WyzWmn's World©

I’ve been thinking about ethics and integrity again…

Each time I examine what exactly it is that makes me “tick” I find that there is some little moral to the story to be found – that things maybe aren’t as black and white as they seem in the heat of the moment.

I recently did one of those Meyers Briggs type tests where ya fill in a bunch of yes and no questions and once it’s all done they tell ya what “type” you are.

I am Joe Normal.

What a concept…that someone as puzzled as I am could be considered normal…I used to see myself as cutting edge…or wise…or at the very least smart…and now I just see myself as a work in progress…

Which brings me to my epic thoughts of the day….once upon a time I belonged to a club of women from all over the world for and for a couple of years I reveled in the “belonging”…I started out as a “wanna be” and then graduated to a “maybe” and then became an official part of the sisterhood…

To the outward eye this club was everything that I needed at that time in my life – and I guess I got into it with some sort of naivete. I really felt from my heart that these people that I was involved with were an integral part of my life…I laughed with them, I cried with them, I loved them and I thought that they loved and respected me…

…but what happens in life is that eventually people prove themselves to be infallible or human and when yer not watching the proverbial hits the fan…(pay attention now…this is where the great moral question comes in to play…)

So to proverbial hits the fan and the group splinters…and while I am heart broken to loose all of these people that had become my sisters, I had to, for the sake of my “integrity” err on the side of the people that I believed in…the people that I had held in such high esteem that I had joined the group in the first place….the people that I was so sure wouldn’t play games with my integrity.

Long story short…there was no right or wrong. There was no black or white. What there actually was was perceptions of grey. Some hateful things were said to me in the heat of the moment. Over a very short period of time (possibly a month or two) I found out that I’d been lied to and as a result I severed all ties with everyone…both sides of the fence.

So now here I am – a year or so down the road – and I find that I don’t care that I was lied to by some, and I don’t care that there was some mean/disrespectful things said to or about me…what I care about is that I miss those relationships in my life…and I wish with all my heart that the mean or disrespectful things had never happened….that I hadn’t judged nor been judged

I wish that those people that I left behind knew that I forgave them their anger, that they knew that “things” are almost never as they seem…and that at the end of the day…forgiving is possibly the most important integrity one can live by.

Do I believe that this is proof that I was right and they were wrong?…No…it’s simply proof that time changes reality…and that life is relative to the moment…not the past nor the present…

and that, as they say, is enough thinkin for one day!

I had a child when I was 18 and gave her up for adoption.

I wasn’t in college at the time – I was pretty much a lost soul (drugs and trouble a go go – every parent’s nightmare) but I had it in my head that this child I was carrying would be the “saving” of me and that I should carry her and give birth and by some kind of miracle we would both live happily ever after.

The Voice of Doom (aka my mom) in her infinite wisdom – hussled me off to see a counsellor…whom I saw for about 6 mths of the pregnancy. This counsellor was able to assist me in “growing up” enough to make an adult decision about the future life of my child.

Through the counselling I was able to come to the understanding that my pregnancy wasn’t to be taken lightly. That I should be responsible enough to make an adult and educated decision on behalf of the child I was carrying as opposed to a childish selfish decision for myself. So I made the decision to give her up and did so without ever seeing her. She was adopted by 2 Dr’s in Eastern Ontario Canada…and that’s all I know about her life.

Toughest thing I have ever had to do (and beleive me when I say that there have been some close seconds in my life cos I ain’t done much the easy way – but none harder)

I look back from 50 at the path I travelled and understand now that it was in fact the best decision I could have ever made. For both of us. I was young and inexperienced and on a long road to trouble. A road that I would have likely hauled her along on. Eventually it came to pass that I realized that I needed to continue to “grow up” and I still consider myself a work in progress.

I have never tried to contact her, but I have registered so should she try to find me she can.
This I know…every parent thinks of their child or children at some point in time in each and every day. It’s the very nature of parenting. In the instance of having given a child up for adoption, one does not think of the child less often, one simply must come to the understanding that one’s thoughts can only be conjecture and pray that all the good conjecture has come to fruition for your child.

And that is the hardest part of all.