Being your Mother and Fathers child, yet no one seeing them inside of you.

Adoption is this weird state of being. You grow up very detached from yourself. There are so many overlays to who you are. The you you are always is overplayed with The must be you, new name you overlay, The Who everyone thinks you are you. It’s very complicated.

Adoption is very complicated. Adoption is an overlay. I’m still the child of my parents. But I’m undercover. Seen. But not seen. Visible. But invisible. To any naked eye, I am just the daughter of the parents that adopted me. That’s where it gets weird. Because I didn’t really act like my adopted parents. Which made me stick out like my parents sore thumb.

Adoption is my witness protection program. Not sure what I witnessed? But I had to be sent away, given a new identity, life, parents, everything.

And I’m not sure why we play this game with children’s lives? It’s not really a fun game when all you’d really like is to go home. Where ever that is. It’s like being indoctrinated into a cult. When you do make it home? Everyone calls you strange. No duh? I’ve lived the strangest life being called adopted.

It’s a game where the child losses it all so the parents can win. Win what I ask? After 30 years? I found home? So. At that point everyone lost as I see it. Mama lost her life without me. Mama jean lost her life with only me.

And now? Well, my parents inside me seem to be screaming to be seen. So strange.

Talking about Mama to Mama Jean makes her cringe. Talking about my life experiences here makes my own Mama cringe. So much cringing. All I want is to let my whole self out.

But. Misfit toys. Seem to have to stay on an island or some such nonsense with an abominable snowman? Even stranger.

  • How does an adoptee break herself out of such a crystalline ball such as this? After so long?
  • Even my children struggle with me voicing my feelings and thoughts from living this life. Everyone wants me back in my bubble and to get back to being silent. Invisible. Visible.
  • But shhhhh. Don’t talk about them. Those knuckle heads that made you. There are sides and layers to the overlays and bubbles.
  • It is much like being the girl in a bubble. Everyone seems to be saying, ” you must stay in here for your own protection” don’t burst your own bubble. What will Adoption think? Don’t speak up!! You are embarrassing us. Suck it up.
  • Your lucky to be alive. Really? Is that how it is? Because I’ve lived the adopted life. 30 years I lived it without knowing my heritage, ancelstrage, siblings that don’t seem to need me? Not sure? They could have wanted me. I wanted them. But nooooo. I’m to strange and make the whole family now appear strange? Shame on me. (Sarcasm) more like shame on Adoption.
  • How dumb.
  • psychecafe

    I am an Adapted, artist, Mother, a soul, a human, singer, writer, activist, minister and deprogrammer and reprogrammer of minds. And I am here because we need to change how you see it, a lot of things that is. For us Adoptees who have lived in the dark. We were cut off from our families. And that is sad people.

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