I’m at my trauma therapist right now. We are going to do EMDR and dig deep. I’m so nervous. Growing and learning about my trauma and loss isn’t easy. It sometimes hurts like hell. Denying that my parents hurt me has been the ” easy” way. I’m so used to self- loathing, to shame , to never being Enough and to people I love leaving. Exploring all of that is painful.Flash to now: About 18 hours post session. We dug out horrible, disgusting pieces yesterday. Pieces that I’ve never verbalized. Shame fills me even now. I wish I undo it all. After therapy yesterday, I felt spent and tired. Went home , started dinner and my stomach went full on IBS. My back that has stopped hurting, zapped me again with electricity. Of note is that during this time , my mom found out yesterday she’s dying sooner than she thought. Another post. I had a lot of Cbd last night. I felt wonderful. Still noticed areas of pain , but not severe. Still no thoughts on therapy. Isn’t dissociate great ? They came. Whether in vivid dreams or awake in the dark. Reliving awful painful events. Dark secrets meant to drown in the dark. Woke up with a severe migraine this morning. Nausea and diarrhea. Thought of all I was and did. Also , who I am now. I’ve lived my second life atoning every second. Forgiveness isn’t allowed. Self sentencing at its finest. Took a lot more Cbd. Head doesn’t hurt. Numb. Alive. Existing. This post was started on another topic. Obviously, the therapy took it somewhere else.
I find this is my pattern now. It’s somewhat safe, and doesn’t bother those around me. Feeling, remembering, reliving, and all that goes with adoption and childhood trauma is exhausting for those that are in your life. Being numb as possible lightens the load of acting like ” I’m Fine”.
What can a person say to you when you’re crumbling, trying to breathe and hoping lightening will strike you? I’m sorry. It puts you and them in a helpless situation. Everyone knows my story, probably far too well. And, I’ve found that the way my life ended up causes them anxiety. I hate that. Their story may have a much greater ending than mine.
They will have a reunion, meet their adult child and get to hold them, smell them and gaze at their hands. Sounds strange? Can you imagine carrying your baby and having your parents tell you that she’s not welcome? That you shamed them. We want to see them with every breath we take.
Triggers such as Birthdays, new grand babies being born and marriage cause many of us to crash. All the things we thought we’d be part of we aren’t. Though 96% of Adoptees do want contact , there are the 4%. I’m one of them.
You can get caught in woulda, coulda, shoulda for decades. But, the hard truth is you can’t get the time back. You must mourn the baby you lost and for many, do the work for reunion. Even if you are totally prepared, there is no guarantee .
They Adult Adoptee made no promises to us. They don’t owe us anything. We can hope for kindness and a relationship, but don’t hold your breath for that balloon airport meeting.
They often go back and forth. I understand why they do. We abandoned them, even if we didn’t choose to. It’s as simple as that. Why should they trust us? We will probably just leave again, right?
I am stuck , as my therapist says, at the time I lost her. The pain, grief, and powerlessness is profound. Yet, if she hadn’t been born, the world wouldn’t be as wonderful for her and her family. She’s an amazing mommy. I’m so proud of her. I saw just that picture of her new son and knew that whatever I’ve gone through and will in the future has meaning.
My three children are my legacy. I suppose that caring for the critically ill for more than 25 years is a legacy, too. I did something that mattered, and it has to be enough. I lay no claim to their success’s. They have done so well on their own.
I’ve disconnected from this life. I feel far away. It’s safer that way. Just mark the days and expect Nothing. No disappointment can get me anymore if you have no hope.
I’ll continue to help other Moms and children. I will be here for my Adoptee Sisters , too. Adoptionland is huge and I’m an old pro at this. I’ll be past 70 when this new baby grows up. If I’m still here. No matter. I honestly think I’ve done my part.
Others expectations of me are exhausting and I’m too sick for all of this. It’s dramatically impacted my health. Autoimmune diseases are very high among those impacted by adoption. The body can only take so much pain.
I pray for those struggling and it breaks my heart every time I hear we lost another Sister. Adoptees are 4 times more likely to commit Suicide than those not adopted according to the American Pediatric Society.
I don’t think I’ll see a change to Adoption in my lifetime. I pray it changes and only happens when there is NO other way. Guardianship is a way to help children without them losing their identity and history. No more fake birth certificates that say the Adopters gave birth. No more sealed records for adults that want to know their origin.
Sweet dreams tonight. I’ll be up wishing I could change so many things. I’m over 30 years into this and my brain still tries to find a way out of this continuous nightmare. It’s futile. As my beloved Nana would tell me, ” What is, is”.
