Mixed Bag of a Day!!!!

I promised a few of my friends that I would next write about my experiences of last night's streetwork shift..... but seeing as it's Mother's Day, I wanted to write out my feelings about it.

This isn't meant to offend anyone, just my mixed up thoughts on a  day that can be really difficult as so many ppl so publicly celebrate their mothers.

So, a 'quick' history: I grew up in foster care bc my real dad was too sick to look after me and my brother and bc my real mother abused us terribly. It was so bad that by the time we were 2 (being twins) we were removed permanently from her and placed into care. So my very first experiences of mothering were not the best.

Next we were in and out of foster homes for two years until we were placed in a Lutheran  children's home. I don't remember much of that home as I was three/four, but I do remember the mother there. She was a Pastor's wife and so lovely. We called her Aunty E.

After the children's home came our long term placement in the Adelaide Hills. We lived with a couple who had children almost grown. Their youngest of three was in year 12 when we came along. (Mike and I were never separated). So, this home on a farm was where we stayed. It was a wonderful childhood of playing, riding bikes, making BMX tracks, building cubby houses out of hay bales, helping get the sheep in, getting so dirty the bottom of the bath wud be mud! We called our foster parents Aunty M and Uncle K. M told me as a young adult that we came home from school one day when we were about 7 years old and cheerfully announced together "We can call you mum because you're our foster mum". And mum and dad they were from then on.

It was always easy to tell if we were talking about them or our real parents. Our foster parents were mum and dad. Our biological parents were our 'real dad' or 'real mum'. However in later years we could NEVER (and still can't) refer to our biological mother as mum so she just became HER! (She has never earned the right to be called mother in my books.)

So the sunny days of our childhood were wonderful - but interspersed were dark days too. Days where our real mother - aka HER, would send private detectives to our primary school so that the police would be called. The birthdays and Christmases every single year without fail where she would put notices in the papers - Advertiser, Courier and Leader, telling the world in literally columns, how 'the government stole her kids'. Or "MISSING: My darling TWINS" Even though she knew exactly were we were. The harassment we got from kids in high school was awful. Bullying wasn't such a well known phenomenon back then.

The sour icing on the bitter cake that is my real mother, was when I was 12. My half sister (Bella, who had come to live with us when she was 11) and I had been playing junior tennis while mum was with Mike at his team's games. The deal every week was to meet at the P.O of our little town. Sometimes we went across the road to my foster-brother-in-law's-grandparents (who we called grandma and grandpa) and waited with them for mum to pick us up. So on this one day we went over and helped them prune the front garden having a lovely old time. They were such lovely older people and treated us like u would wish every grandparent to teat you.

I remember looking across the road at the post office. There was this woman in very distinctive clothing, and trailing behind her was her canvas shopping trolley. The old school version of the ones you see nowadays. But back then, NOONE in the hills had them so as soon as I saw it I was so sure it was HER.

I whispered to my sister "Bella, it's HER"

"Don't be stupid, how wud she even get here?" She couldn't drive!

"But it iiiiiisss!" Said I, getting frantic and bursting into tears.

And before we knew it she was opening the gate and walking right up to me shoving a photo of myself (school photo from about 3 years earlier) under my nose asking me in her horrible thick distinctive German accent if I knew this girl. Can you imagine the bizarre feeling of looking at yourself in a photo and getting asked if you knew her?

My sister was quick thinking and said "No, Jodie, didn't they move away last year?" My stuttering reply of yes and the hysterical tears made grandma S usher us both around the back and inside knowing that something was very fishy...... by which time SHE had clicked as to who we were. Dear old grandpa had no idea nothing was up.... MALE! Lol.

What followed was a hazy mess of trying to get dad on the UHF (before mobile phones), ringing the police, HER screaming and banging on the front door and windows, dad and the police arriving and fighting to take her away.

It turns out she had gone to nearly all the towns in the hills distributing propaganda of our foster paretns and of my real dad who were all innocent of her lies.

