On Mourning.

I've recently been struggling with something that I never really acknowledged before: Grief. Grief in the fact that I have this one, in-tact, healthy, happy family who will, either for me fault or theirs, not fully accept me into the life they banished me from so many years ago. Grief in the fact that I have another family with whom I have banished, for their mistreatment, abuse, and unyielding selfishness throughout my life.

Earlier this year, I wrote about how my birthfather told me that he would have named me Amanda. I find myself thinking about her a lot. What would she have been like? What would her favorite movie have been? Would she love kids movies? What would her life have been like?

I won't ever know, and that plays a huge part in why I'm grieving. I try not to have a romanticized view of what my life would have been like, but I spent most of my childhood in abusive situations... it's hard to imagine that any other life would have been like that. But there would have been other heartbreaks that would have shaped me in completely different ways. My parents weren't together and, from the looks of it, would have never gotten along. That would have been its own stress.

I don't know. I don't have any answers and I know I never will. I just wish I'd stop finding more questions. I feel like I'm drowning in questions that no one will ever answer.