Full Circle

Full Circle

Swirling and swirling

Life lives on like a dream

Your presence so near

And yet I still scream

Within is a child

Who’s wound will not heal

She mourns for a Mother

She works to conceal

A woman so dear

She is in all her veins

Screaming out orders

It is insane

Why I child must do

Such things in the first place

And why they must endure

The cut of a knife

From their own Mother.

Playing the quiet game kept me safe

Growing up as an adoptee for me, meant playing the quiet game. And now that I have stopped playing the quiet game, and I observe the reactions of those closest to me. I see why. I see that what I have to say is especially upsetting to those I thought got me, but they really got who they thought I was. And now that I have let the cat out of the bag? People are pissed, upset, dismayed, angry, want me to shut up, and wish I would go back to playing the silent game again. Those around me have bought the lie I lived, and they have a hard time accepting that I have felt like this forever, but just did not tell them for fear. I feared a rejection again, I feared not getting my needs met, I feared being alone. These are the fears I have identified so far. And God has not given me this spirit of fear, who did?

Well, right now, I see, this world gave it to me the day I was given away like a puppy to a woman my Mother had not even met. And as I lay in a crib, in a house, where my Mothers voice was not, anywhere to be heard, or smelled, I panicked, without words to even tell the one person who showed up to care. And I grew up feeling like a captive to that woman. I grew up feeling like a reject on misfit island.

Sure I had all the trimmings. I had a Daddy, a Mommy, and a nice house, Nana and Papa, and a nice neighborhood, dresses, and food? Why could I not forget the woman who made me? Why was the questions I asked myself when my Adopted Mom would say things she did not realize hurt the hell out of me. I would just watch other families and wonder? Why do some woman keep their kids? Some say they are selfish. And some say it is selfless. There are many who think they know what is best? But all I know is how I feel, and felt about it all. And how confused I grew up trying to heal a hit to my psyche that no one could see.

I hid inside and studied and tried to do the best my body and confused mind could let me. I had speech problems, and by the way my kids treat me, I am very messed up. I could not see it, because my adopted Mom protected me from it. She told me many things to help me feel better about being me, and she instructed me on how to speak, and I didi the best I could, but would invariably say something someone did not like and so it went.

I stuck out. I did not look like my Adopted Mom, so that made it really clear. And we played the roles we were given as a new family. But that model is a very shaky place without truth. I do think it would have been better for my developing brain to receive truth instead of lies or omissions of truth, which is a lie as well. I have had a time trying to really accept what is, and weeding through what they said it was. It has taken me years, like 50 to wake up from this dream that was a bit of a nightmare when one must live the lies told them from strangers.

Adopted parents do not want to think of themselves as strangers. I get it, but you are. You are a stranger body to the child you raise. And your spirits connect, but that is not the only part of us. WE are mind body and spirit. And all parts need truth to be able to stand what life sends our way. I did pretty good with the truth my Adopted Mom wanted me to live. But there came a day when I could not live like that any longer. My internal life expanded beyond her understanding. And so my real truth, the one I held deep down, made its way out of my mouth. And for me, I was relieved. I was not happy with my loved ones reactions, no. Like a gay person standing there trying to explain why I felt like this, was like this, was very naked and ugly to experience. Especially from folks who say they love me and want me happy?

My bio Mom took it the worst. She was totally on her own train when my train wrecked her ride. I spoke the truth she knew deep down, because we share this wound. And unlike me who has been trying to  understand, and to change the lines we read, she did not want to know, how her actions had affected me. She simply did not care. And all I did was show her what she had chosen to forget. I find it really interesting my own child who was a surprise moved up to be with her? It is very interesting and confusing to watch my life fall apart and for my own children to turn away from me.

I was fucked up for sure, if my own kids could not look at me. And I needed to look at that truth, so I could learn and adjust. I need to know why I acted like I did and do.  I do see that I am very psychically disconnected from my gene pool and that when I go to spend time with my  Bio Mom, I do feel better. My body feel better being in her presence for sure. And as any child, I will take any attention I can, if I can not have love.

Playing the quiet game has shown me that I need lots of practice speaking in my own way and not reading or saying things my Mother taught me to stay safe. And it is an adjustment for sure. To stand on my own and not hold onto someone I thought would understand? How could they understand? I played quiet like told, so I pushed it so far down, stuffing, stuffing, stuffing, until there was no more room. And like the closet door, of my pandoras box full of things that were painful and traumatic, it just busted open and poured out, and I could not, and would not stop it.

So now I work to help folks who wish to be truthful and want to be who they are inside and want to be who they are inside and want folks to love past it. I guess I felt like an autistic person, trapped inside a body from another, trained by an indian, just trying to find the words to let me out. Well, change is messy. And so it is. But change must be, for us to learn and grow.

My prayer is that my words could validate your pain. That is is real. And that I your sister and brother here on this planet cares. I do care. I do not want another child to feel like I did. I pray we all can have the courage to speak the truths we hold inside for lack of anyone who can see or wants to see.

You matter. You are here for a reason. Lets make it better. Lets do what we need to do to expose this, so others can avoid it.

That is my prayer.