dad to come clean. Years ago, a doctor said to me, it would be helpful if we could determine your complete family medical history. And I said, well I could ask that guy that I think is my father what his medical history is. And so I did.
Now it was at this time, I expected Mr. Dad guy to come out and be a little bolder. After-all, I didn't know if he was my dad or not, he never said he was and I was too chicken to just come out and ask. So I composed an email. It said something like this: "Dear _____________, I have a serious medical concern and need to know what my medical history is. Could you please ask around if anyone in your family has ______________."
What I expected in return was something like this: "Dear ___________________, this is serious indeed and you should probably know that I don't think I am your father so I cannot mislead you by saying something different"
What I got was this: "Dear ________________, I asked around and nothing like that in the family. So sorry to hear and hope you get better."
To which I thought, and excuse my language here, "what the f*#!???" I was tired of the vagueness and the chicken approach. This was my life and now I had a serious concern and still this man produced nothing tangible for me to wrap my head around. Enough was enough. So I asked for a paternity test and was told instead we needed to talk and he asked me to call him at some sleazy hotel the following weekend, gross gross gross. OK, it wasn't exactly a sleazy hotel, it was a normal hotel, like a Travel-lodge or something of the sort, but it annoyed me and irritated me to no end that I was regulated to calling him at a hotel. I was not his mistress and I didn't appreciate being reminded of that fact that he needed to keep me hidden.
Well, I am getting off point here. The fact is I didn't call him at that hotel and therefore I didn't get the paternity test I requested and things took an entirely different turn and I will tell you about that in future posts. The post today is about finding out your medical history.
The reality is that when I did get my hands on my complete family history, it didn't solve any riddles or problems. The doctors wrote down what I knew on the little clipboard and than ordered a 100 more test like they always do. (In my business we call this up-selling but that too is a different topic)
The point here is that you are entitled to your medical history. Science is revealing the importance of a medical history and therefore, why should one person have access to theirs and not another? If it matters, it matters and that's the end of the story.
Now this is a loaded statement because it affects both domestic and international adoptions and abandoned children and anonymous sperm donation all as the same. And the good-hearted mothers and fathers that choose adoption have my respect and admiration and I don't ever want to advocate a position that impedes on the adoption process because adoptions are right and good by nature.
Also I want to share that my medical history didn't really solve anything. So it matters, but if you can't find yours, that's okay too. The medical history is just an attempt to find a clue to what might ail you, but as I learned, that by itself it doesn't answer any questions or solve any medical mysterious.
If you've read previous posts than you know my reunion with my paternal family hasn't been exactly a warm homecoming. It's been an agonizing experience that I would hesitate to recommend for anyone. But it was a necessary experience and if you are facing this choice, I will tell you that I am grateful this experience is now in my past. I am also grateful I had the patience and composure of a 35 year old woman and with the benefit of hindsight, I can acknowledge that I was much too insecure at any time prior in my life to willingly go into such a negative experience.
And I am grateful that the question mark is no longer part of my medical history.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Being Friends on Facebook
Oh what a Pandora box Facebook is.
My father's confession to his family about having an illegitimate love child from an extra-martial affair was in the Spring of 2008. I joined Facebook in the fall of that year.
I remember my older sister tried to explain Myspace to me when she first spoke to me. She said I could find her profile and learn all about her. I remember thinking that was weird. Than one day later in year someone explained social networking as a 24/7 party and I was instantly converted, been a Facebook junkie ever since.
How grateful I am that my father confessed prior to the Facebook becoming so mainstream. I am grateful beyond measure that I was lucky enough to have this secret out before I was tempted to go searching for my family via Facebook pages.
That being said, this introduction to my paternal family in a world that was simultaneously discovering how to use Facebook hasn't been without some difficulty.
The first heartache come in early 2009. My father had told his children about me in the spring of the year prior. A number of my sisters reached out to me instantly and even my father's wife was willing to spend a day with me at a truck stop diner. So in same ways things were moving along surprisingly well.
