A link worth a look

The writing below is excellent,  better than anything I could hope to turn out.  It is, of course, adoption related.

Worth a look

Of 42 and Fish...

I got some good news today; my youngest brother and his girlfriend are engaged.  The wedding is in September of next year.  So, I already have an excuse to plan a trip out there then, not that I really need an excuse.  With this news comes the usual adoptee feeling of “great, another happy event/piece of news to make me sad.”  I don’t want to give the impression that I am not happy for my brother, I am very happy for him.  I am already looking forward to going to the wedding and celebrating with my people.  This will likely be an opportunity to meet some extended family I have only heard about and of course it will mean having everyone together.  Sounds great doesn’t it?  I am sure it will be.

So, why is there a “but?”  Well, there isn’t, however there is an “and.”  The “and” is what clubbed me over the head today; it is the same one that does it to me most of the time.  The “and” covers all the similar events I missed in the past.  I missed the engagements and weddings of both of my sisters (or all three of my sisters if one chooses to count the one I haven’t met on my biological father’s side- I can’t decide if I count her or not, she clearly doesn’t count me).  It also covers the awkwardness I always seem to feel because I don’t know people I should know.  I don’t mean just extended family (though of course they are part of it), but also the family I should have been with and should know much better than I do. 

I leave in a couple of days to spend Thanksgiving with them.  This is the first “major holiday” I will be spending with them.  I expect it will be one of many to come.  I hope that means it will eventually just be a happy time.  I don’t want to jinx it, but this is something that has been on my mind as the day approaches so perhaps writing about it will excise it to one extent of another.  I missed 42 of these (does it mean something that it is 42?  I don’t know where my towel is right at the moment after all).  I am thankful I won’t be missing 43 and also sad (there is that and again) that I missed the 42.  Of course that also translates to 42 Christmases (and it will be 43 this year, I won’t be there for Christmas), and 43 Easters, and countless birthdays. 

So happy events that make me sad.  It seems to be the theme of the night, again.  So long and thanks for all the fish, more to come; my sincerest apologies to Douglas Adams. 

Creed - With Arms Wide Open

Being "Chosen"

There is a great myth propagated by the adoption industry and supported by many adoptive parents that adoptees are somehow “special” because they are “chosen”.  I found myself wondering today if I might feel less bad about my experience as an adoptee if I actually had been chosen as opposed to being a single offering; take him or leave him.  Obviously that isn’t something I can find an answer to, but it is an interesting question.

There is a book called “The Chosen Baby” that is about adoption and is aimed at adopted children.  It was (and perhaps still is) recommend as a way to tell ones’ adopted child he or she is adopted.  I suppose it is possible that at some point in adoption’s past there we so many babies available for adoption that adopting parents had a choice of babies.  That was not the case when I was adopted in 1973 and it certainly isn’t the case now (I am speaking of infant adoptions, for older children there is likely some ability to choose).  The only choice my adoptive parents had was whether or not to say yes when I was offered.  Saying no was technically an option but they likely assumed (and would have been correct) that couples who turn down babies don’t get offered babies again.  They did not get to go to a home and pick out the “best” infant from a multitude; they were offered me and accepted.   They made no choice past “yes” or “no”.

Infants are given up for a myriad of justifications.  They all basically boil down to one reason though, we (the adoptees) were not as important to someone who would have been instrumental in keeping us with our natural families as some other concern.  In my case the people who should have had my best interests at heart but didn’t were my father and grandmother.  Other things were more important to them than I was.  They didn’t “love me so much they gave me away” (a justification we often hear from the adoption industry), instead they didn’t love me enough (or perhaps at all) to keep me.

So, was I or are any of us “chosen”?  No, that is simply a cover word used to deny reality.  The reality is that in order to be available for adoption the people who were supposed to care for us decided something else was more important.  The only choice made in relation to me was the choice to make “not being embarrassed” and “not being tied down” more important than me.  That is, unfortunately, the reality of adoption and adoptees live with it every day.  In many of us it creates lifelong feelings that we are not good enough or not worthy.  That is the reality behind being “chosen”.

The Verve Pipe - The Freshmen

Purchase or Person?

There have been a couple of interviews posted to AdopteesOn since mine.  I’ve listened to all the interviews there and all have had an impact on me in one way or another.  I’ve also heard a little bit of my story in each of them.  The more recent of them, as of this writing, was the second male interviewed, Davis.  His interview was very interesting and parts of it sounded very familiar.  However, he also recorded a reading of something he wrote earlier entitled “Am I blood or am I Water”.  I’m linking it here because I found it to be very powerful.  It also sounded very familiar.

It occurred to me after listening to Davis’ interview and reading that I have always felt like property rather than family when it came to my adoptive “family”.  Something was always wrong there.  It was more than just having a different sense of humor, a different way of looking at things, and not having physical features in common with them.  I never felt like a real member of the family, or any family.  It has taken me a long time to even start to figure some of this out and I have to provide special thanks to Davis and Haley Radke for helping bring it to my attention.

