I didn’t mean to ruin it

I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to write about it, and I don’t want to think about it. But I guess I’m going to have to. Last night was awful. I’m a pretty private person. I don’t share my struggles or emotions (other than writing or blogging about it here). But last night, I was feeling so alone and upset, so I wrote a vague post about grief:

“Grief is something you can’t control. It just exists. Sometimes it’s easier than others to manage, and that’s just the way it goes. I wish I didn’t always have to be strong, but I’m so incredibly glad I have someone to be strong for.
I may not always want to smile, but spaghetti bellies, laundry basket shenanigans and wearing costumes at therapy make the smiles impossible to resist. And not to mention snacking under the glow of Christmas tree lights.
Life is hard. For all of us. But I’m so grateful for all of these moments.” And then added some obviously adorable pictures of my kids.

So…a pretty vulnerable post coming from someone who is typically always only showing the best, (most fake) parts of life.

Within 30 seconds, I kid you not, my birth sons adoptive parent messaged me to ask me if “I’m okay”.

I’m so emotionally exhausted and drained, so I really don’t want to get into all of it. But we haven’t spoken in any terms other than “hey, what can I get him for Christmas/birthday?” or the vey generic “hey, I was thinking of you guys and wanted to check in, hope everything is going well!”

I’ve been craving and needing any kind of communication with them. Any kind of real communication. With like…a non-generic update about how are things really going. We haven’t done that in probably close to 2 years.

We even talked about that in therapy last night, about how I really need to text them and do that whole “Hey, what can I get him for Christmas this year?” text. It’s getting late, and I need to do it. But I’m not ready to. Just the simple act of doing that opens up wounds that I don’t want open….that I’m not strong enough to endure.

The irony and the timing of last night is just….

My post was literally about him. About missing my birth son.

And he asks if I’m okay. When we haven’t spoken in so long…

What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say?! Of course I’m not going to say, “well, I’m actually just really missing the child that currently resides in your household”.

It caught me off guard on top of already feeling vulnerable.

I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to say. I needed someone. My husband was asleep because of a migraine. I was so desperate that I actually tried to wake him up twice.

We talked for a minute. I gave him an update on my kids, on their health. I tried to keep my birth son out of it.

He asked “if there was anything they could do”.

Once again, I didn’t know what to say. I choose my words so carefully when it comes to them. I’m so afraid, terrified, of saying something wrong, or not even saying something wrong…but it not being taken the way I mean it to be. Or them thinking I’m overstepping or…anything. I don’t even say that I miss him when we talk.

I’m so paranoid about ruining whatever relationship exists. It’s my biggest fear.

I didn’t do or say anything wrong last night. Shit, I didn’t even initiate the conversation!!!

But I did mention that I was thinking about him, and I told him that my 5 year old son has been talking about thinking about him a lot lately too. I asked what we could do for my birth son (and his older brother) for Christmas.

And that was it. He didn’t answer.

I ruined it. I fucked it up.

They’ll never talk to me again. Because I fucked everything up.

I didn’t mean to…I swear I didn’t.

This is the relationship that means the most to me…and it’s the one I have absolutely no idea how to navigate.

I hate it. I hate myself.

They’re like fucking mythical creatures. I know they exist, I know they’re out there. Sometimes I get a glimpse, but then just like that…they’re gone.

And the battle of patience begins once again.

(I’m sorry always, but today I’m sorry extra.)