And than there were the others. My brothers and one sister remained very aloof and their aloofness hurt more than words can describe.
Their unwillingness to accept me and love me was the fear that held me back for those 16 years my father kept me hidden. I had let others convince me that my siblings were better off not even knowing I was alive and I believed that for 16 years and now they were clinging to each other and all the while rejecting me and it was my worst fear being magnified and amplified at every event.
There was the cruise my father took his wife and "kids" on in the late summer of 2008. I was not invited and I'm sure from anyone else perspective, that made sense. For me, I was either my father's daughter or I wasn't and if I was, shouldn't I have been invited and if I wasn't shouldn't he just come out and say that I wasn't. Than there were family picnics and family birthdays and family reunions and the worst part of all, there was Christmas.
For someone who spent many many holidays alone, the holidays were just crushing in their cruelty. All the symbolism of family and forgiveness and love and the message of Christ. And you can't go around acting like Scrooge. So you smile and you learn to hide your loneliness and you go home and you cry your eyes out.
So when my sister sent me a Facebook friend request that January, I made a mistake and I rejected her. I told her that I didn't care for the abuse she and my brothers had dolled out on me and that Facebook was no place for two people who are supposed to be sisters to get to know each other.
She waited until Valentine's day to lash out at me for my response. And to really hammer in the message of her having a loving family to spend holidays with, our mutual brother lashed out shortly after. CCing everyone in their family. I was crushed again that they couldn't see my perspective and even more hurt that they had each other. My husband did his best to comfort me, but needless to say, our romantic night out on Valentine's day was ruined when I made the stupid error of looking at my phone and seeing a message from my sister who had never sent me a message prior to this.
A few weeks later my sister's mother called me, she told me I was stupid and that I should apologize to my sister, she also told me she didn't ever want to see my "ugly" face and then she hung up on me.
Ugh, what awful memories. So back to Facebook.
After some time (a few years) had gone by and I realized that my sister was in fact trying in the only way she knew how, which was to send a friend request on Facebook, that perhaps I should have been more open to her way of reaching out. So I sent all my siblings a friend request and to her specifically, I included a note that said I would understand if she didn't accept.
Now what I believe to be about a year after my Facebook reach out, my brother has accepted my friend request. I wish I knew why.
Is it because he wants to get to know me? Does he think about me and wonder what my life was like in the same way I think about him and wonder what his life is like? Is it just a means to show he is trying when he doesn't want anything to do with me? Is it because of the upcoming wedding where he believes he will see me? Are his intentions good and kind?
I wish so much we could just talk, but I'm afraid to call him and so I will see him at the wedding (and the others) and my heart will pound with fear and I'll want to run and hide and I'll be under scrutiny for those that want to prove I'm out for no good and also for those that want to protect my feelings. I will do my best to pretend things are normal but will feel like a thousands pounds are on my shoulder. Meanwhile, those that love me will watch for a moment to rise to the occasion and say defensive words on my behalf and that of course will just make everything worse.
So what's a girl to do.....
Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I'll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day
My father's confession to his family about having an illegitimate love child from an extra-martial affair was in the Spring of 2008. I joined Facebook in the fall of that year.
I remember my older sister tried to explain Myspace to me when she first spoke to me. She said I could find her profile and learn all about her. I remember thinking that was weird. Than one day later in year someone explained social networking as a 24/7 party and I was instantly converted, been a Facebook junkie ever since.
How grateful I am that my father confessed prior to the Facebook becoming so mainstream. I am grateful beyond measure that I was lucky enough to have this secret out before I was tempted to go searching for my family via Facebook pages.
That being said, this introduction to my paternal family in a world that was simultaneously discovering how to use Facebook hasn't been without some difficulty.
The first heartache come in early 2009. My father had told his children about me in the spring of the year prior. A number of my sisters reached out to me instantly and even my father's wife was willing to spend a day with me at a truck stop diner. So in same ways things were moving along surprisingly well.