This is just one of hundreds of stories to do with her. The one I remember the most clearly - but we had so many restraining orders on her that she continually broke. It wasn't so bad when we were in primary school bc it was such a tiny school that we were all either related or like family anyway.

When I got to high school it was a completely different matter. Again, the classified ads continued, the broken restraining orders, the horrible phone calls, the radio talkback, the PI's, the many many court appearances at Children's Court bc of custody etc etc etc. It honestly didn't seem to end for years. 

The whole court thing continued for ages as the matters discussed were if we remain under the Guardianship of the Minister till we were 18 or what. It seems to easy to me DER! Of COURSE we couldn't go back to her. And once that was settled, it became about the abuse. There were hearing after hearing after hearing. A trial date was set but for some reason that I have no idea about, the trial against her never went ahead. One thing I know, she rarely showed up to actually attend court. The way it usually worked (from my memory) is that she would come, make a massive scene, get carted away and then court would proceed.... or get adjourned.... again and again and again.

Finally, things settled down.... a little, but I don't know what caused that. Maybe she finally accept that us kids made our OWN decision that we didn't want anything to do with her. She always believed (and still does to this day) that we were brain washed and have had false memories implanted and that is why we don't/didn't want to know her and that deep down we want to be with HER. Hmmm! You would have thought she got the hint. But even nowdays she believes I am stopping her from having contact with Mike. 

Yeah, whatever!!!!

Now days I have very very occasional contact with her. Mike and Bella want NOTHING to do with her. Mike just wants to live his life and move on. But my sister - well, she lives in her bitterness. It's such a sad thing to watch as you see that bitterness result in the same cycle of parenting. Not the same abuse, but abuse all the same. As for me, well, I never wanted contact either but I try to see it from God's perspective. 

I have minimal contact with her bc I believe that no matter what you have done, to have 4 children taken away from you, it must be devastating - no matter how twisted your thinking. So I very occasionally text her or call or something - partly from 'daughter-duty', partly bc I think God will honour my effort. The problem with my contact with her is that it encourages her to continue with the whole "I'm not guilty, you have been brainwashed, the government stole you from me" thing. And the other thing is, with every fibre of my being, I do believe she believes she never hurt us. I think she has talked herself into believing it after 35+ years. But I also look at the cycle - she was abused by her mother too. Does that excuse it? NO, it sure doesn't, but it helps me understand and see her from a different perspective.

My foster parents were pretty gold though all the harassment. They were always SOOO well known the the Adelaide Hills community and she tried very hard to tarnish their reputation. I think tho, people knew them enough to believe them when they told what kind of woman gave birth to me.

So, my darling real dad - who we had regular contact with throughout and who we adored, died from heart disease when we were 17. It was a terrible year. I was doing Year 12 and he had, in the 18months before his death, 3 heart attacks, then a stroke and then another ehart attack which eventually got him. He was only 59. It was devastating. I will never forget Mum coming in to tell me about it..... but that is a blog for another time.

Once my real dad died, it was almost like there was no one to keep my mum and dad accountable anymore. DCW/FACS/FAYS/Families SA (all the different names I've known it as - which is basically Child Welfare) were stepping back as we were about 9 months from being adults. 

In the couple years before my real dad died, things at home had become not-so-good. Us kids were growing up - but not in the way my mother wanted. All we ever heard was "You're not like MY kids". I used to think to myself... "HOW could we possibly be like ur kids - they grew up sooo sheltered. where as us.....!!!!". I always felt like I let them down bc we were so different from their own kids. So there was a LOT of conflict between my mum and me. I was always the protector of Mike - being my twin. Whenever he got into trouble I would stand up for him (as you do) and vice versa. But that would just make everything ten times worse.

My sister either got kicked out or ran away after year 12. To hear it from my mum, she ran away to be involved with all her friends who were drug addicts. To hear it from my sister, she got kicked out bc they thought she was pregnant - which she wasn't. I have no idea who to believe to this day. Maybe a bit of both????

