I already post so much daily but I had something I needed to share.
I am adopted. Many things around that helped me to become who I am today. I know there ae many of you out there who have contemplated adopting and I would not want to discourage that by any means. I just want to talk about my story. I know there are many out there like me, who have a story different from the ones you hear. The television, books, and news make adoption out to be the best thing sometimes, and while that is the case for many, it is not for others.
I am not a “bash adoption person”, on the contrary…
If you can love someone completely, without bias or harm, then do it! Lots of children, and others need to be adopted. They need love, nurturing, caring and a stable home environment. If though you are seeking adoption for any other self satisfying urges, desires or fulfillment, or to be a “savior” to someone then you might want to think about it over again. No one wants someone to adopt them out of pity or because you feel like being a good Samaritan. They want actual caring, selfless people. Humans are and must not be an “agenda” for anyone seeking monetary praise. You are not here to necessarily “save” another individual. You might find you are the one who they save. Just saying.
I was adopted as an infant. I did not have my world turned upside down by being ripped out of the arms of my biological parents. I did not have a life where I was taken from the only family I had and given away to some orphanage. I was not found on a door step.
I was adopted by a family member. I was adopted in a court of law. I was too young to decide where I wanted to go and frankly I did not have a difficult time being placed in my relatives home. I was a baby! Some other people may not have had the same experiences as I but that is okay.
My biological father died before my adoption. He was fatally shot. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My biological mother was alone for the first time with two kids. She did not fair well with all that, let’s just say. She was not able to care for me and my sister. She had to leave me with my grandfather, and then I was adopted by my Aunt.
I never really understood the power of that dark period for my biological mother back then. I figured liked most she was taking the easy route. I figured she was being a sorry mother. I never fully understood how she must have felt back then. Now, I can somewhat see what she must of felt. Years I hated her, yet hate seems like a too strong of word for how I felt about her. I never saw her till I became an adult, and then it was like a lightbulb came on and I felt something I never knew I could, about her. She made me sad, she made me feel pity for her. I realized the first time I saw her, that she was actually a HUMAN…yeah, seems she was not one until I actually saw her.
I so hoped that first time, I would get all my answers answered, but I did not. wanted to hug her and hear about how much she missed me, but I did not hear that. I also thought we would get together and go to her house and she would show me her life and what all she did, but that never ever happened. I was standing before my own biological mother and felt more of a stranger than I did her own flesh and blood. I felt so out-of-place and awkward. Here, I had waited 23 years to see her, to talk to her, to hug her, to know her… They say parting is such sweet sorrow, but that day felt like terrible sorrow. I was happy to finally see her, and I was delighted to hear her voice, smell her perfume, and touch her skin. Sadly, I was wanting this instant connection, this simultaneous combustion. It was not there.
I was more at home in a hotel lobby than I felt with her. That was okay because I was determined for us to change all that.
Some times things do not go as we plan…sometimes they never will. We should expect the least from someone and we will never be disappointed.
I was finally face to face with this ICONIC figure in my life. Even though she was not an active participant in my life, that did not matter, she was. I found myself looking her up and down and studying her talk, studying her walk, and mannerisms. I was soaking all that up like a “sponge in water”.
Her heart, she displayed like a billboard sign. There was nothing left, at least not much anymore. Even though she discarded a lot of her past baggage somewhere alongside the never-ending road, she still had some that managed to show up, mixed in a lot of her other emotions.
Whenever she wanted to rest, she would sit a spell and contemplate life. Thoughts that ran through her mind would create a crevis here and there, that she would ultimately fill with more baggage. Her past and it’s harshness created the many seasons of change she would experience through out her journeys on that never-ending road.
If she was lucky enough, there would be people to engage with and create with her a relationship of trust and comfort. Many times though there was people who took more than they ever left her with, in regards of trust and comfort. She always felt like she was never good enough or strong enough, yet each time she received damage of some sort, she stood back up as if to carry on.
Her heart was a crutch, yet it kept her steadily moving down the never-ending road. Sometimes painful more than steady but it held her up, when it was needed. Now it was that she had very little left of that heart. Not really of her own choosing but rather her lot in life and one she had to handle on her own.
She often thought to herself, “If my heart had wings, It could fly out of danger wherever it was”, yet that was a long stretch to say the least. She should know not to imagine far out things because those things never come to pass. At least not for her. It was in the fragments of things left behind, and yet to pass that she stretched her reach for things of hope. “If I could piece together all those fragments, then one day I might be whole again”, she would always say.