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
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