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When I was little I always hoped that I would be adopted.  It didn’t matter that I never was in foster care or that anyone hardly noticed I was alive…other than when they did notice (and, then they noticed a lot) and always seemed to be really upset about it.

Sometimes I had hopes about my own family.  I would get my hopes up when there would be a moment of laughter…which usually came after a really big fight of some sort.  There was so much tension all the time.  I think I took it all into me.  I was the youngest and the smallest, and out of the kids there were only the two of us.  I was kind of the runt.  And I didn’t mind being the runt.  Being the runt can be nice and safe sometimes.

I was always somewhere else.  I happened to get a massage today and went somewhere else.  I went a few places, actually, but one of them was my first grade classroom.  I remember it. Not vibrantly, but it’s not muddy either.  It’s blurry…but moving images are there.  And what I remembered today while I was in my first grade classroom was looking out the windows.  Our classroom had windows that lined one wall facing toward the playground.   I remember a sunny playground with black and white rock asphalt topping.  I don’t remember too much from 1st grade.  But when it comes time for me to answer security questions…i use info. from a memory i have kept about 1st grade.  Even if that means sharing that info. means my security questions aren’t as secure anymore?

It was really 2nd grade that I was thinking about when I went there.  I was thinking about how when I was in second grade I would never ask the teacher to use the restroom when I really had to go.  I was too scared to upset her and make her mad because I knew the classroom rule was that students were only supposed to be allowed to use the restroom at designated “restroom break” times. And believe me, I always used those times!  But sometimes I’d really have to use the restroom even more than that.  But I would never ask.  This started to cause a real and serious physical problem for me because I had undergone a surgery that was in “that realm” a few years earlier, and it was physically important that I have access to the restroom when needed.  I remember my mom telling me I didn’t have a choice about asking the teacher to let me go, even if it wasn’t a scheduled time.  I was always so afraid to ask.  Even though it’s what I needed, for real needed, and wasn’t just trying to get out of classroom time like most of the kids who always wanted to leave the room when they could find an excuse.  And also about second grade…I remember learning how to tell time and count money because there was a workbook that you tore out paper coins from and the teacher had us rearrange and count in all sorts of benign ways.  I was never really very good at telling time or money.  Oh, and I remember show-and-tell!  And I also remember one day where we had some kind of fitness drive going on at school and everyone participated in aerobics led over the intercom in their classrooms.  I remember thinking that was so bizarre and fantastic!

And I don’t know why I’m remembering that.

Maybe it’s because in therapy we’ve been talking about asking for things and making requests.  Maybe it’s because this cleanse I’m doing is in some odd way related.  (Even though it’s not really “clearing me out,” at least, yet.)  Maybe it’s because I’ve experienced so much fear lately, along with really having a strong drive to put myself out there in life.

Maybe it’s just because I’m growing and I’m processing little tidbits.  Maybe it’s like when you juice something.  There’s the juice, which is usually the goal, and then there’s all that pulp.  What to do with all the pulp?!

To get back to the present day, producing all that pulp has gotten me thinking about starting my compost again.  It’s still just a great idea in my brain and it needs to find a new home.  A home, like maybe in the corner of our backyard…or somewhere where the neighbors won’t complain about me having a compost. Again, scared of upsetting someone else for doing something on my own property that isn’t hurting anyone.

Anyway, I’m just getting really tired of doing this.  I’m not tired of the cleanse.  I’m not even really tired right now at all, even though I need to be sleeping because bright and early it is surgery time for me (see my last post if that seems an odd bit of info to introduce so late in the game.)

I’m tired though.  I’m just tired.

And I still wish I could be adopted.

I know it’s never going to happen.  I know I probably couldn’t even handle it if it did.    And it might not even really be what I want.

I thought getting married could sort of be like getting adopted.  I was seventeen the first time, so it sort of could have worked.  But it didn’t work out. No, it just didn’t work out at all.

I’m tired. Too tired for daytime, even if it’s 10:30 pm.

I’m going to close my eyes.  Sweet dreams.

(Wish me luck.)