And than there were the others. My brothers and one sister remained very aloof and their aloofness hurt more than words can describe.
Their unwillingness to accept me and love me was the fear that held me back for those 16 years my father kept me hidden. I had let others convince me that my siblings were better off not even knowing I was alive and I believed that for 16 years and now they were clinging to each other and all the while rejecting me and it was my worst fear being magnified and amplified at every event.
There was the cruise my father took his wife and "kids" on in the late summer of 2008. I was not invited and I'm sure from anyone else perspective, that made sense. For me, I was either my father's daughter or I wasn't and if I was, shouldn't I have been invited and if I wasn't shouldn't he just come out and say that I wasn't. Than there were family picnics and family birthdays and family reunions and the worst part of all, there was Christmas.
For someone who spent many many holidays alone, the holidays were just crushing in their cruelty. All the symbolism of family and forgiveness and love and the message of Christ. And you can't go around acting like Scrooge. So you smile and you learn to hide your loneliness and you go home and you cry your eyes out.
So when my sister sent me a Facebook friend request that January, I made a mistake and I rejected her. I told her that I didn't care for the abuse she and my brothers had dolled out on me and that Facebook was no place for two people who are supposed to be sisters to get to know each other.
She waited until Valentine's day to lash out at me for my response. And to really hammer in the message of her having a loving family to spend holidays with, our mutual brother lashed out shortly after. CCing everyone in their family. I was crushed again that they couldn't see my perspective and even more hurt that they had each other. My husband did his best to comfort me, but needless to say, our romantic night out on Valentine's day was ruined when I made the stupid error of looking at my phone and seeing a message from my sister who had never sent me a message prior to this.
A few weeks later my sister's mother called me, she told me I was stupid and that I should apologize to my sister, she also told me she didn't ever want to see my "ugly" face and then she hung up on me.
Ugh, what awful memories. So back to Facebook.
After some time (a few years) had gone by and I realized that my sister was in fact trying in the only way she knew how, which was to send a friend request on Facebook, that perhaps I should have been more open to her way of reaching out. So I sent all my siblings a friend request and to her specifically, I included a note that said I would understand if she didn't accept.
Now what I believe to be about a year after my Facebook reach out, my brother has accepted my friend request. I wish I knew why.
Is it because he wants to get to know me? Does he think about me and wonder what my life was like in the same way I think about him and wonder what his life is like? Is it just a means to show he is trying when he doesn't want anything to do with me? Is it because of the upcoming wedding where he believes he will see me? Are his intentions good and kind?
I wish so much we could just talk, but I'm afraid to call him and so I will see him at the wedding (and the others) and my heart will pound with fear and I'll want to run and hide and I'll be under scrutiny for those that want to prove I'm out for no good and also for those that want to protect my feelings. I will do my best to pretend things are normal but will feel like a thousands pounds are on my shoulder. Meanwhile, those that love me will watch for a moment to rise to the occasion and say defensive words on my behalf and that of course will just make everything worse.
So what's a girl to do.....
Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I'll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day
Monday, September 10, 2012
About my parents...
This blog is about my dad, his family and my story of learning about them. So I've been wanting to write a post to tell you about my father, but it seems I can't do that without telling you about my mother too.
It seems to me that once two people have a child, whether that child is planned or accidental, wanted or unwanted, those two people become one in perspective of the child. I can not tell you about my dad, why I didn't know him and why he left without also telling you about my mother.
My mother belongs to a generation and a culture that was in transition. Her generation and culture was one where the woman was dependent on a man to provide for her and to that end, any means to secure a man to provide for her was considered fair game. That is how she was raised and that was how she coached my sister in I when we were young girls. In my mother's viewpoint, it was a woman's responsibility to please her man and keep him at home and as young adults she would remind me and my sister of our womanly duties regularly.
