I’ve been trying to find a job, a purpose, my place in this world. And I am a quirky girl, a nerd, a rebel, a scientist, a Mom, a daughter, an adoptee. And we are few in number who openly embrace ourselves whole heartedly, and non-apologeticly. So, it can be ruff to say the least. But should I stop being myself? NO, and for a long time, I hid myself. I hid the real me from site, she peered from behind a side swept bang. Waiting for it to be safe to come out.
Growing up as an Adopted Child is a strange and complicated process of unfolding into yourself. Because you have no Genetic Mirror to gaze into, you are forced to gaze within. Even though originally stated that we have no memory of our time in utero, I am here to say different. I have memories that I feel, and sense things. I remember my Mothers heart beat, and her voice from within. Don’t tell me I was there in unintelligibleness? Like a blob? No, I was taking it all in, the new world out there.
When I was taken home by another, is when the pain came. Now, what is with in is a ball of pain. Whenever the separation was first perceived is when the ball of pain became your friend. We don’t understand our uncomfortable friend. Not understanding why we can not be as elated as every says we should be. Not knowing that our Mothers absence has in-fact been felt in such a way as to rock out whole foundation, and caused us to not trust.
Without proper counseling on a subject that at the time of my Adoption was nothing. So as a child abandoned by my Genetic pool, free falling through life with not attachments. Feeling detached and unable to ground oneself. It is a very taxing experience. Our nervous system stressed because of the mental concentration need to observe your New parents so that you can assimilate what they are displaying to you. It is especially hard when there mannerisms are diabolically opposed to your own.
More later. xox