THE ART OF MAKING UP STORIES

I am adopted so the fear of being left is a constant worry for me. Every conversation, every argument every side eye. This seem outrageous to the non-adopted person but it is a common fear among a lot of adoptees I have talked to. In fact, it is comforting to know I was not alone in this and can feel understood. 

Let me try to explain. As an adopted person, I am someone who was relinquished at birth by a person I had never seen. This has affected me in ways that are hard to believe. I now realize that this will be with me forever. Childhood trauma is not healed overnight if ever. Managing it is my only hope. 

I grew up believing that my birthmother left me and did not want me. These thoughts were manifested in my head because in the 60’s adoptive parents were told what to say to the children they adopted, no more no less. Give the basic details and stick to your story. I was told the same tale repeatedly for years about how I came to live with my parents. The story did not include anything about my birthmother or where she was. It was all about how they “got” me. I was left to my own devices to fill in the details as I saw fit and I have lived with this for many years. It is ingrained in me; the truth and the fantasy. In some ways, the stories made me feel better but in others, there were still so many questions for me as a kid to not talk about and go unanswered. It was like torture not to know all of it, not to be able ask and get answers. 

I often would watch crowds and look for someone who looked like me, I sometimes thought that my birthmother would come knock on our door and get me when she got her life together. Every time I made a connection with someone I felt they must be a part of my birth family somehow, because why else would I connect with someone so deeply? I was sure I already knew who my birthmother was and she just had not shown herself to me yet. I had an art teacher in high school that heard me, really listened to me; I wished she were my birthmother. We could talk about me being adopted and I felt like I could say all the words and she would not get mad or judge me, a feeling I had not known before.

I knew as a kid, that my story was different. In fact, I do not remember any other kids talking about being adopted in school. None of us has the same story, but mine, I felt was very different than most of the world. In fact, I am missing about 8 days; many are missing years that they spent in foster care or other places. I do not have the story “we went to the hospital and then….. etc.”. When you have the feeling that you are not getting the whole story, even the no-so-curious kid will go huh? Wait a minute this is not adding up.  

I knew that I was not able to ask my parents any more than they were giving me, it was unspoken law in our house. I still cannot. I can handle that. It doesn’t seem fair and some would say I am protecting my parents. They are in their 80’s, so for them it is still too much. The time has passed for questions and I believe they have told all that they know anyway. It would only upset them and they would blame themselves at this stage of the game.

There are words and there are actions that trigger the fear someone is going to leave me. The action of not participating in an argument and physically leaving the room or the house would make me go into panic. My ex-husband would do this and actually say “conversation over” and leave. I remember this gave me such a bad feeling, as if my world was collapsing. My heart would beat fast, I would think irrationally, my stomach would roll and I would start the planning. This continued for about 3 years and plotted a way to leave. I had bought into the “get married and happily ever after” narrative, only I had picked the wrong guy for that. I saved some money, got full time at my job and rented a house for my son and I. It took everything I had to leave that situation and stand on my own. However, the constant feeling of being left was too much to bear and he had already left me anyway emotionally. I was just the one physically leaving.  

I think I feel the leaving more deeply than most. When friends do not want to be friends anymore, it is a big question in my mind. What did I do wrong? How did I cause this to happen? How can I fix it? 

I have a cousin that was as close to me as a sister growing up, she’s about 7 years older than me. She has cut ties with the family several years ago and it’s been hard. I think about her all the time and how I should reach out to her. But I have and she not interested. I have to resolve to myself that it’s her and not me. I have done all I can. It’s the unanswered question of what did me or my parents do wrong. But it’s her not me. It has taken me a long time to get to the point I can say that, now I have to believe it.

My expectation in my life was for people to disappear and not say a word about why. This may or may not have happened early on in my life, but the point is, I was always waiting for it to happen. Searching for words or actions that would signal to me that the end was near so I could figure out how to leave first and start planning the rest of my life without them. Some of my relationships had a lot of stops and starts because of this. Some were ones I caused, (you know the self-fulfilled prophecy), and some were caused by the other person. I could never fully let go of the person after the breakup, but I could not fully be present in the relationship. I was never able to give 100% of me to any relationship. I am still trying to figure out how to do that and my current 20-year relationship with my wife is the closest I have come to offering my whole self. 

It is a lot of work for me to be present. To be in the room. That is probably much of the reason that I love spending time with our grandkids. Kids have a way of making things real and present. They don’t need me to be anything other than a grandma; they don’t care about the rest of the stuff as long as they feel safe. I also tell them that I am here for them, whatever they need and whatever they want to talk about.  No secrets, no shame.

Gayle gave me away, left the hospital without me and continued with her life. I am slowly realizing that she is not everyone.  

I have written a lot lately about my birthmother. I am not sure why exactly except that she is gone, it’s coming up on that anniversary and there are no more chances for a meeting. Departures without closure always get me. Always!

Today I was inspired by Anne Heffron’s blog, particularly the line “I love you and will never leave” she is right we do need to hear this. Even though your favorite adoptee might seem resistant, this is what most are needing. They want to know you are different from the tapes being played in their head and you will stay till the end, where ever that end might be.       

Oh and the “L” word, I am still working on that too. Hard for me to hear and hard for me to say. 

Thank you for taking time to read.