As far as the transition reference, I was born in the early 70's or at the beginning of a woman's right movement where woman started to get much more focal with their rights, especially their maternal rights. A movement was started and I believe still underway that implies if a woman wants to have a child, she has that choice and the man's sole contribution is to provide the batter for this recipe and in an ideal world a child support check.
Now this doesn't mean to excuse my father. He on the other hand had a casual affair with my mother and never ever intended to pay the piper for his momentary lack of judgement. For the purposes of my father I liken his actions to that of a drunk driver who runs over a person in the dead of night and instead of doing what is right, chooses a selfish course of action that tears though the lives of so many for years and years to come.
So my mother was doing her best to secure a financial future for herself and her two other children falls for a guy who probably hinted of a wonderful fantasy life. My father was having a little fun and a child was conceived. My mother, angry and hurt tells my father to go to hell and he, desperate for any excuse to pack his family up and leave the state, gladly accepted.
So what's a girl to do, hate my parents for these actions? Forgive them and pretend this never happened? The reality is that I know just as well as anyone about making mistakes. I've made bad choices in my life that hurt others, granted probably not to the extent of my parents, but one could argue that was more dumb luck than moral compass at work. For example, I have gotten behind the wheel of a car when I was drunk and admittedly more than once. A decision that torments me in the "what if" category. I am really so high and mighty as to deny understanding that while in their early 20's my parents made a few bad decisions?
But than there is the following years of bad decisions where for their own personal comfort, they both just decided that it was better that I didn't get to have a dad. But it doesn't stop there, some of my grand-parents also went along with this. I've been told that my step-grand-father threatened my father to leave me alone. My paternal grandmother shows me a photo of my dad's family when I was 19 years old and says to me, "who do you think he is going to choose, you or these seven children" and with that she didn't mention my name to anyone in her family for 16 years.
My husband's wife received letters from the state of Utah regarding steps to establish my paternity and no action was ever taken after that. My mother told me I would never find my dad, that the state had spent years and years looking for him, it took me less than 2 hours of work to locate my father.
I have come to believe that society as a whole decided that it was okay for me to grow up without a father. Our culture is moving in a direction that downplays the role and value of men and fathers and than we all scratch our heads when the rate of fatherless homes rises. We (the United States) allow young men to sell their sperm under anonymous terms creating thousands and thousands of babies who will never know their paternal DNA.
We send posts around in facebook raving about women and mothers and more posts about the stupidity of men, i.e. "you know how men are." We commonly deny fathers any rights or privileges in custody and divorce battles and than wonder why young men don't want to be more involved fathers.
And I can tell you that there is no consequence to my father for his actions. He doesn't owe me anything in the eyes of the law or anyone else as far as I can tell.
In my father eyes, he has paid the piper. He had to tell his wife and his children, his parents, his siblings and even his church. He was almost ex-communicated, although I believe all his church status has since been restored, being a non-member, those things are really not communicated with me. So you see, as far as my father sees it, he has paid dearly for his transgression.
So what do I want? What would make me whole?
The answer, it's the same as it ever was. I want to be loved and accepted and I thought when he told his family about me, they would love and accept me, but that didn't happen. And because it didn't happen, I'm now angry and hurt that even if I was accepted and loved whole-heartily by my paternal siblings and my father, would I allow that love in? I just don't know anymore.
It seems to me that once two people have a child, whether that child is planned or accidental, wanted or unwanted, those two people become one in perspective of the child. I can not tell you about my dad, why I didn't know him and why he left without also telling you about my mother.
My mother belongs to a generation and a culture that was in transition. Her generation and culture was one where the woman was dependent on a man to provide for her and to that end, any means to secure a man to provide for her was considered fair game. That is how she was raised and that was how she coached my sister in I when we were young girls. In my mother's viewpoint, it was a woman's responsibility to please her man and keep him at home and as young adults she would remind me and my sister of our womanly duties regularly.
As far as the transition reference, I was born in the early 70's or at the beginning of a woman's right movement where woman started to get much more focal with their rights, especially their maternal rights. A movement was started and I believe still underway that implies if a woman wants to have a child, she has that choice and the man's sole contribution is to provide the batter for this recipe and in an ideal world a child support check.
