My life has been a long, tear stained trail of failed relationships.
My first failed relationship was with my Mother. This set the precedent. She didn't want me. She was forced to give me up, but when we met she told me she didn't want me. I was new. I was innocent. I was full of possibility. She didn't want me. Never wanted me.
The next failed relationship was with my adoptive parents. I couldn't be the ghost child. I couldn't be what I was supposed to be. I was, but wasn't. Do you know how hard it is to be a not real child?
The failures continued with friendships when I started school. I couldn't keep friends. I was weird. They told me I was weird. I was odd. I was quiet. I was different. Always different.
Then I hit the dating years. I was desperate. Desperate for love. For acceptance. For comfort. I gave myself away. Did what they wanted. Thought less and less of myself. Took abuse. Listened to lies about myself. Always them. Never me. Never me. Never me. I would give anything to tell that girl to go get help. Stop. Just stop.
Failure at marriage. I'm on number 3. First one was at 17. I was pregnant. He was mean. I was gullible. I was scared. So very scared. I was lonely. I'm lonely in a roomful of people. I was lonely in a room of 2. My baby was born with disabilities. He said it was my fault. Always my fault. Everything my fault. I loved my baby. I didn't love him. He never let me forget it was all my fault.
My second marriage was done out of depression and desperation to not feel the loneliness. Didn't help. Loneliness only increased. He lied about the sky being blue. He lied about money. Lied about mail. Lied about literally everything. I had my second baby. Another love. Another person I failed. He took her once. Took her away. I went back so she would be with me. That didn't last long. And of course it was all my fault. Always.
My third marriage is now. I'm a failure. Its a failure. I'm not leaving because society said I've left enough. I feel lost most days. I'm still lonely. I've accepted that when you start lonely, you stay lonely. I was alone and thats where my comfort point is. Alone.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Mother's Day and Adoption
I went to church today. Not unusual for a Sunday. As an adoptee, I always brace myself for the next offensive thing that is going to be said on days such as this. I'm a mother, so this day should be one to celebrate. Right?
As I sat in church, I was prepared for something to be said. Something about mothers who are waiting, barren wombs, etc. You know, general stuff about women who aren't mothers on a day set aside for mothers. Then it happened. There was a "spoken word" rhyming video (we go to a trying-to-be-hip church).
Barren women, wombs that are empty, arms that are empty, and the BLESSING of adoption and the GIFT of a baby. So I had to get up and go to the bathroom. My hands were shaking and they didn't stop through the rest of the service.
These are society's perception of adoption. Blessing, meant to be, gift, answered prayer.
These are not my perception of adoption as an out of the fog adoptee. And its ok for me to feel the way I feel. At 45 years old I can finally admit my true feelings about adoption. I wrote down several points while the preacher was still on stage, because I couldn't pay attention to anything else that was said. So here were my thoughts during the service.
First, this is society's belief about adoption. This is the pretty little ribbon wrapped box that society likes put things like adoption in. I was a gift, after all. Right? Unfortunately when we open the box and examine it for what it really is, the picture changes. We see a woman who is pregnant or just given birth to a baby. A real human baby with DNA tied to a family. We see a woman and her child who have bonded through a pregnancy. This baby knows the woman's voice. Knows the woman's smell. Knows the rhythm of the woman's body. Society accepts that its ok to take this baby away from this woman. The very lifeline of the baby. All the baby knows and all the baby wants. And the woman becomes a "birthmother". A name given to women to minimize the role she has played in another human coming into the world. The mother is gone. The baby is lost and afraid. Trauma is stamped on a human soul forever.
Second, for too long I have written off these hurtful things that people say and do as that people are unaware, insensitive, and uneducated. I've tried to start educating people when they offend. This is generally not accepted well. I get told, more often than not, that I don't know what I am talking about. Of course, how would I? Ive always lived with adoption. I've always been an adoptee. People don't want to be educated on adoptee trauma. And believe me it is trauma. When you unwrap the box and the pretty bow falls away, the raw truth of the pain and trauma involved in adoption is too much for so many people. Trauma is inflicted on the adoptee each time someone minimizes an adoptees self proclaimed truth.