I’ve written before that I had a hard time, and still have a hard time, conceptualizing my birth.  I know logically I must have been born like everyone else.  My mom has told me the story, the story I didn’t have for 42 years, so I know it happened.  Even so, I spent the vast majority of my life feeling like I had just popped into existence at 3 ½ months.  Knowing how it began hasn’t helped that feeling to go away and I think that is part of the reason I always felt like property.  My adoptive mother was (and still is unfortunately) fond of saying that I “Cost $15”.  Given my inability to believe in my birth and constantly being told I was purchased by my adoptive mother I developed this feeling that I wasn’t a person but a purchase.  Purchases, unlike people, get returned or discarded if they don’t work out.  I never felt like I worked out in my adoptive “family”.  I also never felt like I had a family.  Go figure.

Davis can be found here:

Am I Blood or am I Water

Little Things

I was watching a movie recently where a guy around my age was taking his son, about the age of my twin sons, to see his newborn sister.  He said something to the effect of "Come on bud; let’s go meet your sister".  I started tearing up when he said it.  My two sisters were 34 and 31 when I met them.  I wasn't there to meet them when they were born thanks to adoption.  I'm nearly nine years older than the older of my two sisters; I would have clear memories of both of them being born if I had been around.

Something is always creeping up on me like this.  It is usually in the form of something pretty innocuous like the movie I was watching recently.  There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what sets me off and what doesn’t.  Likely that means it is more dependent on my mood than on the specific things that get me going.

I was out visiting my family again last weekend.  As usual it was a great visit.  As usual, leaving was very hard.  My mom found a picture recently of her with my biological father and she gave it to me.  I don’t suppose a lot of adoptees get to see pictures of their natural parents together and I am glad I was able to see it.  So far as she knows it is the only such picture in existence.  I was struck by how much she looked then like my oldest sister does now.  I suppose such things are not surprising to most people, but most people don’t spend the lion’s share of their lives without any contact with biological relations.  I wonder how long it will be before I start taking these similarities for granted?

I spent most of Friday with my oldest sister.  I felt like we had a great time and I think she did as well.  It was nice getting to know her a little better.  I still have no idea how to be anyone’s brother but perhaps I am starting to learn a little bit.  We celebrated her birthday, her son’s birthday, and our other sister’s birthday on Saturday night.  So, I didn’t miss those celebrations like I did the last set.  I was very happy to be there for them.  I spent most of Sunday afternoon playing outside with a niece and nephew and think I managed to bond with them a little bit more in the process.  As much as I enjoy my time with all of them I still have no idea how to act most of the time.  Awkwardness, the story of my life…

My Adoptees On Interview

The little black monster

My youngest sister turned 32 on Saturday.  Much like the last set of birthdays this marked the 32nd time I've missed it.  I've been trying not to dwell on all I have missed, and continue to miss, since there is nothing to be done about the past. It works for a while, then hits me out of nowhere.  I suppose that is an improvement of sorts but it doesn't feel that way when it hits me unexpectedly.

On Saturday night we went to my wife's mother's house for dinner and such.  I was having a pretty good day for me, especially considering it was my sister's birthday.  Most of my wife's siblings were there so I got to see a little bit of what might have been for me.  It got me wondering if I will ever have that sort of relationship with my siblings.  They have been nothing but accepting of me and the things we have in common are almost spooky.  However, we lack that shared experience my wife and her siblings have.  As much as people like to say it there is no making up for lost time, only making the best of the time one has.

So, the little black monster that rears its head all too often decided to hit me again just as we were leaving.   My wife noticed my mood had shifted suddenly and asked me what was wrong.  My response was "the same thing that is always wrong".  She said "But you were fine inside".  Yes, I was and now I'm not.   It happens without warning.

Adoption, the gift that keeps on giving...

Pearl Jam - Just Breathe

The right idea, the video is a bit strange but the idea is right on...

Special Occasions

I haven’t updated in a while.  That is primarily because nothing has really changed but also because I just haven’t wanted to think about it anymore than I have been already. I’m going to counseling every week.  It seems to be helping at least a little bit but it will be a long road.  There are days, and this last weekend was full of them, that I feel like I’m never going to feel better about this.  There are so many experiences lost and so much time I can never get back.  One of the many ugly truths about adoption is for an adopted person happy events are almost always sad also.  When a happy event makes me sad it brings with it another feeling of isolation from everyone else. 

This past weekend my family celebrated the birthdays of one of my brothers and one of my nieces.  I wasn’t there.  I sent cards, gifts, and birthday wishes and I know they were appreciated.  What I really wanted was to be part of it.  I know it isn’t uncommon for people to miss a special occasion with family, especially when they are adults and have responsibilities.  It is uncommon however; no it is unnatural to miss every special occasion.  My brother tuned 28 last week, and it marked the 28^th time I’ve missed his birthday.  My niece turns nine this coming Saturday but the celebration was combined with my brother’s; necessary with all the family members and birthdays.  This coming Saturday will mark the 9^th time I’ve missed her birthday.  I don’t know what to do with that.  Family was really never important to me, outside my wife and children, until I had a real extended family of my own.  Now it, and the loss surrounding it, is the focus of my life.

