Last week, I wrote about my biological daughter, whom I gave up for adoption in, I think, 2007 in Syracuse, New York. To be more precise, I happily signed away and all of my parental rights, freeing her to be adopted by her foster parents. At no point did I ever really want her.
I did the bare minimum as a biological parent. I fed her, gave her fluids and changed her. I usually then plopped her into her crib with some toys and left her on her own while I watched TV and kept my websites up to date. At that time, I ran five websites and they took priority over her.
Sometimes, if she put up a fuss and cried about being left alone for much of the day, I’d bring her out to the living room and put something on TV for her while still ignoring her. Sometimes, though, she did something cute.
On one occasion, she was carrying her favorite toy around the living room. She dropped it and promptly said, “ah, shit!” The fact that she knew a curse impressed me and it further impressed me that she used it in context and she used it properly. But for most part, other than that, I really didn’t care what she did.
It was basically a two-year unpaid babysitting gig for me. Nothing less, nothing more. I never bonded with her in any material way and that would be because I never wanted her to begin with.
While I sat in the living room on the couch with my laptop, jumping around from one website to another, she would often toddle over and insist upon attention. More often than not, I would just ignore her, hoping she’d just go away. Still, she’d demand attention, so I would simply pick her up and plop her into her crib.
I don’t remember her exact birthday, but I do think that she will either become 21 this year or has already hit that milestone. I do know that her adoptive parents sent an envelope to my wife every year. That envelope would contain pictures and an update on her life. I cared about neither and I still don’t give a rat’s ass.
Even though I was typically the one to pick the envelope up from the post office, I never looked at what was inside. I simply didn’t care that much. So, I have no idea what she looks like and I have no idea what the yearly updates were all about.
Now, I will be honest: I know their address. It was always on the return address at the top left. It’s the same address as before. Do I care? No. Will I post it as addresses are public record when it comes to, say, voter registration records and property records? Hell, no.
To be honest, I haven’t confirmed whether the address is in one more both of those types of records. I may have been interested in those sorts of things in 2007, but not now.
As I stated before, the child was adopted into the Caruth family. I wouldn’t even begin to know what they’re up to careerwise or otherwise. So even though the address is probably within those two sorts of records, posting it would add nothing of value to the conversation.
Lest anyone think I’m wrong for posting their name, I would simply point out that I am posting nothing private. All of the information I am posting is publicly available through one source or another.
What scares me, though, is this: New York State has an Adoption Information Registry. As an adopted child, she apparently has the right to seek out information about myself or her birth mother. Assuming that she’d even want to know that information, she is not entitled to know anything about us. But, you can’t fight it. Not in this state, sadly.
So what brought on this follow-up article? An anonymous, malicious, vile scumbag emailed me information about my biological daughter, information that I did not want or need to know.
It’s kind of like when someone maliciously sends someone with epilepsy an email with a strobing light embedded within it. It’s that level of malice!
Fortunately, I was able to look away from her picture, but I couldn’t unsee the information about her. Why would anyone send me garbage, and she is garbage, like that?
On one other occasion, I almost saw a picture of my biological daughter by accident, but, without actually seeing anything, I managed to throw it and the envelope in the fireplace right where anything having do to with her belongs.
Let me put it this way: I don’t care if she’s even alive. If she’s no longer among the living, that suits me just fine. If she’s alive and doing well, then I still don’t care. I don’t know what’s going on with her and her family. I simply do not know.
What I do know is this: if either she or her adoptive parents show up at my place or if they contact me through any means whatsoever, I will promptly press charges for harassment and invasion of privacy. I will also immediately seek an Order of Protection, something that law enforcement takes very seriously in this state.
Wow, that was a long ramble! The underlying point of this article is for me to express in the strongest language possible that I want nothing to do with has anything to do with her.
I went to great lengths to ensure that my biological daughter got taken away from me. The family court system in Onondaga County took it upon itself to force me, under an official court order, to try to reunify with her. No one got the clue.
The truth is this: CPS did come along and take her away for various reasons. But since those reasons involve my wife, I will respect her privacy and not go into details. That was the best thing that I could have ever asked for me. Christmas came early. But, no, her mother just had to try to get her back, forcing me to become involved. In the end, though, I prevailed: I got her taken away once and for all!
What’s odd is that CPS took the child away from us out of one side of its mouth, but on the other side, they secured a court order that compelled me to try to get her back. That’s almost the very definition of insanity!
I finally had to get blunt, telling any of the service providers involved who would listen that I didn’t love her anymore. I actually went as far as to say that I never loved her, and that, folks, is not a lie.
I’m taking this threat –and I do consider it a threat– very seriously. Sending me information that I do not want implies that the sender is sending to them information about me. That is the threat.
If my biological daughter or the Caruths even so much as send me a friend request on Facebook, I will react and that reaction will not be nice. In fact, if they contact me by any means, they’re going to feel the wrath and suffer severe legal repercussions.
The worst mistake I made with her is not pulling out. And what if she reads this article and the preceding one? I simply don’t care. Maybe she does need to read this along with her family so that they can know that meeting up with me will never happen willingly. If they show up on my doorstep, then the police will be called. And they do tend to respond to domestic situations rather quickly.
Whomever sent me that information and photograph clearly knows the Caruth or at least knows of the situation. What he or she did is the absolute lowest of the low. I can’t think of anything lower than what that person did to me.
It’s kind of like I’m the Jew and the sender is the Nazi. The Nazi just tried to send me to the gas chamber by sending me the information and the photograph. Yes, that low down and dirty.
So if the Caruths, any of them, or anyone acting on their behalf, cross me, even all these years later, they will find out just what I’m capable of, and yes, it will be legal, because I will involve the police department and the courts.
Put it this way as to how little I care: if she dies and someone sends me the obituary, I will party like it’s 1699.