Trying To See Blessing In My Life To Own It

       Trying to see the blessing in my life so that I can accept it for what it is. And believe I have it. Acknowledge my blessings, count them. Make them count. Take in the abundance. Maybe then I won't feel so low. I will have had a place in this world to call my own.

         I was wondering, do my grandmothers watch me? From heaven. Do they see me as the sole survivor for a life of truth? Continuing their namesake? A person on the path continuing theirs? Adoptees do not feel important, because they do not see tangibly that they are from a long line of ancestors. A path paved for them. To continue trying, to champion their ancestors' efforts. Geneology is important, where we come from does matter. Society chooses to be blind to this for the sake of peace in adoptive parent's lives. However, the adopted child feels like a ghost. Living in the past, trying to awaken his sleeping soul.

            I am grateful that I belong somewhere. That I know my heritage somewhat. That I know the family I came from, even thought they are partly cynical and partly over-religious without either being aware of their true selves. I am grateful that my Father's family is warm, and humbled from their broken childhoods where their mother was off-her-rocker and abusive emotionally and physically. I am proud of them and where I come from. They are beautiful humans. I am grateful for my good looks and talents. beautiful baby that has her grandmother's sharp looks and her grandfather's sweet nose and eyes. I am grateful for my strength and toughness that helps me carry on. And smile in the face of hate and haters. And lonely, lost-child grownups who pretend to know everything.