My Sunken Place


Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!!!

Why do I still have this letter?

Why do I continue to torture myself like this?

I wrote this letter 15 years ago.  In the Spring of 2002. Desperately looking for a woman whom I believed would be desperately looking for me.

Lies.

All of it lies.

But I didn’t know then.

I wouldn’t know for another eight years that it was all lies.

I didn’t know then that this letter would represent everything that would lead me directly to my Sunken Place.

Each year, between writing that letter and receiving no reply, my heart died a little. My belief in love died a little. 

And the me that always believed in happy endings disappeared. 

Like a fairy tale princess, I fell asleep.

But….

As soon I gave up on the fairy tales….

Once upon a time, I started to become woke.  I started on a journey of self discovery, enlightenment and really started to find myself.  

I started to embrace who I was as a person. I started to accept my uniqueness.  I accepted that I was not “normal” and that I had chosen my path in life long before I came to earth and these feeling and beliefs helped me overcome years of depression and negetive thought patterns and behavior.

I started to heal.

I threw out the baby outfit that I had carried with me for years. The one outfit my birth mother had given me.  I released it.  I released the hope that I would find her.

In 2008, I started being ok with being adopted and not knowing who my birth family was.  I started being ok with my letter never being answered.

And then …

In late 2009, I hit a brick wall.  

This fucking letter re -entered my life.

Richard Krawczyk entered my life.

And he brought me that letter back and told me that the fairy tale was never real anyway. It was all a lie. My mother (his sister) died six weeks prior to him reaching out to me. She got the letter eight years  prior to that but never contacted me.  He didn’t know why.   She took her answers to the grave with her.

He got the letter eight years ago in 2002 but never contacted me until December 2009 because … well… because…

 His mother got the letter too but didn’t contact me because … well… because what would a fairy tale be without a wicked old witch and yes, to me, Faye Blakowski Krawczyk is a wicked old witch….

But….

You have a “dad” – his name is Larry, he said, so don’t despair.

You have a brother – his name is “Jesse,” he said, so don’t despair.

And I am here, he said- don’t despair, he said…..

My mother Margaret didn’t want you- she wanted trips to Paris and Austria and Germany and the MOMA and the Met more than she wanted to be my mom, but don’t despair…..

She was a devoted mother to my brother Jesse, but had no love for me, but don’t despair….

And the rest of the family said hateful things about me, but don’t despair…

And he would send all these pictures of the family gatherings that I was never invited to, but don’t despair….

And then came the kicker….

And Larry wasn’t even “dad” after all, so all the bullshit you dealt with meeting him was unnecessary, Margaret lied, but don’t despair…..

And then by 2012, Rich just disappeared, stopped sending cards to my children… just dropped off the face of the earth, but no big deal, don’t despair….

And Jesse is a self centered jerk who really wasnt worth knowing, but don’t despair…

So by 2012, I went back to sleep.

I said “Fuck this ‘woke’ shit- if this is what self awareness is all about, y’all can keep it.”  And I buried myself in soccer fields and basketball courts.

I always quote Soul Asylum’s song Runaway Train when it comes to this point in my process.

Got a ticket for a runaway train. Like a madman laughing at the rain. A little outta touch. A little insane. It’s just easier than dealing with the pain.

That was my life and how I felt.  I had to be outta touch.  I had to be a little insane.  Because the pain was too intense.

So I went back to sleep.

And then, I was recently re-awoken again by my Twin.  Because it’s time and it’s necessary.

Looking for something for him yesterday, I came across this letter again and FUCK!!!!

I am wide awake now and the pain is intense…

Because the love that I was lied to about all my life is now there on the surface.

The feelings that I have worked so hard to push  down and hide from are now feelings that I am in the process of lovingly embracing.

So being reminded that the love I believed in from my youth- the lies I clung to that got me through the loneliest times of my youth – is so very painful.  

I always thought “was I wrong to have loved so deeply? To have believed so strongly in a mother’s love?”  

I never thought it was wrong until I felt the let down of disappointment.  I never thought that believing in love was wrong until I felt the bitterness of the truth. 

Then I felt humiliated. And lost. Like I had wasted years.

I had wished upon the star and the dream just died.

That was never how the story was supposed to go.

So here I am AGAIN. 

Back at this space.

In the Sunken Place.

What do I do?

I want to burn this letter.  But I feel like it’s so much a part of me that to let it go would be to let go of the only part of me that has ever felt real.  

When I feel like my life is a wreck and I can’t find any direction, I want to find a way really shed this burden and shred this fake facade.

The part of me that woke up and start to feel hope feels so unreal.  It seems like every time I come down this road I have to face this woman.

She was simply the vessel who brought me into this existence.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Fuck Margaret Krawczyk.

How do let go of the dream that this letter represents?

How do I show love to these emotions and then just release them? Will I disappear too?

Will I always be stuck on that runaway train?

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About sjwoods318

Mother of six children - five girls and one boy; wife; community organizer, family chauffeur, philosopher, trans-racial adoptee, Deadhead, person of mixed racial heritage, artist, poet, writer who loves to swim, read, and run around with my family.
This entry was posted in Biography. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to My Sunken Place

  1. I’m on the train too!

  2. Pamela Karanova says:

    Beautiful heart felt piece.. I can resonate with so much of it. I came to the realization that I was clenching the pain of HER so tight because I had nothing else to clench… No memories, no nothing. It’s painful no matter how you slice it and I get it. Please know you aren’t alone and please KEEP WRITING! ❤️

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