Too late to apologise?

I have an unusual invitation on my hall table - it's an invitation to an apology.

I've never received an invitation to an apology before, have you?

Apologies are usually not formally announced, with a guest list drawn up and an 'after party' (or should that be wake?) planned.

This week I will go and sit in Queen's Hall at the Victorian Parliament and listen to a powerful white man apologise for the mistakes of previously powerful white men, and I'm not sure what to expect.

The apology is for the government's past practices surrounding forced adoption. About frickin' time.

I was adopted in the midst of the 'baby scoop era', and I have no clue as to whether I was willingly, thoughtfully surrendered (perish the thought) or whether my 17 year old mother was forced by immense societal pressure, a mother who valued the opinions of others more than having a relationship with her own grandchild, by a lack of resources to enable her to bring me up, or by shame and desperation I can't imagine, to relinquish a child she probably never even got to see, let alone hold. Either way... well, words fail me.

I cannot imagine being a young woman who had her baby coldly, violently removed from her four decades ago, preparing for this day - I do expect that there will be some empty chairs of those who just cannot bring themselves to attend. My heart aches for those women.

I do expect there to be anger and tears and that no matter what is said, some will find it all too little, too late - and who could blame them? I hope for a sense of healing, at least the first hope for the hope of healing these decades old wounds.

Being adopted is challenging - it is more complex that I think it is reasonable to expect anyone not touched by adoption to understand. For me, it is sometimes the ultimate clash of internal forces - profound loss, rejection, gratitude and devastation often occur simultaneously. Not every day, thank goodness, but at times, it is overwhelming. I am grateful for the steps I have been able to take to assimilate this reality into my sense of self. 

And to those who say 'just get over it' - respectfully I say, piss off. You are not helping and your inability to even attempt to walk a mile in the shoes of another is just sad.

To the friends I have who will respond compassionately to whatever my response is - I thank you in advance.

To those who I can't share this with, I'm sorry. It's just not possible, at least at this point in time.

So if you know someone, love someone, remember someone who has been touched by adoption, think of them with extra kindness this week. They may need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to take the time to see them, to see their pain and anguish and loss and hope, and to say, I see you and I am truly sorry this happened to you.




For Andrea.

Post-match review

It has been a pretty stressful couple of weeks, not my preferred state of being. Stuff will always frustrate me in life, that's no revelation, but it has been really hard to keep going without the way I felt spilling out and staining the people around me. Not nice, for them, or for me. The fact that I felt 'justified' in my aggro has no bearing on how I mishandled it. I let it get the better of me and that sucked for everyone around me. Yuk. I was part of the problem, not the solution, simple as that.

This week it came to a head and strong words were spoken, which left me reeling, and sobbing (I know it's hard to believe - me, crying?!). But that's not the point. The good that came from it is.

After I had stopped bursting into tears, which took several hours, I took some time to think about what was said, what I did wrong, how I could do better and what I could take from the experience. I sorted through what mattered and what I could let go and I decided to address one particular thing that troubled me. I even wrote myself a little script to stay focused!

The next day I initiated a conversation with one of the peeps in the previous day's discussion, and with a bit of to and fro, I worked out what I'd heard wasn't what was said, and I was able to explain that what he'd heard wasn't what I'd said - ah the art of clear communication.... I am so glad there was an opportunity to go back and fix that part of it.

Misunderstanding others (or being misunderstood) has been going on since the dawn of time. No matter how clear we think we're being, when things get heated, and/or emotional, there's no way to know that the person you're talking to (or at), can understand you or vice versa.

Some people in this world love argy-bargy and get a hard-on from being argumentative or provocative - I 100% hate that. I hate it when people are angry with me, and I am completely undone when I discover something I've done has been the scource of people's frustrations or disappointment. I never want to have a debate or argument as sport, ever. Just to be clear, never, EVER.

So a period that had some awfully deep lows, ended up in a day of peace and productivity and laughter and kind words. I am so frickin' grateful for that! And I learned some good lessons into the bargain.

Progress, yay me!

There's something really powerful about going back to the table, and though I admit I don't go back to every 'table' in my life (I'm most definitely a work in progress and in some instances a completely disinterested party in any kind of table read) I'm really glad I went back to the one that was set before me this week. I came away from the second table feeling full - full of hope that I can do better, and be better, and full of relief that I was given the chance to speak my piece, in peace.

And yesterday I got to drive up and down the nearby hills and see this beautiful sight.

Peace xx