I once joked with an online friend that our blogs would never be popular because we couldn't write a good rant. I rant rather decently in person, if I know you well enough. But I can't write angry.
Not that I don't try every now and then. In fact, I've been trying this week, writing and rewriting this post since Tuesday night, hoping to find some catharsis. But I could never bring myself to publish it.
Then I read Erin O's challenges for knowing when to speak about a difficult situation: "Is it kind? Is it necessary? Does it improve upon the silence?" And I realized that publishing what I had written would be little more than an attempt to make me look good at someone else's expense. Chastened, I erased it all and started over, trying only to leave what was necessary and removing what was unkind. Whether it improves upon the silence I will leave up to you.
Here is our latest family news: Puppy has a new baby sister, born to his first mom a week ago.
Puppy took in the surprising information in the same matter of fact way we presented it to him. "OK," he said. "Let's play trains."
I admit I'm not taking the news as well. Not because of the new baby (how can you be angry about a baby?) but because of some lies the birth revealed. It probably goes without saying now that the story I shared awhile back about K acting as a surro.gate was not true. I apologize for unknowingly giving you false information. I work very hard to be honest when I write. I believed it at the time, enough that I went through much heartache and fretting for K and for Puppy.
The surro.gacy turned out to be just one of many interwoven falsehoods told to us over the past several months. Stories I was expected to pass on to Puppy. Stories I am still expected to believe.
I once had a mentor who insisted that anger is never a primary emotion. There is always something underneath the anger and only by facing the thing beneath can you find release. When I dig down right now, more than anything I feel betrayed. Open adoption takes such a huge amount of trust to work the way it is supposed to. Over the past three years I have sometimes pushed myself to extend the benefit of the doubt when my initial response was skepticism, to trust that we all would put our concern for Puppy ahead of our own self-interest. Now I don't know if I'll be able to do that for awhile, or even if I should. I am unsettled and unsure about a relationship that seemed much more solid just a week ago. And so very sad about so many things.