Now this doesn't mean to excuse my father. He on the other hand had a casual affair with my mother and never ever intended to pay the piper for his momentary lack of judgement. For the purposes of my father I liken his actions to that of a drunk driver who runs over a person in the dead of night and instead of doing what is right, chooses a selfish course of action that tears though the lives of so many for years and years to come.
So my mother was doing her best to secure a financial future for herself and her two other children falls for a guy who probably hinted of a wonderful fantasy life. My father was having a little fun and a child was conceived. My mother, angry and hurt tells my father to go to hell and he, desperate for any excuse to pack his family up and leave the state, gladly accepted.
So what's a girl to do, hate my parents for these actions? Forgive them and pretend this never happened? The reality is that I know just as well as anyone about making mistakes. I've made bad choices in my life that hurt others, granted probably not to the extent of my parents, but one could argue that was more dumb luck than moral compass at work. For example, I have gotten behind the wheel of a car when I was drunk and admittedly more than once. A decision that torments me in the "what if" category. I am really so high and mighty as to deny understanding that while in their early 20's my parents made a few bad decisions?
But than there is the following years of bad decisions where for their own personal comfort, they both just decided that it was better that I didn't get to have a dad. But it doesn't stop there, some of my grand-parents also went along with this. I've been told that my step-grand-father threatened my father to leave me alone. My paternal grandmother shows me a photo of my dad's family when I was 19 years old and says to me, "who do you think he is going to choose, you or these seven children" and with that she didn't mention my name to anyone in her family for 16 years.
My husband's wife received letters from the state of Utah regarding steps to establish my paternity and no action was ever taken after that. My mother told me I would never find my dad, that the state had spent years and years looking for him, it took me less than 2 hours of work to locate my father.
I have come to believe that society as a whole decided that it was okay for me to grow up without a father. Our culture is moving in a direction that downplays the role and value of men and fathers and than we all scratch our heads when the rate of fatherless homes rises. We (the United States) allow young men to sell their sperm under anonymous terms creating thousands and thousands of babies who will never know their paternal DNA.
We send posts around in facebook raving about women and mothers and more posts about the stupidity of men, i.e. "you know how men are." We commonly deny fathers any rights or privileges in custody and divorce battles and than wonder why young men don't want to be more involved fathers.
And I can tell you that there is no consequence to my father for his actions. He doesn't owe me anything in the eyes of the law or anyone else as far as I can tell.
In my father eyes, he has paid the piper. He had to tell his wife and his children, his parents, his siblings and even his church. He was almost ex-communicated, although I believe all his church status has since been restored, being a non-member, those things are really not communicated with me. So you see, as far as my father sees it, he has paid dearly for his transgression.
So what do I want? What would make me whole?
The answer, it's the same as it ever was. I want to be loved and accepted and I thought when he told his family about me, they would love and accept me, but that didn't happen. And because it didn't happen, I'm now angry and hurt that even if I was accepted and loved whole-heartily by my paternal siblings and my father, would I allow that love in? I just don't know anymore.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
The Temple Marriage
My youngest sister is getting married and since my younger sister is a practicing Mormon that means the ceremony will be in an LDS temple.
For anyone not familiar with a Mormon temple marriage I will tell you the little bit I know and bear in mind since I'm not one of the faithful, my understandings might not be spot on. The most important thing to know is that as a non-member I cannot attend this wedding. The only people allowed in the temple are those that have a temple recommend from their bishop. One receives a temple recommend by living and observing the teachings of the LDS church.
As a Mormon this ceremony seals you and your husband (and all the children of that marriage) together for all of eternity. So it's a pretty big deal to the faithful.
I'm happy for my sister that she may have this ceremony that is so intimate a part of her faith. But I won't be attending this part of the wedding. Wait a sec, you are probably thinking, you just said you cannot go. Well I can wait outside in the gardens with the other non-faithfuls.