I’m taking the younger boys out there for Thanksgiving.  This will be the first major holiday I spend with my family and I’m more than a little concerned about the impact it will have on me.  Will it simply be happy?  Will it be happy and sad at the same time?  Will the weight of all the missed Thanksgivings of the past try and crush me?  I don’t know. 

I’ve been distant from my wife and children for several months now.  I’m sad a lot and short tempered with all of them and I hate that I am being that way.  I can’t seem to stop it though.  I don’t ever want them to feel like they are not important to me but I fear I have been doing just that.  I suppose I could be called lucky having made it as far in life as I have never having felt anything like this before.  The problem with that, of course, is I have no experience dealing with it.  As such I end up taking it out on the people closest to me, and the least deserving of getting that treatment from me. 

I was hoping going back to work today would at least take my mind away from everything for a while.  I t didn’t work today, though often it does.  That made for a difficult day, trying to hold it together and get work done isn’t easy.  At least I have a meeting with the counselor tomorrow after work, I need it.

How I hate being adopted…

Yep...

What about your "real parents"?

I heard from a friend out of the blue last night.  I worked with him for a few years about ten years ago.  We were pretty close when we worked together but then I moved away from the area and as often happens with me, we lost touch.  We didn’t lose touch completely, but contact dropped off significantly and continued to decrease as time went by. I think I last talked to him, outside the occasional Facebook comment (because of course we are Facebook friends) about three years ago.   

I keep my postings on Facebook about my reunion with my natural family to a minimum.  My adoptive mother is also a “friend” on Facebook.  I have her blocked from seeing my posts unless I go in and change the settings for something specific I want her to see, but I don’t entirely trust it.  She claims to be supportive of the reunion but her actions don’t really back that up.  So, while I don’t have a problem with family commenting on my posts or commenting on theirs I don’t actually talk about adoption or related issues.  Anyway, my friend didn’t see my single post about the reunion its self so he didn’t know anything about it.

So, after we caught up for a little while I told him about my “big news”.  Really, this is the only “big news” I have had since my twins were born and I do like to talk about it.  Well, I like to talk about it on good days anyway.  As much as I like to talk about it I am generally very cautious about whom I talk about it with.  I figured my friend wouldn’t be a problem.  I suppose calling him a problem, even given his reaction, isn’t really fair to him, it is more of a commentary on how ingrained adoption propaganda is in our society.  When I got done with the short version of events the first thing he asked me is how my adoptive parents felt about it.  What I have gotten from people in the past, even if they eventually asked that question (and many did not) was some statements about how cool of a story it is or how happy they are for me.  This guy and I were close when we worked together, we actually did stuff together outside work and we shared a lot about ourselves with each other.  He has heard some of the stories of the things my adoptive parents, and especially my mother, did when I was growing up and since.  He knows, or at least knew, that I didn’t have a good relationship with them.  I remembered the relationships he had with his family so I expected him to remember mine, but perhaps I expected too much.

My friend has no connection to adoption in his life; he isn’t adopted, he doesn’t have any close friends that are adopted (other than me, not sure if I still count as close anymore, but I was), doesn’t have any close friends or family that are adoptive parents, etc.  All he has is the generally accepted narrative on adoption we have in our society.  If he had just made the one comment I wouldn’t be making this post.  However the more we talked about it the more comments he made.  He kept asking how my adoptive parents felt about it, if they were OK with it, and even said he felt sorry for them since they raised me and then all of a sudden this happened years later.  He was mildly supportive of me but I could tell his primary concern was for the feelings of my adoptive parents. 

I know my friend well enough to know he was purposefully trying to hurt my feelings or downplay the significance of my reunion.  I tried to explain it to him but I could tell it just wasn’t getting through.  He is apparently one of the many people that have been convinced by the adoption industry propaganda that adoption and adoptive parents are always good and anything that has the potential to disrupt them is bad.  I probably won’t hear from him again, outside of Facebook comments, for another three years so I didn’t pound my head into a brick wall for too long trying to change his mind.  However it really made me realize more than ever what sort of mentality those of us that want to change how adoption is handled are up against.  My friend is a smart guy but on this issue he didn’t even hear what I was saying.  What he believes was so ingrained in his mind that I might as well have been talking to myself. 

It is this sort of thinking that is going to keep the system the same and going to mean that more and more kids are going to have to go through some version of what I did.  I couldn’t be happier to be back with my natural family but I shouldn’t have been separated from them at all.  The emotional fallout from the separation is something that I have been living with (unwittingly) for years and have only recently started to deal with.  The pain and loss associated with that separation and the time and money required to come to terms with it is not something I would wish on anyone.  It needs to change.