I’m mad. I’m mad and sad. Mad and discouraged. Mad and madder. It’s been a long week emotionally. Tough stuff going on at church. Disillusionment. The reality of people’s failures and flaws. Stuff at home. Three times to therapy, secrets being held tightly. Then the reality of the secrets today and the confirmation that we still need locks and monitoring and healing only God can provide.
And then tonight. Scrolling through facebook I see that my oldest adopted daughter B is now friends with someone from our old church, her old church. I see that she’s on fb with pictures of her birth mom. Flaunting her sexuality, her drinking, her life that’s so opposite from ours. All is forgiven with her birth family. Obviously them terminating their parental rights is easily forgiven. Oh, the stories they must have spun for her. Except I live with two wounded, damaged children that will have to live with these choices for the rest of their lives. Two children who live in a fantasy world with their birth family. Not the real birth family that abandoned them, gave them away, abused and forever changed their hearts.
I’ve lived with this reality, this life, for 10 years. I thought I had locked up all the grief and anger so well for so long until the floodgates opened tonight. I loved B to the best of my ability, sacrificed for her, hurt for her, fought for her. But I still haven’t gotten over the damage she did and the ways we have suffered because of her. I understand she only did what was done to her. But every wounded child does not abuse other children. And make false accusations against her adoptive family. I will never forget the months of torture at the hands of social services wondering if her lies would get her siblings taken away from us. Fear upon fear. Knowing the truth and being helpless to actually prove it except through our children’s words. It was the darkest time of my life and seeing her on fb I know I haven’t let go of all the anger and resentment. I had closed the door because the pain is too great, but it’s still there. I’m mad at the generations of sin that were passed down, from great grandfather to grandmother, father to daughter, then sister on to her siblings.
I remember a life where constant watchfulness weren’t an everyday part of my life. Where for the most part home was a haven. It is a daily effort to keep our home free from Satan’s tentacles that want to strangle our family with another family’s sins. I’m mad. I hate this. Fear for my children’s hearts that will need incredible strength to break through the bondage of sin. Wondering if the years to come will be healing or hurtful.
So tonight I’m allowing myself to be mad. And hurt. And sad. Oh so sad.