Also, after decades of hypochondria, my narcissistic a-dad finally has something really wrong with him and that's been diverting and a challenge b/c I've had to drudge up some compassion. Which is hard. Because just when he needs me most, it's hard not to think of the one single time I ever asked him for anything as an adult ($50 to tide me over b/t jobs) and he not only let me down, he didn't even have the guts to tell me he hadn't sent the money after saying he would. And the time he left me in the hospital alone after minor surgery/biopsy when I was 10 because his nerves, "just couldn't take it."
So I'm cheating a bit. I'm posting something I put on a forum, but I'm short of time today and really wanted to update.
Was at Costco and spotted a paperback of Roots...strategically placed next to a stack of how-to-trace-your-roots-genealogy books. Heard on NPR recently about renewed interested in genealogy and some new online sites to help and the sound bites were all about the importance of knowing where you come from and why people are fascinated, etc.
And it really pissed me off. Society wants it both ways. Your ancestry really matters. Unless you're adopted. Then it's no big deal and you shouldn't be interested. It's maddening. And this is in our faces all the time. The hypocrisy. But no one else seems to see it.
My adoptive mother comes from a Mexican village called Chavez Ravine, where Dodger Stadium in L.A. now stands and for the longest time, I was FASCINATED by its sad story and all the old sepia pictures. Almost my entire adoptive family comes from that area. Then I woke up from my Fog and realized it has nothing to do with me. So I lost that, too. My first mom was really good about telling me as much as she could about my roots, but I feel so disconnected from that. It doesn't feel like mine, either. Maybe some day it will when I "incorporate" it.