Atalist's Dungeon

When I was younger, there was a boy I was always in love with. I could not explain the magnetism this boy had on me... he just had something, a sparkle, and I was enamoured. Throughout the years I grew into adulthood, this boy had a infintismal hold on me. childhood love, or rather the respect for what I saw... because that love was so pure, so genuine on both sides, and yet nothing ever came of it. I wonder if anyone else has experienced that.  A pure love that just sits and never amounts to anything but the joy that it happened? I sat there in my thoughts the other night thinking about this person who is a fully fledged individual and off in the world and I thought, wow that was something special... and then I started looking at the relationship and marriage I have now and was surprised to find that I found everything that i had wanted in that pure, early love, again but with my husband. It was also slightly eerie how similar they looked to each other, but that sparkle existed. T...

 I feel like I am on my own with all of this. I have been unlucky in the sense that when my sister did her 23andme, she found out everything in one go. People had already found out the information and she didn't need to delve too far to find out who her donor is. I did my 23andme and found out minimal information. Subsequent tests yielded more results but still no where in the realm of figuring out who this person is. It has been tricky and difficult to find out information. It is also an isolating experience because while my family is supportive, they are terrified that I am going to go digging for a new family.  Their fears are somewhat warranted in the sense that I am pissed off at them still, but they will always be my family and they have been trying to atone for past grievances. It's hard to talk to anyone about this because honestly, most cannot relate. I am a 40 year old IVF/ donor conceived child who recently found out and am coming to terms with all the lying and the...

 it is tibs eve in our house and I am listening to the quiet pitter-patter of my sister and her boyfriend downstairs.  I am trying not to be angry about the conversation I just had and the emotional regulation that is trying to be projected onto me. My sister doesn't want me to feel the way I do about my relationship with Mom. She has told me to stop talking about the way that I do and that I need to recognize that Mom loved us. While I get that my mother loved me, the truth of that is just as real as my experience with her was. The hardness and the difficulties I had with my own mother is still true at the end of the day. My experience with her is still the reality I grew up with and sugarcoating it because she loved me feels like a form of abuse. It reminds me of what the abused say in order to continually go back to their assailants. They love me, this was all just a misunderstanding. They loved me and it really wasn't that bad... They love me... all the while I can underst...