I haven’t spoken to anyone from my adoptive family, besides my Auntie Paula, since roughly October of last year. I’ve “run into” a few members at the grocery store since then but I always look the other way; hoping to avoid more confrontation.

Now I am faced with a choice:

Either talk to them and likely have the confrontation I’ve only had nightmares about (for months) so that I can get the rest of my childhood (which fits into one box – how depressing is that?)


Continue to avoid the confrontation and lose all of my childhood things?

You see, they are moving – out of the house I grew up in from 8th grade to graduation. The house I called home while I was married to Nick. The house I ran to when I left that situation. The house I was standing in when my soul shattered and I learned that my beloved, precious Granny had died.

I don’t know where they’ve moved to. I do not have the address. I haven’t asked and they likely won’t offer.

I have nightmares every night they – usually just Barb but I’ll cast nightmare blame on both – attempt to take the Boys from me. Sometimes by legal means. Or force. Even lying.

Then we fight. They scream. I scream. At first (8+ months ago) it was all rather cathartic – the screaming and fighting dreams/nightmares – because I was really making my voice heard for the first time. Now it just terrifies me.

The nightmares terrify me.

The impending face-to-face terrifies me.

Them moving.

It all just terrifies me.

* posted on the fly w/o the use of proper editing tools 😉 *

~ Lizzeann