I remember on my real dad's first birthday after he passed away, I was crying and my mum had a real go at me for being upset about him. She couldn't understand why I would be so upset. Which I couldn't understand - as she lost HER dad when she was 12. Of all people I thought she would understand. So we were actually not allowed to grieve for him - something that hit me big time in my 20's when I used to cut myself to ribbons.

I found getting my licence a massive gift from God. I was able to escape whenever I felt choked down by it all. 

Things came to a head when i was attending a church down Adelaide (what my mother was convinced was a cult - but was actually just a city Lutheran church). I had been boarding with one of the pastors and his family for a year and had just moved into a place with a friend. I had been seeing a counsellor to try and deal with the conflict between me and my mum (it was always my mother, dad was a real peace-maker - but would never dare stand up for me. She definitely wore the pants).. 

So one day in January 1998, we organised to meet at my church with my counsellor. I don't remember much about that day except for this: I was crying my eyes out and said to them "I know I have disappointed you a lot but I don't know what I have done wrong. All I know is that I love you and to me, you will always be my parents."

I said this because long long ago when we were young, they used to promise that they would be our parents for as long as we wanted. It was such a  safe secure thing knowing that they would be my parents forever - because the choice was mine and that's what I wanted.

The counsellor waited a bit after I said that before eventually asking "Do you want to say anything in response?". My mother, without a pause said in a cold hard voice "We don't love her and haven't loved her for a long time!!!!"

THAT was the day that triggered off 5 years of the most severest depression Modbury hospital at seen to that point.

After that day, I went into a dark dark time - much different to the dark days of my childhood. That was another girl entirely. But this was ME, I couldn't ignore that I was so bad that my own parents who promised they would be there forever if I wanted, were suddenly taken away  from me by one sentence.

It was horrible, cousins and aunties and uncles kind of got caught in the middle. I was so blessed that some of my extended foster family said to me "You might not be their daughter anymore, but you are still our niece". And some of those dear aunties and uncles get such delight when we pop in on the rare occasion now. I enjoy it as much as they do - they are my roots you know? And I have been just as richly blessed with some beautiful supportive cousins. Over the years tho, I have not had a lot of contact with them as I never wanted to make them choose between my mother and her kids, and me. What an unfair choice to ask them to make - so i kinda distanced myself.

However, recently we have got back in touch with one of our cousins and things are better than ever. The old friendships are still there..... and favourite cousin, you know who you are, we love you guys to bits!!!!

I think I finally accepted that I was no longer their daughter at my dad's funeral. I was utterly devastated when my father died suddenly in 2003. It was double hard in some ways bc I always had this dream that things would heal over time and I would look after them in the older years - give back to them the way they gave to me as a child. 

We were barely acknowledged in the obituary - even though we lived with them for over 17 years. It said something like "K and M fostered three children for a time". That was it!!!! We were asked one by Aunty if we could not sit in the church at his funeral as it would upset my mum. Another kick in the stomach. In the end we sat at the very back of the church. It almost killed me when I saw my immediate family walk  into that church as we were not allowed to be part of it.  My grief was completely overwhelming. Thankfully the pastor mentioned that dad loved having two sons - at least my brother was recognised - which in my book made up big time for completely ignoring ME.

At the graveside Mike was allowed to go hug our mum. Watching her hold him - or rather, he hold her was a beautiful precious memory. She might hate me but she let him be part of it in a small way. Back at the church afterwards, I was talking to my Aunty M and mum tried to brush past us at the doorway. I said hello to her and she looked in the opposite direction. That's when I knew.

My Pastor had said to me that my dad's death would either soften her or harden her heart towards me. I obviously assumed it would soften it. How wrong I was! She hated me even more - I was devastated all over again! Especially as she seemed accepting of Mike that day. That was when I knew I wasn't her daughter anymore... as if I needed more proof!!!!

