Tonight, it feels crap.
I don't mean just a little crap, I mean really crap.
Dad pass me my real adoption documents and original birth cert to me. It was because i needed them to register for my marriage over at ROMM. And the feeling i had being adopted start to hit me. I realise that how real this situation is. The situation where i am an adoptee.
Sometimes, being adopted feels lucky, being a 'chosen' child, a child with two sets of parents. It is a special thing.It is really a special thing.But, today, it makes me feel a little cursed.
As an adopted child, I have always had a sense of never really belonging anywhere. A feeling of other-worldliness. A sense of transience. I lack the security of being able to look at those around me and think 'he has my nose', 'I have her eyes', 'we all look alike'. For those well-rooted in their families, tied by a common bond, that is probably a difficult concept to understand. Tonight, being adopted has made me feel too different, more isolated.
As an adopted child, I have always had a sense of never really belonging anywhere. A feeling of other-worldliness. A sense of transience. I lack the security of being able to look at those around me and think 'he has my nose', 'I have her eyes', 'we all look alike'. For those well-rooted in their families, tied by a common bond, that is probably a difficult concept to understand. Tonight, being adopted has made me feel too different, more isolated.
About my parents, in particular my mum who, probably, feels most acutely that I am not 'her' child, about the envy I have for those families who share a closeness, a camaraderie.
I was adopted as an infant, during a time when adoption was still shrouded in secrecy.
My parents felt they were being "open" when they told me I was adopted, but no one helped me understand what adoption was. None of my friends were adopted, or maybe they just weren't talking about it. Adoption was a big secret but I thought about it often. I wondered if my best friend's mom might be my "real" mom. I wondered what was so wrong with me that my birth mom gave me away, and was she going to come back? I loved my family, so this idea caused great anxiety.
Growing up, I had internalized my parents’ matter-of-fact approach to the subject, and by the time I was in secondary school, being adopted hardly seemed worth mentioning. Even so, when a classmate and I came across a book called “Why Was I Adopted?” one day during free time in the library, I said to her happily, “I’m adopted!”
“No you’re not,” she replied. “You’re lying.”
“I really am,” I said, bursting into tears.
I started to get rebellious, especially when i notice how everyone's parent's showed their care and concern towards their child, compared to mine.
Soon, my face kept ending up sitting outside the general office. My form teacher couldn't take my rebellious anymore and decided to sent me for counselling. We used to have this teacher''s aide to help troubled students.
It took me sometime to open up, but soon, I told the teacher’s aide my feeling, my situation and within minutes I was already over it, but the aide apparently saw the chance for a teachable moment.
“Do you know why you were adopted?” she asked.
I told her it was because when I was a baby, my biological parent's might not have the needs to take care of me.
“Didn’t want to, or couldn’t?” she asked pointedly.
I was taken aback, then said I guessed it was because she couldn’t, though the distinction hardly seemed important.
Who cared if she could or couldn’t, didn’t want to or simply didn’t care? I was a bubbly, smart child who is being loved and brought up well by two of the most wonderful person on earth. I was delightful. As far as I was concerned, if this mysterious woman didn’t want me, it was her loss.
“I really am,” I said, bursting into tears.
I started to get rebellious, especially when i notice how everyone's parent's showed their care and concern towards their child, compared to mine.
Soon, my face kept ending up sitting outside the general office. My form teacher couldn't take my rebellious anymore and decided to sent me for counselling. We used to have this teacher''s aide to help troubled students.
It took me sometime to open up, but soon, I told the teacher’s aide my feeling, my situation and within minutes I was already over it, but the aide apparently saw the chance for a teachable moment.
“Do you know why you were adopted?” she asked.
I told her it was because when I was a baby, my biological parent's might not have the needs to take care of me.
“Didn’t want to, or couldn’t?” she asked pointedly.
I was taken aback, then said I guessed it was because she couldn’t, though the distinction hardly seemed important.
Who cared if she could or couldn’t, didn’t want to or simply didn’t care? I was a bubbly, smart child who is being loved and brought up well by two of the most wonderful person on earth. I was delightful. As far as I was concerned, if this mysterious woman didn’t want me, it was her loss.
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