Third. the adoption story is adoptive parent centric. The "triad" (I hate this term), is made up of the mother, the adoptive parents, and the adoptee. Society deems the adoptive parents as the most important part of the triad. The adoptive parents receive the gift. The child is so lucky to have been "chosen" by such a fine couple! What a blessing they are for that child! Why is this? These beliefs are at the very core of the adoption industry that is in full force in the US today.
Fourth. I don't see adoption as biblical. I don't see adoption as a tenant of the christian faith. I've heard this so much. This has made me want to give up my religion altogether. Its made me not go to church. Its made me dread church. I can't fathom that a God who is supposed to love me grew me in one woman's uterus only to be born, have the woman not be able to hold me, let me stay in care for 3 months before being adopted, have bonding problems with my "new" parents, have a lack of trust with others, have my trauma cause deep depression and have suicidal ideations each day of my life. I can't see how people think God would put the wrong baby in someone else's body. I can't put it together enough to connect God with those things. The pain of relinquishment and adoption is too great. Adoptees are over represented in contacts with mental health providers. We are more likely to have depression, anxiety, even ADHD. Adoptees are 4 times more likely to commit suicide than the average person. Let that sink in. Damage is done when the primal wound is given. Trauma inflicted by the church.
These are just a few points I wrote on the back of my "listening guide" at church. I've been wounded enough at church. I don't want to go back. I don't want more rainbow unicorn farts blasted in my face.
I will never be my true self, because my self split when I was adopted. I had to become someone else. I had to become the ghost child. The child that never was by a random couple who picked me up one day in November of 1972.
Here are just a few of the buzzwords I wrote down about MY adoptee truth-
Alone
Abandoned
No Self Worth
Not a gift
Not a blessing
REAL PERSON
Never fit in
Depression
Anxiety
Never enough
Not worthy
Sad
Deserved more
Always lonely
Unable to have relationships
Always hungry
Don't ask me to feel sorry for the barren womb women. Its not a mother and child's responsibility to have endless traumas inflicted upon themselves in order to fulfill some woman's dream. It wasn't my responsibility to be the answer to a prayer or a gift. I lost everything when that happened.
As I sat in church, I was prepared for something to be said. Something about mothers who are waiting, barren wombs, etc. You know, general stuff about women who aren't mothers on a day set aside for mothers. Then it happened. There was a "spoken word" rhyming video (we go to a trying-to-be-hip church).
Barren women, wombs that are empty, arms that are empty, and the BLESSING of adoption and the GIFT of a baby. So I had to get up and go to the bathroom. My hands were shaking and they didn't stop through the rest of the service.
These are society's perception of adoption. Blessing, meant to be, gift, answered prayer.
These are not my perception of adoption as an out of the fog adoptee. And its ok for me to feel the way I feel. At 45 years old I can finally admit my true feelings about adoption. I wrote down several points while the preacher was still on stage, because I couldn't pay attention to anything else that was said. So here were my thoughts during the service.
First, this is society's belief about adoption. This is the pretty little ribbon wrapped box that society likes put things like adoption in. I was a gift, after all. Right? Unfortunately when we open the box and examine it for what it really is, the picture changes. We see a woman who is pregnant or just given birth to a baby. A real human baby with DNA tied to a family. We see a woman and her child who have bonded through a pregnancy. This baby knows the woman's voice. Knows the woman's smell. Knows the rhythm of the woman's body. Society accepts that its ok to take this baby away from this woman. The very lifeline of the baby. All the baby knows and all the baby wants. And the woman becomes a "birthmother". A name given to women to minimize the role she has played in another human coming into the world. The mother is gone. The baby is lost and afraid. Trauma is stamped on a human soul forever.
