One has to do with the fact that a sibling of mine was adopted. Another is the Robert Frost poem that I think I've quoted before. First to my sister. She was adopted as an infant. My parents did a wonderful job of telling the story. As I recall the story it went something like
We wanted another child. We couldn't have one. So we began to look for one. And we met you in coffee shop with the social worker and fell in love. But we had to wait until we could take you home.There were a lot of details about the meeting. About her coming home. About love and anticipation. I think they began telling her the story before she could comprehend it.
Yet still she needed to discover who she was. She met, only once, her birth mother. I remember too my parents' incredulity about others who waited to tell their children or those whose children found out on the own. The incredible damage that that could do.
I think I understand that damage. In a sense I've been living it. My life was upended. My life was upended by the years of repression and suppression. It is as if I don't know myself and have never been able to know myself. Much like if I were to discover my adoptions papers as an adult. All is thrown into question. Nothing is trustworthy. Nothing is safe.
Frost's poem, "The Road not Taken."
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,I had the privilege today of meeting with a small group of people. It is a group that is aimed at keeping me accountable for the journey of separation from C. To challenge and support, to force (encourage) me to make tough choices and to make me remember those who will be affected. I asked to be held to remembering that regardless of anything else that I would like to be reminded that I am no longer at the point where I see the road diverging in a yellow wood. Because I have taken the other road and soon will reflect on way leading to way so that the divergence of roads is but a memory. I may be sorrowful that I cannot be one and travel both roads. But I cannot be split in two. I can no longer safely trod the other road. While it has appeal and seems the easier softer way, it has been a road that has not worked.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Leaving the group this morning my heart was heavy. It is good to be more open - not a strength. The group this morning and others help accomplish this - when I allow it. The blog too helps. The steps are scary.
Where we are:
- We've set a range of dates today - the first week in June - to tell the kids.
- We've begun discussing living arrangements. It doesn't help that this is something we both want to avoid.
- While not a trial separation, we've set a time frame of a year to reevaluate. Frankly, in part so I can hedge my bets.
- I need to be careful not to give up things I ought not. And to make sure I am accommodating where I can be.
- We need to talk about a time frame for moving out.
- We need to talk finances for the first year or so.
- Find a place that is safe for the kids and convenient to their schools.