I am 9 years old when the guilt sets in.
When I learn that there’s no room for me to talk about my feelings.
When I learn that no one will listen.
When I learn that no one is there to hold space for me.
I am 14 years old when I stand in the bathroom, stare in the mirror and feel disconnected from the reflection staring back at me.
In an attempt to feel that I physically exist I turn cold water on, for pain relieving effect as I make scars on my hand.
I don’t know if I made the scars on my hand so that they would be seen.
A cry for help.
A plea to be seen.
I am 16 years old when I puncture holes in my ears, because bodily pain inflicted on myself doesn’t bother me and I want to ware earrings in that very moment.
I laugh at the faces of disbelief when I tell people I did this with no pain relief, not even an ice cube.
My ability to disconnect from myself emotionally, physically and mentally is alarming. But I don’t know this yet.
I am 33 years old, almost all out of the adoptee fog when I sit in the car, in a parking lot, outside a cafe, late at night, in complete darkness.
I know I have people I could call, who can hold space for me in this, who are fellow adoptees, who I don’t have to explain anything to.
But I cannot bring myself to do it.
I cannot bring myself to call anyone to say that I am sitting in my car, wondering what would happen if I turn the engine on, push my feet down on the gas pedal and go straight, as fast the car will run. Straight in to concrete wall of the building in front of me.
It is dark outside, around me.
It is dark inside me.
My thoughts scare me.
Writing this, is the first time I say anything about this.
I did not run my car into that wall.
I am still here.
And my heart aches for all of my fellow adoptees who are not.
I remember them today, every single one of them. It does not matter if I knew them, or even knew of them. They are my brothers and they are my sisters. In heart, soul and spirit.
I hold space for all my fellow adoptees who are suffering today.
We were born to exist.
We belong on this earth.
I love you
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One thought on “This Adoptee Life on Adoptee Remembrance Day – October 30th”
As an adoptee I am so grateful to hear others stories so I don’t feel so alone.
It never gets easier as time passes, but I’m sure there’s a reason I’mhere, helping others subdues the internal torment.