Last night I wrote a post that had me awake at or around 12:30 in the morning.
Cold sweat. Nervousness. Desperate need to delete post.
Makes me wonder what happens when folks receive posts via email. Do they still get to read the initial thoughts that I end up editing about 5 million times directly after I hit publish? Or do they get emails showing that I have edited it, hit publish, hit edit, hit publish, hit edit, hit publish?
Anyway, the point is that I woke up in a worried frenzy about what I had said (or rather, what I hadn't said) that I rushed downstairs (narrowly avoiding one of 50 balls at the bottom of the stairs, by the way) and hit "delete."
Chances are high that the post wasn't that bad, but because I tend to think that things are worse than they are- well. Like I said, "delete."
But, before I begin to go on and on about stuff that doesn't make much sense, I wanted to say this:
Thank you all for your incredible comments on my last post. I somehow forgot to mention that I was writing that bit so Claudia would like me a little bit more- I'm a sucker for accents. Anyway, if you want to read some incredible thoughts on attachment, check out this post (scroll down to the bottom). The twin mama set it all up for us and it has proven to be an incredible reference.
Back to the stuff that doesn't make sense. If you did happen to read that post last night, I think my struggle in the end was the title. The thought that I could possibly make a comparison to how the decisions being made in Ethiopia could be handled, or approached, or whatever. I really don't remember the details of what I said, but I do know what I felt when I woke up.
I felt heavy. Burdened. Worried. Sick. I was picturing my friends, children, Ethiopia, birth parents, birth families, adoptive parents, adoptive families. I was seeing cracks and holes and heartbreak. And I realized I shouldn't be worried about trying to make sense of any of this. Because you can't. It's so damn complex and difficult and just plain sad.
Today I have been utterly disgusted with posts shared on Facebook- people being righteous and pointing their fingers. People sneaking in their snide remarks, forcing those who are in pain to feel like shit because they aren't just screaming out "Hallelujah!" with the news.
The truth of the matter is that we are all human. And it hurts like hell knowing that things are crumbling.
To those who are waiting... to my friends that are right smack dab in the middle of this: please know it's okay to feel sad. And broken. And worried.
You should know there's a lot of us over here, on the sidelines, feeling broken for and with you.