The Other Shoe

Hello Blogville friends! Welcome back, it is so nice to see you. This morning I am drinking a turmeric chai tea as I write to you. As an adopted person I feel it is important to open up a dialogue about adoption topics (and sometimes other topics too) that impact on so many of us. You may not realize it but many of us struggle and feel so alone. I see you, WE matter!

*Note to my birth half-siblings- or other adult children of birth parents who placed- you may want to stop reading here. As their kept children, your experience with our birth parents was very different. When you came along our birth parents were ready to parent. My experience, that this blog is about to address, is one only other adopted people can likely relate to. In fact, I sent the blog draft to a friend, who is also an adult adopted person, for their thoughts, and this was their response, “Thank you for putting words to something I’ve been trying to make sense of. It landed.” So, here goes: 

As you may or may not be aware, there is a lot of discussion in the world of adoption (especially among adopted people) about trauma. I want to say I am no expert on trauma except for my lived experience and from listening to others who have travelled an adoption journey. Therefore, I am confident in informing, or warning, you that what I am about to share is rooted in my own personal abandonment trauma. So, please feel free to read on, or to exit without reading, I don’t judge.

The other day I was scrolling through facebook, you know, checking out the posts of my former colleagues and my friends, like you, just to see what they are up to. I was suddenly engulfed by a strong, but very familiar feeling; loss. I have talked with you before about how easily I feel rejected and, dare I say, especially feeling neglected in relationships. I honestly think many of my feelings of rejection circle back to having been adopted. Well, that’s not exactly right, it relates back to having been freed for adoption. 

The infant in me says, ‘You were not valued. You were not worth keeping. You were a problem that needed to be disposed of.’ The adult in me acknowledges these thoughts and feelings while constantly trying to rephrase those negative thoughts. ‘You may not have been valued by your birth parents, but you were highly valued by your adoptive parents.’ ‘Even though you were not worth keeping by your birth family, you turned out to be worthwhile to your adoptive family.’ Unfortunately, I cannot find the words to rephrase the ongoing thought that I was a problem that needed to be disposed of. I cannot fully comprehend that I literally was never meant to exist. I think that is why I have lived most of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s exhausting.

So, when I’m checking facebook posts and see how much fun my friends are having without me, I am afraid. My birth parents went on to happily live their lives without me too. What would make me think that my friends will want to spend time with me? What makes me think I’m worth it? My birth parents met new partners, married, and had ‘real’ children. Children they could acknowledge, love, make memories with, care for and about. Children that did not need to be disposed of. Life goes on, ‘they’ say. Well, life without me went on for my birth parents and the families they eventually created. I was not a part of their happily ever after. So, the child in me whispers in my ear to remind me of my ‘place’. Unwanted. Wow that makes it hard to reach out to friends whom I just know are having fun without me. In my mind, they, like my birth parents, do not need me for their happily ever after. They are probably spending time with their ‘real’ friends instead.

The funny thing is that I never see it coming, and it seems to take forever for me to realize how I’m truly feeling. Others might get upset when friends don’t reach out to them, or when their friends don’t try to include them in their plans. Others might get upset when they feel they always have to do the reaching out. Me? I realize that if I don’t reach out, I will simply be forgotten, their alliances changed, leaving me behind. A part of me realizes that I should simply expect to be left behind, just like I was following my birth. So, I am often afraid to reach out. It is kind of like taking liquid medication, it tastes awful but it is the right thing to do. How many times do you bring the spoonful of medicine up to your mouth before you actually find the courage to swallow it? That’s how many times I draft an email, or a comment for their FB post, or draft a text without ever actually following through.

The risks in reaching out first are high, what if I’m actually and truly not worth knowing, then my reaching out will make it awkward for them. I already suspect that I am no longer worth knowing, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, to find out that they have found and replaced me with ‘real’ friends. The weird thing is that I know all of this might not be true. I know that my friends and I share a history that we all cherish. We share so many memories that make us smile when we reminisce. Together as friends, we have travelled the ups and downs of being single, being broke, being ok financially, being married, being childless, raising children, rolling our eyes at our parents and then crying those same eyes out when we lost them. I am grateful for their friendship, and for every moment with them, but still I want more. The question is, am I deserving?

At the same time, I know I should be grateful for everything we shared and maybe I’m being selfish wanting to stay friends, or for wanting more. Maybe we have simply lost our commonality, or maybe it really is something I said, or did, and not simply their realization that I was never actually meant to be born? Only they know for sure. Maybe, one day, they will share this with me. Too afraid to ask, I simply wait for the other shoe to drop.

Thank you so much for visiting with me today. I so enjoy your company and I hope you find some benefit in reading my blogs. As always, feel free to comment here or send me an e-mail at [email protected]. Also note that you can follow me on Goodreads and be the first to get new blog post notifications. See you next time.