He wants to hear my voice..

L and I have been exchanging information about his illegitimate birth.  It is ironic that he is in much the same boat I am in with my mother.  His father died when he was very young and he spent his whole life wondering what it might have been like to have him as a father.  He didn't say that, but I know.  I know because he's doing everything he can to find out as much as he can, to include getting a DNA test done.  He wants to find relatives.  I can relate to this!  I know this desperation.

My Dearest Daughter Anna, I am so glad I found you

That is how he started his last email.  I started crying.  My inner shield maiden shouted "Do not let this distract you from the battle!" and  that little girl who sits in my head said "Maybe he is for real.  Maybe I could be a Dearest Daughter to him.."  The conflict made me dizzy.  I couldn't even concentrate on what he was saying.  I read words, but each was an island and didn't interact with each other to have meaning.  My husband asked if I was ok and I couldn't explain what was happening on the inside of me.  How do I explain this?

Rejection is easy.  

I am familiar with rejection.  They tell me all the reasons they can't love me.  I tell them it is their loss in very polite words.  They feel smug because they don't believe they are losing.  I go lick my wounds over some dishes so no one can see me cry.  Then I dive deep into a project that requires concentration so I stop thinking about rejection.  I post lots of pictures on Facebook because there are lots of people who "like" me there.  If the first project doesn't make me stop thinking about rejection, I dive into an even more complicated project to reinforce the habit.  I am so good at rejection that I do it on autopilot.  And this explains why I know how to plaster walls, bake, sew, crochet, draw, paint, quilt, decipher DNA results, knit and a multitude of other ridiculous skills I have forgotten about.  Some people think I am creative.  Nope.  I am just a reject junkie who uses Youtube like an alcoholic beverage.  I get drunk on creative chaos for a while and then wean myself off to reenter real life.

I want him to love me.  I want to love him back.

That little girl inside my head is winning this argument.  She hasn't been loved unconditionally, by a living human parent figure, since she was eight years old.  She believes in miracles and she has been really patient.  Dearest Daughter.  When was the last time she was anyone's daughter?  Really a daughter.  Not just a temporary verbal kindness handed out like a cookie for good behavior.  It doesn't even matter that he has never kissed a boo boo or grounded me.  That little girl inside my head thinks she needs him.  She is wiggling around my Shield Maiden and ducking under the shield.  She is tugging on the spear and fighting my Shield Maiden from her unguarded rear.  She wants this so badly.

Back to reality Warrior!

I read the rest of his letter and reread it to gain clarity on dates and information regarding his conception.  His mother sounds like an interesting character and I would love to know more about her.  His father has a history that I would like to learn more about.  He was a German Catholic.  Wow!  That is not something you see every day.  L even told me some of his reflections on the events and revealed that he spoke to his nephew, but didn't reveal that he was related.  The information is very interesting and I need to correct some dates and put some notes in my family tree.

I hope to talk to you soon Just to hear your Voice. Thank you for searching for me too. I really didn’t believe your mother knew who your father was and I needed to know. I am so sorry I missed your growing up. Your Father L

He is sorry he missed me growing up.  That is not the first time he has said that.  I have been so good about skimming over those words.  My shield maiden has protected me very well all the other times.  But this time, that blasted little girl read those words and she got into the fray and started battling from behind. I feel like this little boy..

I told him he could call me anytime he wanted to and gave him my schedule and my phone number before the Shield Maiden could let out a battle cry.

How do I communicate how this feels?  Words are worthless.  I say them and they fall like nonsense out of my mouth.  I just cry.  It is the only thing that makes any sense.  I have been crying off and on for two days now.  I can't even explain why.  I might have to pull clean dishes out of the cupboards soon.