There has never been a time within my family unit of Mother, Father, Brother, and me...that I felt like I belonged there.
For as long as I can remember there has always been some barrier. Some invisible boundary. Something not quite right. A coldness between people. A lack of depth of emotion. An inability to really get into the grooves of what intertwines relationships between family members. There is an unexplainable loneliness in this. In a child, having no bond to anyone distorts your intended growth, and that distortion stays with you through the long years to come.
I felt that emptiness as a very young child but did not find out that I was adopted until I was maybe 6 or 7.
I kind of understood what the words meant, but the feeling of being completely lost, out in some outer realm from everyone in the world. I heard the words, "I love you," but it never seated itself into that deep part of me that actually believed anyone. I cannot remember a time in which I was treated to be as in equal standing with my non biological adopted brother.
At every turn in the eyes of our adopted mother, his glory was just too bright for her to see anyone else. I’ve wondered why, my entire life what I did so wrong, so early to have been so unlovable to her...and my adopted dad? He cowered to her. He still does. I was not allowed to have him, because he belonged to her.
There were many events in my brother’s life, that went on eventless in mine. The first big one was that they loved him so incredibly as parents that they gave him a biblical name. And would make a big deal over it, teaching him to find his name in the bible… God's book.
Another was that they made sure that he was also baptized as a young boy, securing him to Heaven. As I, also young, and have now become much older still cannot understand what was wrong with me, that they didn’t believe I should be loved and secured to God. No biblical name for me. No baptism. No securing me to Heaven. No teaching me about Jesus, and Salvation. If the only parents I had deemed me unworthy. Then certainly I must be.
The years went by and by the time I reached 11, the lack of equality between siblings, the lack of interest in my being, and the ever-present reality of being the unwanted child in the unit, continued. I became more despondent and the beginning of suicidal tendencies emerged.
Back then no one knew too much about the adoption dynamic in the presence of a narcissistic mother. There were no studies being presented on how the narcissistic mother wants to adopt...for the glory she receives as being the martyr, and although she adopts more than one child, she chooses only one to love. Leaving the other, or others, to curl and die. Neglect and cruelty are her weapons of my destruction.
Eventually I did succeed at my goal of finding rest, away from her, whom I still am completely unable to please… in the form of 63 sleeping pills, one terrible night, and a very long stay in a hospital in Florida.
I was discovered by a neighbor, and the rest led to now. The night I awoke, alone in the hospital hooked up to lines and needles and tubes there was a maintenance lady cleaning near me. She came into my room and said to me kind, warm words. I’ll never forget that she told me that I did have a purpose. She told me I was loved, and loveable. I still wish I knew who she was. She reached me with simple kindness and a showing of love. She saw me, as where I’d been born invisible. She showed me just enough Jesus to strengthen me to go on. Maybe she was an angel. To me she was.
The years with my mother have continued to be extremely difficult and always hurtful, however I maintain the relationship to my best ability from a distance. In my late 30’s, I made a first attempt to begin to try to find anyone biologically related to me, but even filling out the adoption registry paperwork was too much and led me into crying fits and depression. So, I dropped it. After I’d been married for several years and had my own children and created a support system, I tried again. It was a difficult ride. A roller coaster. I joined Ancestry. I filled out the adoption registry. I received a letter back stating that no one had been looking for me. That was really hard. As an adoptee, you always hold out hope that somewhere, someone remembers... but, nothing... but I kept moving.
And after compiling books of notes, and years of research, I did find my biological mother. And wrote her a letter. And she responded. But she wasn’t really interested in a relationship... but she does look like me... and I do have 2 half-brothers… and they do look like me. But there’s nothing there. Just strangers with a bloodline.
But she did share the hard news. That was that I myself, was the result of what happens when a 12-year-old little girl gets raped by a 30-year-old man. That's how I came to be. And yet, she was brave, and her mother was not a murderer, so I lived.
I was finally allowed my adoption papers. I lived. I was never given a name. I was in an orphanage for over a year and unadoptable during that time. Not held. Not known. Not loved. Not wanted. Completely helpless to the whims of humans. However, it has become increasingly evident that during my complete helplessness I was still kept.
I was cradled in the arms of my Father in Heaven. I was kept by Him and ONLY by Him.
It has been a hard ride. Long and hard and lonely. My greatest joy has been having my children. Creating my family and pouring all my love into them. I need to also say that my adopted dad’s family did not have the constraints placed on them by my adopted mother. My dad’s family showed me love always and provided a safe place for me just to be a normal child. As to where my adopted mother was hateful, they were like honey. So, in them I found the love I needed.
My Grandma and Aunt did their very best to reach to me, and undeniably love me. My Aunt even went so far as to ensure my baptism when I was 18 and had come to live with them, escaping my adopted mothers grip. The way I see it is that not a lot of people love you enough to be concerned if you’re going to Heaven. Well, my Aunt was. And although I moved from her home a year later and got out on my own, she was always close to my heart. That's what happens when you show love, you get love too.
I’m 47 now. A family of my own. A continued struggle with my adopted mom that I maintain from a distance. My Aunt recently passed. Last Christmas Eve, as her last wish, she gifted me her home and land. Knowing my love for her, and this area that she provided as a safe haven in those really hard years, there is a circle that’s been completed. I have never been a happier soul. My soul is filled with rejoicing at seeing the way that God has been working and moving in my life since I was an infant. I was NEVER alone. I do not cry any more for that baby that was me. Instead I see now the ways in which He held me, provided for me, filled in the empty spots, and supplied my healing. He has taught me to rely upon HIM. By example. I had nothing else to rely upon and yet He was there.
Upon moving back here to Locust Fork, my family and I have been attending the very church I was baptized in, when it was much smaller. We’ve been here 2 months now, our son started school at the elementary school, and we are doing well. Coincidentally I was asked to sing a song I also play on my guitar this Sunday at the very church I sang my first song at! At the very church my Aunt made sure I got to go to. I feel life has seriously come full circle and my only wish is that she could be here to witness it all. I believe really that maybe from her spot in Heave she already can.
Submitted by: Anonymously
Wow! This story just hit me all in the feels! It never ceases to amaze me at how God weaves our story together over time. When you are in the middle of the chapter, it all seems so confusing. Nothing is making sense. You're anxious and maybe even angry. But faithful is He that holds the pen! He puts your story together so beautifully no matter how broken the pieces.
Love and lemons,