My Mother and I met for a leisurely dinner at a half-way point between our homes. Both without husbands (both working) or children (brother at party, son at MIL's), we figured we'd indulge in our last chance to eat massive amounts of fattening food before the new year and new diets begin. As usual, our discussion turned to adoption.

I'm left unsure of what to think or feel.

For the first time, ever, my Mother and I openly talked about the time before and during Munchkin's placement. It wasn't a good time for our family.

While my Mother and I possess similar personality traits, we communicate in vastly different ways. She yells. When I hear yelling, I emotionally shut down; I don't listen and I don't talk. I hear absolutely nothing when voices raise. It's just the way that I cope with what I perceive to be negative confrontation.

It's New Year's Eve. I can't emotionally take time to process all of the new information that I just learned from my Mother tonight. Part of me is glad that she took the time to tell me these things about a time which is partially blocked from my memory in order for me to survive. Part of me is angry at the total collapse of communication that occured, especially with the whole hindsight being 20/20 epidemic. Part of me is really, really sad.

My therapist is going to get an ear full on the fourth of January.

In all, it was a healing conversation between me and my Mother. I honestly hope that we are able to have some more of these kinds of talks on this specific topic... but only after I get my rear end into my therapist's office and begin to make sense of this mess.

My Mom picks really weird times to tell me really big things. Then again, our family is slightly off kilter. In a good way, I suppose.

Happy New Year. May you be less confused than I am this evening!