Ever since all this stuff with mothers and fathers, I have always been on the perpetual search to find a mother and father who would actually want me. I thought I had found them too. Until two years ago and after a 16 year friendship this family who had 'adopted' me turned on me too. So I feel like I have lost three sets of parents. Three fathers who I loved to death. Three mothers who I feel have screwed me over royally.

And why is it, the two paprents who actually lvoed me - the guys, are the ones who died, but the ones who have hurt me so bad are the ones who live? All I can think of is that it's so God can continue to teach me and grow my character. But geee.....

....That is why Mother's Day is hard for me!

There is another side to Mother's Day for me that I find almost as painful. Being childless.

When I was a young-in getting in the wood after school, I used to day dream that I would find a baby out in the paddock. I would imagine hearing it cry and I running to find it and look after it. It was my greatest and only dream as a child. I was all of 7!

 I believe I was born to be a mother. An old friend of mine prophesied over me a few years ago. part of that prophesy was that I was already a mother - I just hadn't had children yet. Whether that is true or not, Im not sure. But I know that I have looked after a myriad of children. I was a major carer for my gorgeous 5 year old niece for the whole of her life until February when my sister decided to follow her pattern and cut me out of their lives. I worry about her as I see the effects of mental and emotional abuse in that 5 year old and her big brother.

I absolutely adore my best friend's 4 kids. I am Godmother to one of them which is a huge honour - and I completely dote on all 4 of them.

I was with someone a while back and we had all sorts of plans where kids were concerned.... until I realised he was so emotionally immature there was NO way I could ever be with him, let alone have kids with him.

One of my lifelong dreams has been to foster kids - give back to some other kids the chances that being in foster care gave me. Because even though there were bad times, there were good times too. For all I know, if my parents hadn't taken me in, I could easily be dead right now - knowing the kind of childhood my sister (who stayed with my real mother till she was 11) had at the hands of our real mother. I can't do this yet as I don't think Im financially stable enough.... but also, i would prefer to do it with a partner... and right now there are no guys on the horizon.

Tiny pieces of me die inside when I hear of friends who have become pregnant. Especially when some of them are sooo young! 

One good thing about me is that I can still rejoice with people who are pregnant - any life in my books is exciting and wonderful and new. 

I take a lot of joy from watching them play at church, spending time with little ones, playing, reading making things with them. Being there for teenagers, listening, hugging, hanging out etc.

But in the last year or so, I also feel a bit of me wilting with each baby announcement. Time ticks by faster and faster each year. And each year, that mother-yearning grows bigger and bigger inside of me so that it's at the point where it aches so bad every single day and the consciousness that time (and my age) is slipping by too quickly does not get missed by me either.

According to my sister, when I was with my partner, I mothered HIM half the time. I remember last mother's day when she actually told me "Happy Mother's Day". At my question she replied that not only am I a mother for Mike in many respects, but also for T - the bf! I was kinda shocked but on reflection I realised she had nailed it exactly!!!! (If u feel you have to mother ur partner - that is not a good thing. Don't worry tho, he's not around anymore).

Yesterday, a dear friend wrote on my FB wall: HAPPY Mothers day Linda. Remember you are a mother to many. People look up to you as a motherly figure in their lives. The impact you have on people is incredibly inspiring and your hugs make me happy.

It made me realise that I have some very perceptive friends who can read my wants and desires more than I thought. And she is right (she's such a good egg that friend). When I thought about it, I guess I do mother people a lot. But it helped me feel good too, that even if Im not a mother in the normal sense of the word, I still do a lot of the jobs that mothers do.

It'll do for now. ;)

Last night when I was working we were talking about babies who are born and addicted to drugs. It has opened up a new idea to me that I'm seriously considering. Those babies have no one to give them the love that is so vital at that early stage of life. Nurses and drs can only do so much cuddling and holding. Maybe if I volunteer with those babies, I can help fill a void in my own life while also giving that child the love that they need to overcome addiction, develop and grow. I am even thinking of seeing if Mike wants to do it with me - as the whole wanting kids thing is getting bigger for him too.