Second, for too long I have written off these hurtful things that people say and do as that people are unaware, insensitive, and uneducated. I've tried to start educating people when they offend. This is generally not accepted well. I get told, more often than not, that I don't know what I am talking about. Of course, how would I? Ive always lived with adoption. I've always been an adoptee. People don't want to be educated on adoptee trauma. And believe me it is trauma. When you unwrap the box and the pretty bow falls away, the raw truth of the pain and trauma involved in adoption is too much for so many people. Trauma is inflicted on the adoptee each time someone minimizes an adoptees self proclaimed truth.
Third. the adoption story is adoptive parent centric. The "triad" (I hate this term), is made up of the mother, the adoptive parents, and the adoptee. Society deems the adoptive parents as the most important part of the triad. The adoptive parents receive the gift. The child is so lucky to have been "chosen" by such a fine couple! What a blessing they are for that child! Why is this? These beliefs are at the very core of the adoption industry that is in full force in the US today.
Fourth. I don't see adoption as biblical. I don't see adoption as a tenant of the christian faith. I've heard this so much. This has made me want to give up my religion altogether. Its made me not go to church. Its made me dread church. I can't fathom that a God who is supposed to love me grew me in one woman's uterus only to be born, have the woman not be able to hold me, let me stay in care for 3 months before being adopted, have bonding problems with my "new" parents, have a lack of trust with others, have my trauma cause deep depression and have suicidal ideations each day of my life. I can't see how people think God would put the wrong baby in someone else's body. I can't put it together enough to connect God with those things. The pain of relinquishment and adoption is too great. Adoptees are over represented in contacts with mental health providers. We are more likely to have depression, anxiety, even ADHD. Adoptees are 4 times more likely to commit suicide than the average person. Let that sink in. Damage is done when the primal wound is given. Trauma inflicted by the church.
These are just a few points I wrote on the back of my "listening guide" at church. I've been wounded enough at church. I don't want to go back. I don't want more rainbow unicorn farts blasted in my face.
I will never be my true self, because my self split when I was adopted. I had to become someone else. I had to become the ghost child. The child that never was by a random couple who picked me up one day in November of 1972.
Here are just a few of the buzzwords I wrote down about MY adoptee truth-
Alone
Abandoned
No Self Worth
Not a gift
Not a blessing
REAL PERSON
Never fit in
Depression
Anxiety
Never enough
Not worthy
Sad
Deserved more
Always lonely
Unable to have relationships
Always hungry
Don't ask me to feel sorry for the barren womb women. Its not a mother and child's responsibility to have endless traumas inflicted upon themselves in order to fulfill some woman's dream. It wasn't my responsibility to be the answer to a prayer or a gift. I lost everything when that happened.
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
The Angry Adoptee
Anger. Its something we have all experienced, right? This week on one of my favorite podcasts, Adoptees On, anger was the topic at hand. It was difficult. Difficult to listen to and difficult to hear.
Anger is a constant companion for me. It ebbs and flows but it never leaves me. I'm angry at my mother of origin and my father of origin. I'm angry at my adoptive parents. I'm angry at the adoption machine that drives the market for fresh, womb wet babies. I'm angry at my spouse, so angry. Most of all I am angry at myself. I'm angry that I could not mutate into the biological child that my adoptive parents couldn't have. You see I never could live up to that ghost child. The child that should have been. I'm angry because I was cheated out of authenticity. I have no way of knowing who I was supposed to be or could have been.
My anger causes me to have pain. Physical pain. My anger hides as passive aggressiveness and hinders deep relationships. My anger causes me to distance myself form most human contact. My anger floods over into road rage.
My anger comes when I am told I was lucky to be adopted. My birthmother loved me so much that she gave me away. People actually tel me I have no reason to feel the way I do about adoption. They tell me adoption is all about love and happiness. This is not reality.
