I spoke with a strong lady last night.  I like her very much, we have a lot in common.  We’ve been down some of the same roads.

In speaking with her and others involved in adoption, I’m always struck not so much by the similarities, but our reactions to them.  I’m beginning to detect patterns somewhat like the stages of grief.

It seems that many of us start out as the happy adoptee, we cannot fathom what these angry people are saying. What do they mean by declaring adoption as something like slavery?  Our parents loved us didn’t they?  We were cared for.

Then we come up against everybody from the government to our families and friends treating us like the eternal child when we complain about the lack of information available to us.  At first we wonder why the hell they are so mad at us for just wanting to know what everybody else does.  Then it occurs to us they don’t think we deserve to know these things, we should just be grateful that someone adopted us.  This is where the anger starts.

We aren’t really mad a these people, we are mad at something much bigger.  We start to sense what we are up against.  It seems that the institutions and people who should help us are instead putting up every roadblock possible to finding answers.  It dawns on us that those angry adoptees might just have a legitimate reason for their anger, but we aren’t quite there yet.

So we take on the system, with varying degrees of sucess.  Some of us find what we are looking for, some don’t.  The funny thing is, from that point, it doesn’t seem to matter.  Those who are disappointed stay mad, those who aren’t stay mad too.  Knowing what you missed is every bit as maddening as not knowing.

No matter which road life takes us on, we end up in the same place.  All roads lead to anger.

What’s the next stop on the road?  I honestly don’t know.

I’m stil mad.

I hope there is reslution for every single one of us, all I know is many of us are walking together now.


8 thoughts on “

  1. As I recall the next step, I actually skipped the mad part, went 0 to 60 from denial to oh my god oh my god oh my god, I lost my mother, my aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, all dead but only to me, and I am obligated to play this role into death, and there is no one I can talk to about this and the grief is unfucking relenting and chronic.

    And the revealation, oh this is why I am the way I am, so guarded.

  2. Joy, I am so sorry. It is a perfectly normal reaction. Maybe some of us are stuck in the anger phase of grief.

    Dead, but not dead, I suppose I always took that for granted. Maybe because I’ve always seen myself as alone, it never even occurred to me to grieve. Maybe I was just so happy to find somebody, anybody, I was willing to settle for it.

    I don’t know.

  3. I don’t know how any adoptee can NOT be angry.

    I think I was angry from about age 4 on.

    My mother didn’t expect me to be angry. That was her misfortune. Well mine too, for a long time.

    And I’m on a new path now. But no matter where this path leads, I will ALWAYS hate adoption. Some things never change.

  4. So true, Addie. All of it.

    Before I traveled to Seoul almost 2 years ago, I contacted the post-adoption services of the agency my parents used to try and find my foster parents (I was with them for the first 6 months of my life before being adopted by my parents – according to my records). Basically the reponse I got was that the information they did have on my foster parents was old and they didn’t have any forwarding information to give me. They wouldn’t release a name or even the old telephone number/former address so that I could try and locate them myself. At the time, we were preparing to adopt our son, and that battle from the agency was more than I felt that I could take on, but I was both incredulous and disappointed at their response. Looking back, I’m appalled at the way the news of my (lack of) information was delivered. The nonchalant and unconcerned tone was very startling, to say the very least. I doubt they even tried the old phone number to see if they really did still live there!

    Looking back, I wish I would have fought it. It was my right to know.

    I’m not expecting that they’ll be any more helpful or cooperative in the search of my natural parents, but at least this time around I will be fighting a hell of a lot harder for any and all information that they have on me.

    I loved this post – thank you.

  5. Addie, I found you from Kim’s. I completely agree – loss of identity is a crime against human rights. Anger at that lost is entirely justified, and is an energy that can fuel change. By writing here you’re helping to make that change happen. Thanks, and I’m looking forward to reading more.

  6. You know I need to realize this about myself. I am deathly afraid to grieve. I am afraid to let it out completely because I might become a crazed lunatic.

  7. Hi Addie…………also found you from Kim’s.
    Just got a glimpse of your blog – I shall read more.
    Really like your writing.
    I can’t work out if I’m grieving – or angry – or just messed up????????????
    I just wish to be validated – I think.
    Perhaps I’m already a crazed lunatic!!!!!!!!
    Thanks for speaking your truths.

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