Ties That Bind Read Online Free PDF

who’d help the kids with most of their homework; especially Spelling, and English. Charles would assist them with their Math. He was good with numbers.
    I was self-taught in so many areas, which made the fact I only had an eighth-grade education easier to hide. I loved to read, and I tried to learn as much as I could on many subjects. Charles never thought any less of me for not having a high school education. Even so, I knew it was the one thing my children would get. I’d see to it.
    The children just stared at me. Charlie Jr. took it all in I suppose, Carole was trying to make sense of it all, and Peter…well, Peter couldn’t have cared less. He was too young. His concentration was on baseball, and football.
    As Carole became a young woman, she and I would have deep discussions about it. She never held it over my head; she’d just say every now and then, “Secrets aren’t good. It’s not a healthy way to develop and foster relationships.” I could hear the sincerity in her tone voice. I vowed to her, no more secrets.

Chapter Six
     
     
    I felt such a big relief – a weight had been lifted. Now I could begin to heal. Now that I’d included the kids, they were a little more curious and occasionally would ask me what I’d found out if they saw me on the computer or looking over documents. I created a binder to keep everything organized. Carole helped me by putting them in a protective sleeve, and as she placed them in the binder, she would read aloud what they said.
    “Mom, why does it say Irma was an inmate at the convent?”
    “I believe that’s the terminology they used back then when an orphan lived there. I’m not really sure, though. I guess it’s one of the mysteries, huh?” I said, loving that she was interested in my journey.
     
    ***
     
    After my last outburst with Carole, I promised Charles I would make an appointment with the doctor.
    “Pat…Carole came to me. She’s worried about you,” he said in his always calming voice.
    “I didn’t mean to slap her. It just happened,” I said in between sobs.
    “I know you’d never hurt any of the kids,” he said hugging me softly.
    “I think it’s time you talked to someone. I don’t care who, but a professional,” he said with a little more tone than he would typically use with me.
    I realized he was right. I loved my family so much. I had to break this ugly chain of always lashing out and for no reason. I needed professional help. I couldn’t let my adoption, or the hatred I felt for the only mother I’d ever known ruin my relationship with my own children or my husband.
    I made the appointment with my primary doctor, and she referred me to a psychiatrist. We’d meet once a week and just talk. She was instrumental in helping me let go of the hatred. She reminded me that many people suffered worse situations than I had. She also reminded me that we are all in control of our own destiny and that we can’t hold others responsible for the outcome. She was right. It was what Charles and I had taught our own children.
    “I understand completely what you’re saying. I believe it to be true,” I concluded to the doctor during one of our visits.
    “Believing is half the battle,” she said calmly.
    “How do I keep the bad thoughts from creeping back in?” I asked.
    “That’s the hard part, Pat. Not everyone is happy every second of the day. We have periods of sadness, and even to some extent, depression. You can’t let it rule your life. You have a lot to be thankful for.”
    “Oh yes, I sure do,” I said smiling thinking of my little family.
    “What you must do, if you can, is put it behind you. This doesn’t mean you forget. It’s part of who you are. You shouldn’t dismiss that. However, you’ve heard the saying, “Make lemonade”? I nodded I had.
    “I’ve been thinking about revisiting Sioux City,” I said.
    Nodding her head she replied, “That might be helpful.”
    “I haven’t mentioned anything to Charles about