Journal Entry 33: the adoption, an absent father & the road not taken

We tend to repeat history, the same patterns reoccurring again and again. Relief. I took the first step by reaching out to an organisation about options, choices. I think we all want that. We want to feel like we’ve got a choice in the process, in our lives. We pretend like we have agency and maybe we do, but only to a certain extent. Sometimes life has other plans and it doesn’t give a sh*t about what you want.


We don’t actually live in a new feminist era. The patriarchy is still embedded into all political, social and economic realms. There has never been a female President of the United States, men still make legislative decisions about women’s bodies and our access to contraceptives. There is a near total ban on abortion in countries like Poland and the gender pay gap means there are long-term consequences to structural economic inequalities existing between men and women. When will change occur? 10 years? Yeah right, maybe never.


My father has been absent for the majority of my adult life. He wasn’t there for me during high school, he wasn’t there when I graduated or got acceptance into university. He only cared about the good parts and never gave a f*ck about the bad. Sometimes I feel that’s kind of what dads do. They don’t really understand how to approach or parent their daughters. Since the age of 13, I haven’t lived in a household with him in it. I can’t say I was raised by a single mum, but for the most part, it kind of feels like I was. History repeating itself once again. Being in relationships with men who can’t be present. Men who are too preoccupied with their own lives to care about anyone else but themselves. Men who will be absent fathers, just like my own. Men say they care, but it all feels a bit like a manipulation tactic. At the end of the day, we’ve all got to protect ourselves, no matter the cost.

Generations of women before me have made it work without a man in their life. If men act like sperm donors, don’t we have the right to treat them as such?


The poem, The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost is quite fascinating. It’s ultimately about two choices, which I find can be applied to many situations in my own life. I read the poem again and again, hoping to find new meaning.


My body aches. I’m tired. I close my eyes and try to rest but it sounds like the wind is howling. I can hear the rain hit on my window. Music is playing softly in the background but the sound of the rain becomes so violent it drowns out the beautiful melodic notes.


I’ve thought about leaving quite a bit. The only thing stopping me is access to good medical facilities and specialists. I’d eventually love to move back down home. When I do move back, I know I’ll create a home of my own. It is just a waiting game.

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