So here is the scene. My father and his wife and all their children who are forever sealed to them will go and take part of this beautiful and magical event. Me, the illegitimate child who was abandoned before birth by my father, denied for the entirety of my childhood and keep a secret for 16 of my adult years, who than later was flat out rejected and slandered by half my paternal half-siblings, I can wait outside of the sacred building reserved only for the righteous. Ouch...
It has always bothered me that my father carried on with his religious hypocrisy, even more so was the hurt knowing that not only was my physical being so easily discarded but this lack of regard for my spiritual well being.
Like I said before, I don't know or understand he teachings of the LDS church or the details of their sacred temple ceremonies. But for the sake of following this through, imagine that everyone died before my fathers confession, where in the structure of the afterlife is the bastard child born out of the temple marriage? Would my paternal siblings have flocked on the other side of the gates of heaven while I was barred entrance because I grew up with teachings of a different church?
My father talks of going to hell and perhaps that is true. I don't believe it. My religious teaching is that we are all equally undeserving, so my fathers transgressions in the eyes of God are no different than my transgressions. So my view is we all go to heaven, end of story. But if my father believes what he says he believes, how could he have done what he did? And that is the question that will never be answered.
So no, I won't stand outside any gates or walls. I will instead reserve my attendance for events that are all inclusive.
For anyone not familiar with a Mormon temple marriage I will tell you the little bit I know and bear in mind since I'm not one of the faithful, my understandings might not be spot on. The most important thing to know is that as a non-member I cannot attend this wedding. The only people allowed in the temple are those that have a temple recommend from their bishop. One receives a temple recommend by living and observing the teachings of the LDS church.
As a Mormon this ceremony seals you and your husband (and all the children of that marriage) together for all of eternity. So it's a pretty big deal to the faithful.
I'm happy for my sister that she may have this ceremony that is so intimate a part of her faith. But I won't be attending this part of the wedding. Wait a sec, you are probably thinking, you just said you cannot go. Well I can wait outside in the gardens with the other non-faithfuls.
So here is the scene. My father and his wife and all their children who are forever sealed to them will go and take part of this beautiful and magical event. Me, the illegitimate child who was abandoned before birth by my father, denied for the entirety of my childhood and keep a secret for 16 of my adult years, who than later was flat out rejected and slandered by half my paternal half-siblings, I can wait outside of the sacred building reserved only for the righteous. Ouch...
It has always bothered me that my father carried on with his religious hypocrisy, even more so was the hurt knowing that not only was my physical being so easily discarded but this lack of regard for my spiritual well being.
Like I said before, I don't know or understand he teachings of the LDS church or the details of their sacred temple ceremonies. But for the sake of following this through, imagine that everyone died before my fathers confession, where in the structure of the afterlife is the bastard child born out of the temple marriage? Would my paternal siblings have flocked on the other side of the gates of heaven while I was barred entrance because I grew up with teachings of a different church?
My father talks of going to hell and perhaps that is true. I don't believe it. My religious teaching is that we are all equally undeserving, so my fathers transgressions in the eyes of God are no different than my transgressions. So my view is we all go to heaven, end of story. But if my father believes what he says he believes, how could he have done what he did? And that is the question that will never be answered.
So no, I won't stand outside any gates or walls. I will instead reserve my attendance for events that are all inclusive.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The upcoming wedding..
My youngest sister is getting married next month. Which means a family event. Which means I will see my father, his wife and I believe all their seven children, plus their foster kids which puts the total at 8 to 12 siblings depending how you count them.
My father conveys to me that if I would just stop being so emotional and come to family gatherings that all would accept me in time. What a bunch of shit that is.
I say this because upon learning of a half-sister, my brother, just two months my senior sent a notice to his entire family with specific instructions to never invite me to family gatherings and force others in said family to have to interact with me.