Part of the reason why I wanted to work with kids - and why this new job is so awesome, is that in my thinking, if I can't have kids yet, and I can't foster yet, maybe if I can work with those troubled kids/foster kids, I can still give back.... until I am able to foster. So in some ways I am beginning to fulfil my dream - not in a way I planned, but it's helping in a small way to fill that hole in my heart. And I heart to see these teen kids learn to trust, break down the barriers and grow. This job is perfect for me in that respect!!!!

And contrary to popular thinking, I am probably a better listener than talker, lmao!!!!

Oh and before I go, I just want to make one clear. I LOVE it when my friends have kids. While there is a part of me that hurts deep down, I completely and genuinely rejoice in the new life coming into a family. 

I know that I still get to cuddle them, play with them, teach them, watch them grow and change and develop into the little people God made them to be. I take *such* joy see each new achievement and milestone, and the fact I can share in their lives is a beautiful wonderful gift that their parents give me. I know my life is so much brighter because of  the laughs I get nowdays from my rascally little godson and his siblings. 

Children are such precious gifts from our God and Im so thankful He made humans begin life as helpless little babies

So yeah, Mother's Day is such a mixed bag of emotions for me. A sad, hurtful, angry, questioning, aching, joyful, bittersweet, thankful day. 

It's a day where I really enjoy hearing the stories of my friend's kids and what they have done to make their mother's day special but I don't enjoy the massive focus on it at church, on TV, at the shops etc. I *hate* the focus that FB (which I live on) puts on it. (No one in particular, just the 50,000 posts that float from one profile to another). 

I understand it all, just personally, I don't like it. 

It's why I usually don't go anywhere on Mother's Day. It's hard because all my friends are spending the day with their mothers so there is noone to hang out with to distract me. It's a day that is definitely special and I am so thankful they have mothers to spend the day with. It's just hard when you don't have one. 

I know a few friends who are experiencing their first Mother's Day without their mother bc she has passed away. My heart aches for them. I wish I could pluck her from heaven and bring her down here just for the day.

I wish that there was a way, that when everyone is celebrating with their families, I could somehow fill the void in every person's heart who is missing something. 

The void of being childless - due to being unable to have children, due to child/infant death.

The void of not having a mother - due to death or other kinds of loss.

The void of having a mother, but one that is shut down emotionally and who does not possess the capacity to love and be a mother in every sense of the word.

I wish I could give all those people the feeling of love, comfort, security and identity that comes with having a mum.

To be honest, I just wish that it was a bit of a non-event that I didn't have to experience every year!

I hope that whatever you did today, it was a day where you felt love from someone - whether you are a mother or a father, a daughter or a son! Don't forget that even if you have no family, you are still a son or daughter of the Heavenly Father and he loves you and wants to help fill that void.

L xoxo

Disclaimer: I didn't share the things about my parents to diss them, put them down or to make you think badly of them. That thought never entered my head. They are not bad people. They have not had some of the opportunities that I have had to grow in self-development and vice versa. They have just grown up and been taught about life differently to me.

I shared these things so that you can understand where I am coming from in the present day. 

I still love each of those parents, no matter how awful my relationship with them has been. It's hard to love when you have been badly burnt but I truly believe God has given me what I call a God-Love for people - yes, even those who hurt me. 

It's a love that superceeds the human ability to love. There is no way I could continue to love those people in my own human weakness. It is a love that only comes from God. A special gift from him to me. It allows me to intercede for other people. It allows me to be such a good mentor/worker. It gives me the compassion to deal with the things I have had to go through in order to help others.
Sometimes I wish I didn't feel that love as it complicates things..... but ultimately, I am glad I have this gift!

So if you contemplate this blog in the future, just remember, Im not out to hurt people, I share what I share so that you can understand ME and my views better. 

Catch ya xo