I’ve
been thinking back through my life here recently and I don’t recall ever
knowing anyone else who was adopted. I’m
sure I must have met people who were, but I don’t recall ever actually knowing
anyone who was. I had a “cousin” who was
adopted, but I don’t know that I count that.
First off I put cousin in quotes because I don’t know that I consider
the adopted daughter of the brother of my adoptive mother to actually be a
legitimate relative. The courts might
have considered her such, but I don’t put a lot of stock in state fabricated
relations these days. Second, I can’t
say that I knew my “cousin” anyway.
Sure, I met her a couple of times, but I never knew her. The family I grew up in was remote from any
other members by hundreds to thousands of miles. If we saw my adoptive mother’s brother and
his family more often than once about every three years it was due to some
highly unusual event like a wedding or funeral.
The girl they adopted was about
four years old when they got her and by the time she was fifteen she was no
longer living with them. I don’t think
the adoption was actually legally dissolved but she went to live
elsewhere. Apparently she was quite the
handful and I suppose they eventually decided she wasn’t worth the effort. I don’t know the details; I wasn’t privy to
all that information, only being a couple of years older than she was. I do remember my mother being very upset
about the whole situation as it progressed over the years. Her primary focus was that this girl was
ungrateful to her brother. I suppose
that the poor girl was supposed to be grateful for having been abandoned by her
natural family at a young age or so mistreated by them that the state took her
away from them permanently; because hey, this nice guy and his family took her
in after that. Well, until she caused
too much trouble for them. The
underlying message was pretty clear though; adopted kids who misbehave enough
can get cut loose.
The
point of the last paragraph is this, not knowing anyone who is actually adopted
I could talk to about all of this I did the next best thing, I went to the
place we all know and love for the most accurate information known to man. No, not the library, this isn’t 1987; the
Internet-Al Gore’s greatest invention since Man-Bear-Pig. OK, perhaps not the most accurate information
known to man, but there are at least some funny cat videos and wildly one-sided
political memes. Speaking of political
memes I’m still either voting for pine straw or getting behind the plan to
change our political leader selection system to “Strange Women Lying in Ponds
Distributing Swords” because I cannot in good conscience vote for either of the
major parties’ candidates. Anyway, I’m
getting side tracked. My point is that I
found a forum full of adoptees venting about being adoptees and how they feel
about it, cope with it, and experiences they have had in relation to it.
This
forum has been pretty helpful for me. It
isn’t quite like knowing “real people” who are adopted, but it is nice to know
that basically none of my feelings or experiences are unique and there is a
group of people out there who understand.
No one expects me to drink the Kool aid.
I’m not expected to be grateful I was adopted, I’m not expected to
believe all adoptive parents are saints, I’m not expected to hide how I really
feel. I’ve also learned one very
important thing, something that I might have overlooked even as I was enjoying
its benefits at the same time.
What
is that one thing? My natural family
accepted me. There are so many people on
the forum who were rejected again, or found their natural family only to find
they were not the sorts of people they wanted to be around, or found them only
to find too much had been missed and they just didn’t fit with them, or found
out too much time had gone by and no one from their natural family was left
alive. I had none of those
experiences. When I met my mom I felt
like I had known her my whole life. When
I met my brothers and sisters I felt like I belonged with them, like there were
finally people who “got” me. I also felt
like they accepted me. One of my
sisters, not a woman who has a lot of free time on her hands, spent months
emailing and/or texting me literally every day before the first time I
visited. In doing so she made me feel
comfortable enough that I could actually make a trip alone halfway across the
country to meet all these people at once.
I felt like she was already on my side.
She also picked me up at the airport despite my flight arriving late on
a week night and she had to be up early the next morning for work. After the first time we were all together she
told me I fit in just like we had always been together. It was just what I needed to hear.
I
think that I have taken a negative tone as of late and there are certainly
reasons for that. However I read a post
on the forum yesterday that really got me thinking about why the separation
from my family and the feelings I have about it are so hard for me. The answer is that if I had wished for an
outcome before knowing anything about my natural family I couldn’t have wished
for anything or anyone better than what the reality is. No one is perfect, but they are perfect for
me, and that is what matters. So many
people go on this journey and don’t find what they wished for at the end. My journey resulted in more than I ever could
have wished for and rather than an end offers a new beginning. I’ll endeavor to remember how lucky I am when
I am feeling down. Perhaps I will be
successful, perhaps not, but I will at least remain lucky whether I manage to
remember it on any given day or not.
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