Day after day I sit here and know that I’m meaningless. I’ve isolated myself to the point of not even existing. My heart beats and air moves through my lungs, but , nothing more. Feeling anything seems impossible. I’m not mad, sad, or anything.
If this is acceptance, I’m there. Zero hopes or dreams. This is my lot in life. I’m responsible for all of it. I Own it. If only I hadn’t….. everything.
I try not to count days, count on people, or count my losses. I try not to think and it’s becoming easier. I’m slowly fading away. My family won’t notice. Family. Yeah. Thick or think, that’s the idea. Right? I’m disposable. That’s a fact. I’ve been replaced easily and that finally gives me some comfort that they will do so when I’m gone.
Post a picture of my dog. She’s “fine”. It’s so much easier to think someone is okay than to climb into the mud and pull them out. It’s no ones responsibility but my own.
I’ve lost too much to ever be alright. As Adoptees put it , ” She’s too damaged “. They are really right. You can’t change time.
The future holds nothing but a calendar, a very empty one. When you truly believe you’re worthless, you understand why people forget you. It’s logical. No offense taken. One can only expect so much of anyone.
I wish everyone a wonderful life. They deserve it. Fait has other plans for me. I do have a legacy. I had 3 wonderful children that are amazing adults and their achievements and success are part of me, even if they wish it not so.
When I’m gone , they will have beautiful long healthy happy lives. What more could a mother want? Remember my name. I existed once.
No worries. Off to trauma therapy.
Being part of Adoptionland is both a extremely painful place to live and so full of busy things to do. Sadly, you have hundreds of Sisters and Brothers that are on the same journey as you. But, they are literally your lifeline. No one that hasn’t either been abandoned as an Adoptee or had their baby snatched by Adopters knows how the feelings of this impact every area of your life.
Your home life is a mind field that your family tiptoes through every single day. ” Did you see the show on TV last night?”. Oops! It mentioned adoption. Never mind. They don’t remember every trigger day. Who could except someone that feels as you do? There’s the Birthday, the Gotcha Day, the day the open adoption closed, the many birthdays of your grandchildren you’ll never meet, and the second day of rejection. That’s only naming a few. You try to hide your grief because it makes others uncomfortable.
We come up with important projects of help for others, we counsel one another for endless hours, we rejoice if someone gets their miracle, and weep with shame that they were enough and we still aren’t. We go to conferences to both learn to heal and feel we are with family, our adoption family. They won’t judge our tears for they have their own. We blog , we share articles about new laws , and make plans on how to fight them if they are hurtful. We fight every single day to obtain Original Birth Certificates to maybe glean a new fact and know our heritage.
I’ve been taking mini breaks from this world on the advice of my trauma therapist. How can I move one baby step if all I do is think about Adoption? Unfortunately, everything seems and feels like adoption is in vogue and tv and movies theme around it.
I’ve been playing mindless games I swore I’d never do. I search YouTube for videos of people like me. I have a dozen new books written by talented Adoptees that I hope will be the magic balm to heal my stuck heart and mind.
I’ve “met” so many amazing people on this path. People that are far ahead of me in healing and those newbies that are in the fog. The fog, both helpful for not knowing you’re a disaster and horrible because it covers the pain of the truth.
My health is not great and so many of us have autoimmune diseases probably added onto by the trauma and C-Ptsd. When you lose your first baby and it wasn’t something you ever wanted to do or if you were the innocent that were abandoned by your parents, both usually equal a huge break in your life. There is No getting over “it”.
It is both children and parents, siblings and grandchildren. Adoption weaves it’s way through generations and it shows its ugly face at the worst , lowest moments in your life.
I don’t do baby showers. I’ve held my own children and one of my Adoptee Sisters. It’s too huge of a risk that I’ll dissolve into a sobbing wreck of what pretends to be “fine”.
I’m doing genealogy now. It’s both comforting and horribly sad to see all of these people I’ll never know. Loss is a big part of Adoptionland and we have all lost enough. We are usually hyper vigilant about our families and friends. We seek to see if they left us , because everyone else has. Why would they stay? We weren’t enough to love by our own family. My parents didn’t love me enough or their granddaughter to save us. And, my list daughter is about to have her 5th baby. Add another Anniversary to the crowed year of grief that repeats annually.
If you’re reading this and are pregnant, please reach out. If not to me , Familypreservation365@gmail.com
They also have an amazing blog on here to give resources, comfort, and those of us that live this life every moment.
