There are plenty of blog postings that will describe events and circumstances that surrounded my particular estrangement. The circumstances aren't particularly earth shaking taken one by one as an instant in time. As pieces of the story, however, they lack the deeper meaning and understanding as to why I will no longer connect with the very people whose "accident" created the collection of cells, nerve endings, muscle, and bones that make up me. Let's just say, I got the message. The only interest in me that my makers have is to take the place of what they would like to strike out at instead. To me, I am simply that thing they would like to hurt. Once I figured this out by stepping back and taking a really hard look at our "relationship", I knew the right path to take.
It has not been an easy path. It has not been an easy decision. As choices go, this choice has been the right one for me. I could no longer allow certain boundaries to be crossed by people who were not even interested in me. Certain hurts could not continue and allow me to grow into myself as a person. Someone had to stop it, and that person had to be me.
After all, my makers did have a benefit in keeping the relationship alive with me. The only person that did not benefit was me, and so I had some hard and painful things to come to grips with.
I will set up a page of details for those not familiar with my story. This is just the summary version that I give to people who are interested, and to whom I may not want to bash "my creators" to.
While I certainly do let loose my anger onto the blog, it is in fact to release something in me. "My creators" know where this blog is, and sometimes visit it, but they also know it is not for them. It is simply my cheap therapy to myself, and a way to help the so many others that need to deal with the realities of relationships that really were never what they should have been.
In that vein, I will allow some of the details leading up to the estrangement to be viewed on a different page. So many parents don't know (or say they don't know) how they got there, and this is my road map (which can not go into every detail) of how I got there at least.
I should post the length of time I have been on this road of awareness. My female donor and I became estranged when I was 29 in 1995. It was not my intention to become estranged at first. Many things happened (and frankly continue to happen) to make it become the best choice for me. In 2005, some major events happened in my life, and the male donor became involved in such a way, that our relationship became obsolete. As it was our relationship involved maybe three hours of superficial conversation a year, or him and his wife continually making demands on us.
I didn't even realize at the time the damage that was being done to me by keeping this superficial relationship alive "for appearances". These last five years, I feel I have grown and blossomed without that wilting influence that told me that I was the bottom of the barrel, the afterthought, the accident, and the one to be called upon when more important people didn't want to do something.
It was in fact the boldness of my saying "no" once to each of my donors that set these strings of events off. Their response and actions to that were not the actions of people that love or even like their offspring. I deserve better, and I know that there are others out there that deserve better as well.
In closing, the estrangement is not about how my parents WERE when I was growing up. It's about how my parents are. I would say that they have not matured or changed, but it's worse than that. Their personalities and ways of dealing with "their resource" just seem to get uglier and uglier. I have changed, and probably not the better for THEM, but the better for me and those that actually care about me and are currently with me in my life in a positive not to be confused with perfect participatory fashion.
In the "Nitty and Gritty page" I do detail some of my childhood. I don't hold a grudge because of it, but it is to illustrate the lack of an initial bond that was there for me. Perhaps my donors felt very bonded to "their accident" and verbal/emotional punching bag. That is them, and this is me. I did not feel a bond. I felt the need to escape as soon as I was able.
Perhaps that is not entirely true, as I did dance for them for quite awhile. I really had not faced up to the situation as yet, or why they treated me like they did. I felt deep hurt through my childhood and young adulthood when thinking of my donors, and never knew quite why until I really stepped back.