I’m not good at writing in this blog as often as I should. Now that I’m retired, I have more of a chance to write than ever before, so I like to spend time writing or editing my novels. I am thrilled to have one novel out, The Swan Garden, with a 2nd completed, and in the editing stages (can’t give out the title yet), but due out by winter 2017. A third book, memoir, also completed, (title not set yet). I am outlining my 4th book (3rd novel) I am 67 and I have written more in the last 5 years then my entire life. Now for that I am forever grateful.
I know I created this website for my writing and about being adopted and the Irish mother-baby homes. It is funny these topics are in my head every day as I write about Ireland and its history. I can’t seem to go a day without reading an article about how angry I should be because I was adopted, or how thankful I should be for being adopted, even though my identity was stripped from me. Nor does a day go by that I don’t think about what may have happened behind those gray walls at Castlepollard. My imagination can invent a scenario, but it would be nothing like the reality. Every day I wonder why my b-mother won’t write to me, or respond to my calls, but I find ways to get past it and still love her.
I talk to my adoptive mother every day. She is 104, lives alone and is quite an amazing woman. We didn’t have the best of relationships, and there were times she hurt me so badly I never thought I would heal, but I did, slowly the wounds closed and I found a way to forgive (10 years of therapy). I remember one day in therapy, my therapist said, no one wakes up in the morning set on hurting people, they do the best they can, with what they have. I have believed that and that is how I have been able to keep her a part of my life. She did her best, as we all try to do.That was her.
She lost a 16-year-old daughter, the absolute love of her life, then brought in a sickly orphan who she had no clue what to do with, besides even try to love her. I could never have imagined losing my daughter (or son) at that age, nor could I have opened my arms to let a stranger in, a stranger who had her life stripped from her.
(I must say at this point I am angry at the Irish government for not talking better care of us babies, for leaving us in the hands of others. I was a child I could not care for myself. I needed someone, and you as an institution, a country, you failed us,a nd you will have to live with that, because we are not going away. And that is all I have to say about that.
I am more sick about the condition our country is in, then my past laments.
I am sick that we are allowing one person to lower the standards we as a nation set for ourselves; the standards whereby we raise our children, and God-forbid would never allow these actions to be done by them. We say we honor God and His virtues, and yet now our country has turned into the laughing stock of the world. Having been to Ireland and hearing how people speak of him and of us; we have lost our integrity. We laugh at tweets that ridicule and mock people who think or speak differently. We laugh at the violence that is accepted as the way of the world (from both sides).
It doesn’t matter what my political standing is. I can’t believe that I would stand alone in this. I came to this country as an immigrant, not knowing the possibilities that might lay before me as a foreigner.
I was lucky, I worked hard, with baby steps I attained my goals. I dealt with my setbacks and cheered my victories. I had a career I was proud of because I felt like I made a difference as a teacher in high school, maybe not every day, but I had my shinning moments.
Now as a part of the “baby boomers” I have to ask, how is it that we, as a nation encourage rage and violence instead of tolerance or acceptance. I believe my president to be above the ridicule that he faces. Instead of turning into a bully, my president would be strong, and instead of lying which only permeates the rage, give truth, speak for the people you claim to represent, but not with lies, with truth. I’m a big girl, I can face the truth even if it is bad, but not the lies, not the hatred.
I want my country back. I want honesty to be first and foremost I want to be able to respect the most powerful man in the world instead of fear what he might say or do next. I want a person of honor, who stands tall and instead of ridiculing, I want a person who moves this country forward.
I am 67 years old and I wonder how my coutry will be in a year, 2 years, or even 5 years. I am afraid, more afraid then of anything I have ever been afraid of.
If I offended anyone I’m sorry. I just wanted to speak my truth on this very special day.