I tend to be pessimistic. I think, it’s because whenever I’m optimistic, things never work out in my favor or the way I hope they would. I try, I really do, but it seems like nothing helps. All the good vibes, positive energy, prayers and meditation in the world can’t help me. It’s as if I’m just a magnet for everything awful.
The results from the DNA test came in today.
When I first got the test, I was expecting that… but I started getting hopeful. These people were so positive, and happy, and encouraging… I so wanted to be part of that. It would have been amazing. I was so hopeful that this was it. That this never-ending search would finally come to an end. That at the end of this week, I wouldn’t be sitting her wondering, waiting, still looking for answers to these questions, that some man out there doesn’t even know exist. Questions that will continue to gnaw at me until they’re finally answered and put to rest.
I feel awful for me… But…
I feel awful for them.
These people were so nice, so sweet, so open-hearted, warm and accepting. They wanted me. They wanted it to be positive. They were hoping, and crossing their fingers just as much as I was. The entire family. And now, they’re just as heart-broken as I am. I know how it feels. I know how bad it hurts. I know how terrible and life-shattering it is… And I feel like a god awful person for putting them through this. I feel horrible for getting their hopes up. I was honest about the possibility from the get-go, but it doesn’t ease the guilt I feel any. I feel guilty, knowing that I put someone through almost the exact same agony, I’ve been experiencing my entire life. For that, apologies will never come close, but all I can do is say I’m so sorry.
I know people feel bad for me.
And so do I. But some of the things people are saying… hurt. I know they mean well… but…
“Maybe it’s just not the right time.”
There is no right time. If there was, that time would have been 22+ years ago, and is long over due. There is no such thing as a “right” time. I’m picking up the pieces of a mess someone else made, and I don’t even have the full puzzle. I’m doing the best I can with what I have available, but it’s just not enough. I just keep looking and looking and looking, but never finding the answers. There will never be a “right” time, because the right time has already passed.
“You’ll find him eventually.”
Eventually? Eventually doesn’t help. Eventually can mean anything. Eventually, we all die. It doesn’t mean I want to die tomorrow. Or hell, he could die tomorrow. I don’t want to eventually find him stumbling across his obituary. I’ve been wanting to find him my entire life. That’s over 22 years. And I’ve been searching every possible way I know how for the last five years… As long as I’ve had names to go off of. Eventually doesn’t help. Eventually hurts. Eventually is indefinite. Eventually could be never.
“You still have family that loves you. Isn’t that enough?”
Of course I love my family, strengths and weaknesses and all… But it doesn’t negate the fact that something so monumental is missing. If someone had a child go missing, or die or something awful, you wouldn’t tell them “At least you have other children who love you!” It’s the same thing… Just because I have people in my life that love and care for me, doesn’t negate the fact that someone is missing. Whether they care about me, want me or not… They’re still missing. And even just knowing can help close that closet and heal that wound. At least then, I’ll know. He’ll know. And there won’t be any unanswered questions.
“Well, my dad left when I was x-age”
I’m sorry. I really am. But you know who your dad is. He knows who you are. He knows you exist. He knows you’re there. It sucks he bailed out, but it isn’t the same.
I’m not trying to be mean when I say these things. I know people mean well… But it doesn’t help. There really isn’t anything anyone can say or do, aside from miraculously finding him for me… that will help. Tell me you’re sorry, fine. But please, don’t make me feel worse. I know you don’t mean anything bad by it… But it hurts and I’m such an emotional hurricane right now, I don’t want to respond in a way that will hurt you too.
Angry. Hurt. Resentful. Sad. Traumatized.
This is something I’ve always been angry at my mother for. Yes, she made mistakes. No, she can’t fix them. But just because she made a mistake, doesn’t mean she can’t help rectify the situation. This isn’t about her. I don’t care how whoever it was treated her or what whoever it was said to her. I just want to know. This isn’t about her or how she feels about the situation. This is about ME. Unfortunately however, I find myself alone on this one again. It’s all left to me. Again.