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

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

http://blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=pickel&postid=07Oct2009&meme=3616

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?

Maybe.

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.

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Blog Carnival On Friday…

..and anyone can contribute.

Would you like to let folks know  10 THINGS I WISH I (OR MY PARENTS) HAD KNOWN BEFORE I WAS TOUCHED BY ADOPTION?

I thought so.

Just link up here on Friday.

Stay tuned.

I’m Horrifying Adoptive Parents Again..

..over at Grown In My Heart.

It’s Sex and Drugs and Dear Birthmother letters for me this time.

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Alternatives To Violence

Being an adoptee can make you want to throttle everyone you meet sometimes, but you just can’t do that. Read more about it here….

Melanie’s bitchy post at Grown In My Heart

To anyone that might take offense, I was talking about someone else.  Really.  I was.

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In The Den Of Theives

Here I’ve gone and wandered off again.  For those of you who know me, I’m sure you are not surprised.  If you want to read about my further adventures in Adopteeland you can check me out here.

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Grown In My Heart

Yeah, yeah, I know, thew place is lousy with adoptive parents.  Relax, Claudia is over there too.  Please direct all complaints to the comments section where they will be ignored.

I’ll still be here.  Let’s face it, there are just somethings that I can’t really say anywhere else.

Like this…

Somebody told me that I didn’t look like an adoptee the other day.

What the heck is an adoptee supposed to look like?

I have a feeling I know.

I think I don’t look like an adoptee because I’m much too tall.  We are supposed to be big eyed waifs looking up to the world for help.  Like this…

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Well we are not supposed to be so furry, but you get it.

You will notice that the kitten isn’t very tall and could easily be trod upon.

Once you look like it might be a problem to squash, you no longer look like an adoptee.

I’m thinking about that one.