You are enough. All your baby needs is her Mother. ❤️❤️❤️
Once upon a time , there lived a princess in a castle. I’ll stop right here to discuss Castles. When we are young or not living in trauma, didn’t we all dream of castles ? Yours might have been like this:
Then there is mine :
Pretty stark contrast or were we neighbors ? My castle had thick walls , moats with crocodiles and dungeons where i could self impose punishments for myself. I felt that by keeping myself there i had some control of my out of control life. If i shut myself away i both could never be hurt again or be happy. Win Win , i thought. I didnt deserve to be happy and i knew i’d never have to truly deal with my grief.
Recently , ive been trying to actuallt feel my pain. Ive wanted to touch it and take it apart. My mind is curious that way. What I found would change everything for me.
Pain and trauma is something ive been wearing since at least my teens if not far before. My mom had dropped me on my head at 3 weeks , causing a skull fracture that did not please my young resident father. It embarrassed him that his wife was so careless , afterall , appearances are everything to some. I seemed to have no obvious lasting effect from it. My parents divorced when i was 10. My world suddenly went from one of live in maids and fancy foreign cars to shuttling between two very different worlds. I tried to raise my younger brother and keep my mom alive during her choice to stop actively living.
Did i do it well ? Hell No! But , i did it. i learned to cook and kept the bills paid and dad only came around when he wanted to impress a girlfriend. A horrible place for a young girl , zero guidance from anyone , angry at the world. At tbe time , it probably appeared like a episode of 90210 at times and others Cops. i deperately craved for someone to love me and rescuse me but did it in the worst possible ways.
I acted out , tried illegal things , went on dangerous adventures and told myself i was the lucky one. No one would tell me what to do. i was right , because no adult cared enough about if i was breathing the next day. Growing up with zero rules or cosequnces felt bold and brave! I didnt see the disfunction until i was a Mom.
During that time, in what should have been my great learning years , it was taken from me by anyone with the right words or promises of forever. I so desperately wanted to be loved that i allowed horrible things to happen to myself. Strangely , it wasnt until i was 50 that i allowed myself to even mention that i had been both molested and raped by the time i was 14.
Id tell myself that it was normal until i couldnt keep my baby. Everything came to a full stop then and pain started to build to a level of PTSD. I had reached broken. Shattered. Destroyed. And , most importantly Stuck. I wouldnt budge from there , despite a failed brutal marriage that gave me her two siblings. I divorced within 18 months of my youngest child being born. I was alone with my two beautiful kids by 30.
For the next two decades , i was the princess of my tiny house and my new loving husband , and i faked everything. That took so much out of me and having my mom move in with us for her health readons drove me to the breaking point.
I thought about suicide constantly after i turned 40. Everyone knew it , yet they couldnt help me. Ive always known i would have to save myself. Yet , it wasnt until this year that i had ONE day i wanted to live for me. Its not even April 2018 and i dont want to die. Believe it when someone tells you things change in the blink of an eye. It was as if someone ( G-d?) snapped their fingers and i was Alive.
Two , maybe three, big things had changed. I had started trauma therapy , i had started taking magic oil at night for pain and sleep and i suppose , i finally believed my lost daughter that Never was going to happen. She neither cared about me nor was ever going to meet me. My fairytale ending would never ever happen. I was also the closest to commiting suicide i had ever been.
My plan was set , i had every detail worked our and i even told people of it. Incase you are new to adoptionland , these feelings arent rare. I believe that many people were stunned i had made it to 50. I know i was. My kids were grown , and i decided that they would be much better without me and my constant failures around them. My mom had gone to assisted living so she wasnt an issue anymore. And , my sweet husband would be far better off than having a broken wife that was both chronically ill and depresed. The decades of trauma had destroyed my immune system and we both knew id never live to old age. Yay!
So , what changed and why do i want to live? Hmmmmmmmm. I crawled into the storm of the pain and let myself soak in it. I simmered and braised in agony. And , i discovered that there were things i wanted to do and see. Just for me. Not because there wasnt someone else to do it or because i was being forced. I made a choice to be happy. Insert the laughter of the hundreds that wrote and said it was a Choice! Bastards! How could they be so cruel? Didnt they know how hard i had fought to stay alive? But , they were just ahead of me. I hadnt ever tried to be happy , i acted like what i thought happy was. Two absolute different things.
If you are reading this and barely holding on by your fingertips , please stay. Its fine to keep screaming. Its okay if you plan it and dont follow through. I even challenge you to tell someone how much it fucking hurts. Tell me if you need to. Please dont be silent and go off without anyone knowing Every Single Reason Why. Because while holding on , you just might find yourself, too.
Just like Glinda , the witch of the North said , ” You’ve had the power all along my dear “. I just didnt know it. ❤️❤️❤️