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A prayer

My adoptive mother hated me from the day they took me home from the hospital at age 9 days old. She had told her husband she didn't want to adopt a child -- she was barren, and the only sort of child she could have had and loved was her little cocker spaniel.

Her husband apparently threatened her with divorce if she wouldn't go through with the adoption. In her family you just didn't divorce. Also, he had 35 IQ points on her, weighed maybe 50-75 pounds more than she did, was five years older than her, stood at least 3" taller than she did, had a Bachelor's degree in Business Administration from the University of Southern California (she had barely graduated from high school), and had a good deal of money which he'd inherited from his father. And she was still deeply in love with him. So she agreed to go through with it. A couple of days after they got me home, he took her little dog to the vet to have it euthanized, telling her that "It might hurt the baby."

No wonder she hated me! Her husband set her up for that. I can forgive her hating me. But the thing is that it is possible she successfully cast a curse on me. At one time she told the school I went to in the 9th grade that she was taking me out of school because she had to find some way to punish me, that taking away something I loved was the only way she could punish me, and that as I loved that school and that 9th-grade term, it was the only thing she had to take away from me. And all my life has seemed like that.

Because I was taken out of that school -- they'd have given me a scholarship right through the 12th grade -- I was never able to go on to Cal Tech or any other university worth a damn, never able to get degrees in mathematics the way I should have (I loved math, by the way), never able to have the sort of career in the sciences I should have. When I was 18, in a foster home, the man I was engaged to then was killed in a car accident just three weeks before we were to have been married. My foster parents turned on me then, and I had to bear it for four more years during which I did get an Associate of Arts degree in math at Ventura Junior College. I tried going to the University of California at Santa Barbara, but bad health problems forced me to drop out. I never again was engaged to anyone. I had one great friend from age 29 to age 50 -- and utterly failed him, because of which he died. (A sin for which I can never forgive myself.)

Now the whole living world, Earth's biosphere, is dying. I'll give you two centuries before humanity becomes extinct, and four centuries before the biosphere collapses completely. In the meantime, my country has been ripped away from me by monsters like Obama, his hangers-on, and terroristic Islamists. At 70 years old, I am facing a short future of hunger, medical disasters, and utter loneliness. I am trying to do what I can in the meantime to make this a better world by sharing what I've studied over 50 years of the sciences and history with others so they can see and understand what's happening and try to correct it before it's too late.

And I wonder why G-d ever bothered making me be born, or why He never has stopped egregious child abuse the world over. Does G-d hate babies? Or is it up to us., and *only* us, to decide how to treat our children?

My adoptive mother got what she wanted, all right. I've lost everything ever worth having. I'll never again have anyone like my fiance or my best friend in my life, what there is left of it. I'll be all alone until the end. Is she happy with that? I went away and left her and her second husband and never looked back. She and he were far better off that way. And still they haunt my life, trying to make me say none of that happened. They seem to want something from me. It isn't love, and it can't be money or any other material thing, either. Why can't they just go away and leave me alone?

I pray for one thing before I die: that G-d somehow shows me that He didn't hate me when I was a baby, a child, a teenager, that at least then He did love me. I can't see how He could now, but it would be nice to know that one G-d did love me.

I can't cry for myself in the usual way. This is the only way I can. That's why I've posted this. I'm truly sorry if I've bummed you out, but I can't hold this in any longer. -- Yael Dragwyla



( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 30th, 2015 07:59 am (UTC)
Oh I am so sorry I didn't read this before I called you. You may not have known. I don't know if you had posted it by then, but I think, looking at the time stamp that you had. I am so sorry, for your pain. I am not sure that anything I say can make it better but certainly, if there is a G_d, that G_d would love you as he/she does all of creation. I think there are ways to experience that, and I've had glimpses of it here and there, but no words can adequately bring a person to that. Well, not in this comment.

It was great to connect though. I am glad I did call. We all have regrets -- and I've had my share. I hope that the days ahead feel a bit lighter in some way. Do take care my friend-
Mar. 30th, 2015 04:48 pm (UTC)
Max -- It was wonderful talking with you last night. I'm sorry if this post bummed you out. It's my way of crying -- I can't cry about myself at all, but I can write it out, and it helped. And maybe it will help convince people that child abuse of any kind, done to any child, is evil, wrong beyond telling. Jesus himself said, concerning those who would harm children and make them hate God, "it would be better for them [those adults, including predators on children] to have a millstone tied around their necks and be dropped into the sea." So mny people have this "Yeah, yeah, let's talk about something important" response when the subject of child abuse is brought up. Is it denial? Or are they guilty of it themselves? Or both? Maybe something like this post can make them realilze that the victims don't forget, and that many of them survive into adulthood and remember how they were treated as children -- enough to backfire on the perpetrators. Anyway, it was great to talk with you. I'll try calling you soon. You take care, now. Love always, Yael
Mar. 30th, 2015 10:01 pm (UTC)
No question, that is a rough hand of cards to be dealt growing up.

But you make your own successes, socially. Even if romance is not in your future, friends can be. Particularly with the internet, you can find like-minded people you want to spend time with. Be part of their lives, and they will be parts of yours.
Apr. 3rd, 2015 01:23 am (UTC)
I have this unfortunate tendency to alienste everyone around me when I open my mouth, always saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time, that sort of thing. That's been true all my life, or, at least, as far back as about age three, when I began talking fluently. At age 70, getting past that is futile -- it's ingrained in my brain, now, along with a number of phobias and panic-buttons that make it even worse. For that reason I stay pretty much to myself. Interacting with people on the Internet is one thing; interacting with them face-to-face is very much another. I can handle the former, but not the latter. I've lost so many friends over the years because of that, and because of my own stupidity -- my best friend was harrassed to death by my landlord because of that stupidity on my part (Gary, my friend, had just had his first heart attack, and Kevin, both Gary's and my landlord, harrassed him to death within a few days after Gary got out of the hospital, harrassed him right into his second and fatal heart attack, because I'd been idiot enough to let others, including Kevin, know I was going to get an inheritance from my adoptive mother and that I planned to use it to take care of Gary, and Kevin wanted to con me into giving it all to him, i.e., Kevin). Plus, I don't have a Bachelor's or Master's degree in anything, or a PhD, either, so the people I would otherwise do best with have no reason to think I have anything to contibute. Obviously I've got PTSD, but I'm allergic to the drugs that contrl it. I'm caught in a real Cstch-22, and all I can do is resign myself to it and wait to die. There's nothing else to do.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )


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Yael Dragwyla

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