I'm angry at the trauma. The trauma that occurred when I was relinquished by my mother. The trauma from living for the first 3 months of my life with no one to truly care for me. I'm angry at the trauma of living with a family with whom I just did not fit. The trauma of childhood abuse. The trauma of adult abuse. The trauma led to problems that manifested as ADHD, Anxiety, Low Self Esteem, and Social Anxiety- just to name a few.
I'm angry at being damaged property. The almost good enough child and adult.
I've started this journey to help myself. I've started this journey to talk about myself and find a way to move forward.
Anger is a constant companion for me. It ebbs and flows but it never leaves me. I'm angry at my mother of origin and my father of origin. I'm angry at my adoptive parents. I'm angry at the adoption machine that drives the market for fresh, womb wet babies. I'm angry at my spouse, so angry. Most of all I am angry at myself. I'm angry that I could not mutate into the biological child that my adoptive parents couldn't have. You see I never could live up to that ghost child. The child that should have been. I'm angry because I was cheated out of authenticity. I have no way of knowing who I was supposed to be or could have been.
My anger causes me to have pain. Physical pain. My anger hides as passive aggressiveness and hinders deep relationships. My anger causes me to distance myself form most human contact. My anger floods over into road rage.
My anger comes when I am told I was lucky to be adopted. My birthmother loved me so much that she gave me away. People actually tel me I have no reason to feel the way I do about adoption. They tell me adoption is all about love and happiness. This is not reality.
I'm angry at the trauma. The trauma that occurred when I was relinquished by my mother. The trauma from living for the first 3 months of my life with no one to truly care for me. I'm angry at the trauma of living with a family with whom I just did not fit. The trauma of childhood abuse. The trauma of adult abuse. The trauma led to problems that manifested as ADHD, Anxiety, Low Self Esteem, and Social Anxiety- just to name a few.
I'm angry at being damaged property. The almost good enough child and adult.
I've started this journey to help myself. I've started this journey to talk about myself and find a way to move forward.
Friday, April 28, 2017
Starting At The Beginning
Its so hard to start at the beginning, when you were alone and don't really know anything about it. I was adopted. I guess thats the beginning. When I think about it, I'm overwhelmingly sad. I was born as the result of two young people living together in a hippie boarding house in New Orleans. Near the House of the Rising Sun (really). This is so strange to me, such a strange concept. At the same time it is very familiar, familiar in my very soul.
The way I was conceived and born is at complete opposite from the way I was raised. Which one is right? Which one is me? This question gets louder and louder in my brain the older I get. I wish I had taken the time to answer it when I was younger. I was in such a hurry to meet someone who was biologically related to me that I didn't take the time to figure myself out and got pregnant at 17. My life has been very unpredictable since. Its been driven by PTSD and constant struggles with traumatic experiences.
I'm struggling, as an adoptee. I'm struggling as a family member to both my adoptive and birth families. I'm struggling as a human.
I've decided to start trying to blog to help myself. To tell my story. My story is important. It could help me. It could help someone else. Stick with me here and we will embark upon a telling of one persons weird start and wild ride. And I will survive.
I'm ready to start telling the story of Alicia
The way I was conceived and born is at complete opposite from the way I was raised. Which one is right? Which one is me? This question gets louder and louder in my brain the older I get. I wish I had taken the time to answer it when I was younger. I was in such a hurry to meet someone who was biologically related to me that I didn't take the time to figure myself out and got pregnant at 17. My life has been very unpredictable since. Its been driven by PTSD and constant struggles with traumatic experiences.
I'm struggling, as an adoptee. I'm struggling as a family member to both my adoptive and birth families. I'm struggling as a human.
I've decided to start trying to blog to help myself. To tell my story. My story is important. It could help me. It could help someone else. Stick with me here and we will embark upon a telling of one persons weird start and wild ride. And I will survive.
I'm ready to start telling the story of Alicia
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