Photos Of Adoption

This is for the Grown In My Heart Blog Carnival.  If you’d like to share just head right there and they’ll hook you up.

Me, I’d love to share.  But I don’t have much.  Being adopted and all.  Here’s a pic of my mom as a child…

That’s her standing in the middle.

Here’s a photo of me at about the same age…


That’s all I got.



Too Much Sugar?

Something was brought up  about conversations with your inner child not long ago.  I hate that shit.  What in the world would I have to say to my inner child?  I can just imagine how that conversation would go.

Big Me:  Hey, how’s it going?

Inner Child:  Do you have any pixie sticks?  I like Pixie Sticks?

Big Me:  Fresh out of Pixie Sticks, sorry.

Inner Child:  I like Pixie Sticks, just not the grape ones.

Big Me:  I’ll keep that in mind. Are you getting along alright?

Inner Child:  I hate Kathy.  She has a doll house with lights that work, all I have is a piece of shit Fisher-Price doll house.  I want a Barbie House too.

Big Me: Do you ever think about anything serious?

Inner Child: This is serious.

Big Me:  How so?

Inner Child:  I have my needs to think about.

Big Me: It won’t make any difference in 20 years.

Inner Child: It makes a difference now.  I’ll think about serious stuff when I get older.  Right now I want a Pixie Stick and a decent doll house.  Alright?

Big Me:  Alright.

I believe that you never know when you are in the middle of something until it’s over.  When I was a child I didn’t have a reference point to know what was going on.  I can’t go back and change anything.  Then as now, all I’ve got is mt experience up until this moment.  For all I know I’m fucking up royally at this very moment.

The only difference between then and now is that now I feel I have some responsibility for my actions.  I have more experience.  Back then I was pretty much flying by the seat of my pants.  I can’t change that.  There are no do-overs in life.  If there were we would never get anywhere.

Can you imagine actually being able to go back to childhood knowing what you know now?  How would you deal with knowing that your best friend in the first grade was going to die of a drug overdose in her late twenties, that your uncle was going to get lung cancer, or your dog was going to get hit in the road?  Even if you could stop these things, could you actually pick a better path for yourself?  I not sure that I wouldn’t be more conflicted, and as a result really screw things up, if I had that kind of knowledge.  Imagine the pressure.

I wouldn’t want to go through life considering every move based on where I find myself now.  As I said before, you never really know how you’re doing at the moment anyway.  I could fuck things up way worse.

I’m going to go and have a Pixie Stick now.

Don’t Call Me Names-Grown In My Heart Blog Carnival

It’s blog carnival time again, Join in right here….

I know you have something to say about this.

I was a willing participant in a campaign of disinformation.

That’s complicated way of saying, I lied.

But did I, really?

I’ve told you my name.  It’s not the one I sign checks with, but it’s the one that was given me at birth.

Does that mean you don’t know me?

Certainly not, when I’m here, I’m Melanie.  I’m just somebody else most of the time.  We’re both real.  One of us just got lost for about 30 years.  You can’t blame me, they told me I was someone else.  I believed them.  I didn’t have any reason to doubt.  I didn’t even know that I had another name.

I wonder why they didn’t tell me?

Did they think it would hurt me?

Did they think that she was still in there and might come out at the mention of it?  That was good thinking.  Birth names are like magic words.  Knowing just that one little thing can change everything.

I knew I was someone before I was adopted.  I knew that I didn’t start to exist when the adoption papers were signed.

I was real.

Does changing the name of something make it any less what is was before?


It changed me.  I wasn’t what I was before.  I was something different.  It was far from inconsequential.  But it didn’t change who I had been.

She was real.

What am I now?

I don’t really know.