Dolly Pardon has a line in the movie 9 to 5 where she says, "I don't understand it, I'm just as nice as I can be to everyone at that office and they still treat me like a bastard at a family reunion."
Well this bastard just bought a pretty dress for the reunion. To those not willing to accept me, all I can say is who cares anyway, and also I say, "please God help me get through this."
My father conveys to me that if I would just stop being so emotional and come to family gatherings that all would accept me in time. What a bunch of shit that is.
I say this because upon learning of a half-sister, my brother, just two months my senior sent a notice to his entire family with specific instructions to never invite me to family gatherings and force others in said family to have to interact with me.
Dolly Pardon has a line in the movie 9 to 5 where she says, "I don't understand it, I'm just as nice as I can be to everyone at that office and they still treat me like a bastard at a family reunion."
Well this bastard just bought a pretty dress for the reunion. To those not willing to accept me, all I can say is who cares anyway, and also I say, "please God help me get through this."
Friday, September 7, 2012
Revenge or love?
Shortly after my father told his family about me I learned that some of my half siblings were debating my intentions and the methods of which I would enact my revenge.
I was dumbfounded. Revenge? I didn't want revenge, I wanted to be a part of my family. I wanted to be reunited with my siblings the same way the ugly duckling is embraced by the flock of swans. I envisioned that when my siblings learned of me they would want to dance with me in a field of wild flowers like the bee girl in the music video by Sublime.
Some, certainly not all of my siblings instead became fearful. They accused me almost instantly of trying to tear apart the family and warned each other to be watchful of my hidden agenda.
I wrestled with this notion from every perspective, I couldn't understand how they could not empathize with me and feel sorrowful that I was left alone, without them. Now, years later and with a lot of reading and therapy sessions, I have learned why they are or were so fearful. Now I understand that when you are raised under the pretext of a lie, you can't help but to grow up feeling very insecure that life isn't what you think it is and that insecurity presents itself in the most insidious means.
It was impossible for me to see the situation as if I were the lucky one, but in many ways I was. I always knew, from the time I was born that my father had no intention of being my father. It was one of my first memories. On the other hand, my half siblings were raised by a pious LDS return missionary who raised them to be reflections of Jesus Christ. Certainly this man was not the type of man who would have an affair and than deny his own child.
But that was years ago, and still some cast me aside, or at least that is what it feels like. So today, as I write this I ask myself, what is my intention? Is it revenge?
I check my emotions and certainly there is anger still there no matter how I try to reason it away. There is heartbreak and extreme sadness for the words that have been directed at me and even my children and husband. There is apathy for persons who are so indifferent to someone that had an unfair start when it could have been any one of them cast aside instead of me. But there is also love and hope. Hope that someday I might not only be accepted but that I also might be loved.
So is this blog about revenge? No, I don't believe that is my intention. And even if it were, what would revenge look like? Banishment from your family? Because I know what that feels like, it is impossible for me to wish that on anyone.
I would like to think this blog is not for me but for others out there. Those souls who have been led to believe that they don't matter because their parents cast them aside or ran from them or hid them in a figurative attic.
You do matter. It's not your fault that you were born and you deserved to be loved, if not by your birth family than at least by someone like myself who can demonstrate that love by letting you know you are not alone.
I was dumbfounded. Revenge? I didn't want revenge, I wanted to be a part of my family. I wanted to be reunited with my siblings the same way the ugly duckling is embraced by the flock of swans. I envisioned that when my siblings learned of me they would want to dance with me in a field of wild flowers like the bee girl in the music video by Sublime.
Some, certainly not all of my siblings instead became fearful. They accused me almost instantly of trying to tear apart the family and warned each other to be watchful of my hidden agenda.
I wrestled with this notion from every perspective, I couldn't understand how they could not empathize with me and feel sorrowful that I was left alone, without them. Now, years later and with a lot of reading and therapy sessions, I have learned why they are or were so fearful. Now I understand that when you are raised under the pretext of a lie, you can't help but to grow up feeling very insecure that life isn't what you think it is and that insecurity presents itself in the most insidious means.
