One would think it wouldn’t be difficult for me to write the MeMe Mia tagged me with. After all, most of what I share on this blog is all about what “I am,” or, at the very least, what I am trying to become. But writing this is difficult. My writings aren’t driven by self-importance, but are the result of trying to live an emotionally transparent life; an authentic life. I am trying to lasso my personal truth because it got away from me a very long time ago, under the dictates of the business of adoption.
Sadly, it didn’t occur to me until nearly my thirtieth birthday that I’d been absent from my own life; that I described the bulk of my experiences in terms of how they were prescribed by others – by my adoptive mother, my birthmother and the “adoption professionals.” They all had a lot riding on how I felt. My birthmother needed to assuage guilt. The adoption professionals needed to keep their jobs. And my adoptive mother? Sometimes, there just isn’t enough room in one sentence to cover what needs to be said. But, the easiest explanation is that she needed to feed her narcissism and telling me how to feel, rather than asking how I felt, was the quickest means to that end.
It’s taken nearly ten years to access my feelings, gather them up, explore them and claim them as my own. It’s been a long, painful journey – one which will likely never find its ending. My biggest fear is straying off course and leaving those feelings behind again. Recording them here – throwing them out into the Universe – helps assure that I don’t.
I am many things because of my experience . . .
I am . . .
. . . Estranged from my both my families, because I spoke my truth.
. . . Often afraid of what they will do in reaction.
. . . Worried about what it will be like to grow old without a family.
As I continue to gather my truth . . .
I am . . .
. . . Sometimes frightened what I will find.
. . . Surprised by the depth of my anger in reaction to what I discover.
. . . Proud of what I’ve become in spite of it all.
. . . Sad for the child inside me who wasn’t well cared for.
. . . Feeling more like an orphan than ever before.
. . . More and more committed to staying the course.
. . . Less and less concerned about the consequences.
I am learning so much . . .
I am . . .
. . . Learning forgiveness is overrated.
. . . Learning forgetting is impossible.
. . . Learning that understanding the whys and how’s of what my parents did, then doing my best not to repeat them in my own life, is the better path towards healing.
. . . Learning there is nothing wrong with anger. It is an energy that can be harnessed to make positive change.
. . . Learning the truth isn’t free; it comes at a cost, but in exchange, you get authenticity.
And, because of all these things . . .
I am . . .
. . . Determined.
