Therapy and Therapy

Last night Primero and I had another join therapy session. It was a lot less intense than the last time we were in therapy together. I tried to be sure to not get worked up about anything and while I know I am holding back emotionally but I also need some more time to heal. Primero was glib and happy when he got home last night. I feel like I’m living in cement, just barely able to shift my body around to react, my movements slowed by the heavy sediment holding me in place. At therapy we talked about Primero using my full name instead of my nickname and how he rarely does and how I’ve only corrected him once. That’s simply because I’ve given up; I just don’t care what he calls me. We then talked about the party. First, the therapist explained that it might not always be possible to attend all family events. She tried to get him to express his expectations but he had nothing to offer by way of what he hoped to happen. I explained that I feel there is pressure on me to befriend every member of his family when I feel incredibly awkward and unsure how to act. The therapist asked if I thought I would be attending these events in the future and I said, “Since I’m not technically invited and I only have to go because Primero can’t go unless I do, I don’t really see myself attending in the future.” Primero claimed he didn’t care what I did, even if I sat on my phone and ignored everyone like he does at my family functions. This, of course, is a lie. He has expressed his true feelings about the matter in the past. He did mention, when asked by the therapist who would be attending, his bio mom plans to attend. I really hope she doesn’t talk to me. And, she had better not give me any slack about being stand-offish. I gave her a chance to get to know me and she blew me off. Worse, she spent time with Hermano and one of their younger sisters rather than spend the time with Primero and the rest of us. So, she better just steer clear of me, which I’m sure she won’t do. I wish this were over already. I really, really don’t want to go at all.

Today I met my new therapist. I like her much better than my first therapist (from a few years ago)already. Mostly, it was just me explaining the whole mess of my life right now as to the reason why I was seeking counseling. At the end of the session she asked how I felt after blabbing on and on about “things.” I told her I felt really messed up and hopeless. And I said I was tired of all the disappointments that have just kept coming and coming over the past several years. She promised me there was hope and that she wanted to help me. I’m going to see her again next Monday afternoon and the following week as well. I spent most of my time talking about my journey in foster care and to the present issue of adopting Primero and having a wide open adoption with his biological family. I took the book I finished reading, ”Three Little Words” the one recommended to me here, by the woman who was adopted at age 12 after being in the foster care system for most of her life. I read the line, “I cannot say, that even today, Gay (the adoptive mom) feels like my real mother.” To me, this is the saddest thing in the world; it’s just soul-crushingly devastating and sad. I suppose I have a long road of emotional recovery ahead of me…..

While perusing Facebook last night I discovered that a woman I went to church with at my previous church is expecting again. She had a picture of a home pregnancy test and her caption was “Rejoice and sing for the sterile who couldn’t give birth. Thank you Lord for your faithfulness.” I’m paraphrasing, since she wrote in Spanish, but the meaning is that she tried to get pregnant for years. About three years ago she had a son and now she is expecting again. Just months before she got pregnant with her son, my friend’s husband had run off to Puerto Rico with another woman. She welcomed him back and she told me before that it was her unwavering faith that finally made her able to conceive. I guess my doubts made me unable to be a biological mother. And now I’m struggling with being an adoptive parent. Maybe if I only had a little more faith…….