It was impossible for me to see the situation as if I were the lucky one, but in many ways I was. I always knew, from the time I was born that my father had no intention of being my father. It was one of my first memories. On the other hand, my half siblings were raised by a pious LDS return missionary who raised them to be reflections of Jesus Christ. Certainly this man was not the type of man who would have an affair and than deny his own child.
But that was years ago, and still some cast me aside, or at least that is what it feels like. So today, as I write this I ask myself, what is my intention? Is it revenge?
I check my emotions and certainly there is anger still there no matter how I try to reason it away. There is heartbreak and extreme sadness for the words that have been directed at me and even my children and husband. There is apathy for persons who are so indifferent to someone that had an unfair start when it could have been any one of them cast aside instead of me. But there is also love and hope. Hope that someday I might not only be accepted but that I also might be loved.
So is this blog about revenge? No, I don't believe that is my intention. And even if it were, what would revenge look like? Banishment from your family? Because I know what that feels like, it is impossible for me to wish that on anyone.
I would like to think this blog is not for me but for others out there. Those souls who have been led to believe that they don't matter because their parents cast them aside or ran from them or hid them in a figurative attic.
You do matter. It's not your fault that you were born and you deserved to be loved, if not by your birth family than at least by someone like myself who can demonstrate that love by letting you know you are not alone.
Learning to be a little braver
I have a story to tell. It's the story of finding my biological father and the 16 year quest to encourage him to tell his family about me.
I have been reluctant to tell my story because regardless of what I tell myself, I am ashamed of the story. I'm embarrassed that I don't come from a quote-unquote "Good Family". I'm sorry for my parents that I was conceived. I'm sad that my birth announcement, shared months after my 35th birthday, was a regretful confession of a fallen man. I feel bad for my mother for how lonely it all must have been on the day I was born. And I'm angry for being tasked with the shame of my parents extra martial affair.
I am telling my story because all of othe feelings above are wrong. And it's time I embraced my roots and gave permission for others unlucky enough like me to be "illegitimate" persons to stand and say, I matter and I am not ashamed for being born.
My story is worth telling because it is about love, mistakes, acceptance and forgiveness. I'm going to to do my best and be honest with you about my mistakes and my shortcomings and I am going to do my best to tell you about the ways I was received and rejected by my members of my paternal family and do my best to stay true to loving principles at the same time.
My paternal half brother once said to me, "You need to understand how difficult it is to see your face, the living representation of a lie."
At the time those words were spoken, I was too stunned and hurt to even know what to say. I've reflected a lot about those words and my very being. What I have come to realize is that my face isn't the representation of a lie at all, but rather a representation of a truth. Cogito Ergo sum.
I have been reluctant to tell my story because regardless of what I tell myself, I am ashamed of the story. I'm embarrassed that I don't come from a quote-unquote "Good Family". I'm sorry for my parents that I was conceived. I'm sad that my birth announcement, shared months after my 35th birthday, was a regretful confession of a fallen man. I feel bad for my mother for how lonely it all must have been on the day I was born. And I'm angry for being tasked with the shame of my parents extra martial affair.
I am telling my story because all of othe feelings above are wrong. And it's time I embraced my roots and gave permission for others unlucky enough like me to be "illegitimate" persons to stand and say, I matter and I am not ashamed for being born.
My story is worth telling because it is about love, mistakes, acceptance and forgiveness. I'm going to to do my best and be honest with you about my mistakes and my shortcomings and I am going to do my best to tell you about the ways I was received and rejected by my members of my paternal family and do my best to stay true to loving principles at the same time.
My paternal half brother once said to me, "You need to understand how difficult it is to see your face, the living representation of a lie."
At the time those words were spoken, I was too stunned and hurt to even know what to say. I've reflected a lot about those words and my very being. What I have come to realize is that my face isn't the representation of a lie at all, but rather a representation of a truth. Cogito Ergo sum.
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