I've been doing some writing for my sponsor for when we eventually meet up to get to work. (We've been trying to meet up for days now but something keeps getting in the way for one of us). It's not meant to be anything super personal...just writing out my experiences/history with alcohol. But of course, alcohol winds itself into every aspect of my life, so I end up writing about things that are less than fun to talk about. It's probably healthy for me to be writing it, but then when I think about going over it with my sponsor it scares the hell outta me. So then I go back and edit and remove the stuff I'm too afraid to have out there. I know I should be trying to be open and honest, but I figure it's better to have something I can actually share than write more but be afraid to show any of it.
What surprised me today as I was thinking through it was my very strong desire to edit out mention of foster parents and foster care. It surprises me because I want to be a foster mom someday and I don't want to think of being in care as being something shameful. I'd rather be helping to get rid of that stigma, not perpetuate it.
But I think the fear has little to do with foster care itself. I think it's more that it involves having to admit that my parents gave me up.
My parents were horrible, cruel people. I've often wished they'd given me up at birth, and wondered why they hadn't since they clearly didn't want me around. Over the years I did everything I could to get away from them. And yet, when they denounced me and said officially/legally that they wanted nothing further to do with me, it was some of the most awful pain I'd ever experienced. Even in my teens I still longed for their love and compassion. I should've (and maybe did) know better than to really expect that to come from them, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And even today it hurts to admit that that love wasn't there. And as much as I know that's because of them and their inability to parent, I still, even now, believe I somehow failed as a daughter. Had they sent me away as a baby or young child it would've been different. That would've been a decision realizing they couldn't handle parenting or something like that. But they had me, saw me, knew me for 15 years and couldn't find anything in me that was worth keeping me around. Nothing. I should be grateful that they gave me up. I had the chance to live with amazing foster parents and learn about love and what a real family is meant to be. And I am very grateful. It's just hard to admit and accept the reasons behind it.
I haven't decided if I'm going to mention any of this to my sponsor. Right now the foster care stuff is written in there only vaguely...basically just that I went to live w/a foster family at 15. That's not such a big deal but I worry about the potential can of worms it could open. My sponsor seems nice and like a good person and all, but I barely know her. I'm not ready to know if she's a safe person to tell this kind of stuff to.
For now I'm falling asleep writing this so it must be bedtime. I'm grateful for a fun day at work.
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