The Greatest Fear

Today I got an Easter card at work from my adoptive mother. I haven't talked to her in nearly a year and a half. This sounds horrible, I know, but part of me hasn't missed it. All the card said was "I love you as you are, Mom."

Maybe you are thinking, "What's wrong with that? She sounds okay to me." I don't trust it. I don't trust her. I have a hard time putting it into words, but I think it's a front. Yes, I think she's lying to me. I want to believe her and trust her. More than anything, I want to have a real mother that I can talk to and trust. She doesn't even know where I live or have my home number.

Nearly 10 years ago (God, almost exactly 10 years ago) we had a screaming match to 4am where she prayed to God about how ashamed she was of me. Can you imagine how that makes a child feel? Then she wanted me to go to a Christian "counselor" in an entirely different state. After weeks and months of post-it notes on bathroom mirrors day and night and 12 page letters with Bible quotes, I couldn't imagine getting into a car, alone, with her and trusting her to not just get me there but to bring me back too. I've heard the nightmare stories and I didn't want to be a statistic.

The life, and inevitable, death we've heard this week of Terri Schiavo only makes my fears more pronounced. I don't want to be Terri. Locked in my body, my partner powerless to help me, as my family drags me off to an endless dark oblivion I never wanted. It's out there now in the land of the Internet for all to know. Don't let me end up like Terri. If I can't make my own choices over my body, my life, and my death, then let my partner and only my partner make that decision.