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“Recently I’ve been working on children’s human rights with respect to their biological origins and biological families. In that work I’ve argued that we must recognize that children have human rights with respect to knowing the identity of their biological parents and, if at all possible, their immediate and wider biological families; having a mother and a father, preferably their own biological parents; and to come from natural biological origins.”
“It is one matter for children not to know their genetic identity as a result of unintended circumstances. It is quite another matter to deliberately destroy children’s links to their biological parents, and especially for society to be complicit in this destruction.”
~Margaret Somerville, Canadian ethicist and academic. She is the Samuel Gale Professor of Law, Professor in the Faculty of Medicine and the Founding Director of the Faculty of Law’s Centre for Medicine, Ethics and Law at McGill University. [Exerpt from a Panel discussion in 2007]
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The Adoption Committee is now in Session:
= Rejection
= Abandonment
= Sabotage
= Unworthy
= Confused
= Identity
= Betrayed
Usually Abandonment and Rejection lead the meeting by creating negative situations or scenarios within the mind. Then Sabotage takes a hold of those feelings and runs wild with it, while Unworthy and Betrayed press and encourage their point. Confused and Identity are more on the quiet side because they really don’t know who they are, so it’s hard for them to speak up.
See, within these crazy adoption issues is a vicious circle. “How do I value myself when I don’t know who I am?” “How can I love myself, when the person who is suppose to love me the most - gives me away?” The response you most often hear is: “They did it out of love,” or “they made the ultimate sacrifice and wanted a better life for you.” And when you are a person, like me, who at the age of three was told what a pretty little girl I was…and I replied with, “...no I’m not, I’m adopted...” The “ultimate sacrifice” and “out of love” thing isn’t going to fly. So, my teenage years were tough…and my young adulthood, even tougher.
And without going into how I played the victim most of my life and searched for my sense of self, what I know for sure is thus: Creating a foundation to build your life on is choice and faith. If I wake up in the morning and decide I’m going to have a bad day, then my life will reflect it. If I wake up each morning grateful to be alive and in the graces of God; my life will reflect it. If I want to make my life better by just talking about it...it isn’t going to happen. If I want to make my life better and take action – my life will soar because I decided to create movement and healing.
Sometimes, I feel I fight a little harder than most because of this unruly committee. Daily, I work affirmations and constantly stay optimistic, I’ve learned to let go [A LOT]…knowing if the conscious feelings and the subconscious feelings don’t match…the Law of Attraction just ain’t going to work…ya know? I’m a work in progress…I have learned to become aware through trial and error. I’ve learned to live in compassion; instead of fear. I’ve learned wisdom to overcome obstacles I created. I’ve learned to defuse uncomfortable situations and find a loving way out. I’ve learned to listen and become aware of my emotions and feelings and what is being triggered.
Living in constant ciaos…constant victim hood is no longer an option. Robbing myself of a happy life because somewhere deep inside there is a dark and lonely glob of goo that doesn’t want success, happiness, love and affection. To constantly put into motion a seed of self discovery and change.
The secret is mind over matter. To watch word patterns – thought patterns – taking positive action in your own life. To become aware of issues so you can identify them, bless them and let them go. Creating the space for forgiveness for your self and others.
If the above sounds familiar and you are searching for your way out of the Victim Hood and into self love, and self acceptance – then let’s work together to achieve the fulfilling life you were brought here to live.
**Below is my personal adoption story.
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MY STORY:
Once upon a time there was a little girl who was adopted from Foster Care when she was 5 months old. Her adopted mother had one child and had wanted another, yet went through several miscarriages. The adopted father didn’t want another child. On the day she went home, all three of them came to pick her up. Pictures where taken and a new life was beginning for all of them.
Because of the little girl’s trauma of being disconnected from her birthmother, the little girl was often sick. She had every food allergy under the sun, which in most self-healing books tells us: Allergies are denying your own power. She would have to go into the hospital several times for pneumonia, which again healing books say: Tired of life and emotional wounds that are not allowed to heal. At a very early age she developed asthma: Fear of life. Not wanting to be here.
When this young girl was three, her adoptive mother was holding her as they stood in a line at the grocery store. A gentleman in front of them turned and said what a pretty little girl she was…the little girl then replied with, “no I’m not…I’m adopted.”
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At 14 she started looking for her birthparents. Her adoptive mother told her, I don’t mind if you inquire, just don’t let your father know – it will make him very angry. So she did it behind every one’s back. Once again feeding the beast of secret’s and lies.
At 23, she petitioned to have her adoption file opened and 2 years later was assigned an intermediary, who would open the file, contact her birthmother and advise her that the daughter she gave up for adoption in 1966 (she had relinquished another daughter a year before her in 1965) was interested in making contact with her. If the birthmother said NO – the file would be sealed and the girl would have to find another way to work through the system.
After thinking about it for a month, the mother agreed to speak with her. For the next 9 months the girl would call her and try to make a connection that was lost at birth. The birthmother was not very grounded and of sound mind. Her granddaughter was living with her at the time and was pregnant and due to give birth in May. She didn’t want her granddaughter to know her birth daughter had re-entered the atmosphere so she would hide in a closet to speak with the girl or she would pretend the girl was selling magazines and would tell her she wasn’t available to talk at that time.
About the middle of May the girl called her birthmother to check in and she told her that the granddaughter had her baby. The birthmother stated that she tried to convince her granddaughter to have the baby on the girls birthday, however, it didn’t work out so well….instead the granddaughter named the baby boy after the girl. At birth, the girls birth name was Tony. The granddaughter named her son Tony after a girl and a relative she wasn’t even aware existed.
They made plans in September, interestingly enough 9 months after the initial contact, to meet. During the summer leading up to this time, the girl was so overwhelmed with emotions and the pain of meeting her past and the very woman who abandoned her…she wanted to commit suicide. The overpowering thought of facing abandonment and rejection in person was too much to handle. It was physically and emotionally so painful. And she just wasn’t certain she would be able to manage.
September came and she flew back to her hometown for a week visit to meet her birthmother. On this same trip she was going to meet with the daughter her birthmother had given up for adoption prior to her birth as well. As it turned out her birthmother was nowhere to be found. The girl called and called and she never answered the phone. She drove by her house and no one was home. She didn’t understand, her birthmother knew she was coming especially for her. As a side distraction from her birthmother, her previously adopted half sister was more than happy to meet her. They hooked up and had dinner. It was awkward at first – they spent a lot of time just staring at each other looking for similarities: which the girl really couldn’t see.
Finally on the last night of her trip she was able to contact her birthmother and get a good time to come over. Before she was to go see her birthmother, she visited with a very good friend of hers who was like a big sister. The girl told her how it went with meeting her half sister and how her birthmother had blown her off until this evening. The girl was in good spirits everything was fine. It wasn’t until she got up to leave that everything hit like an emotional brick wall. Tears and sobbing came flooding forward in an overwhelming way. Her friend didn’t know what to do and kept reassuring her she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to. The girl kept saying I have to…I’ve waited to long not to go now. After 10 minutes or so, she pulled herself together got in her rental car and drove over to her birthmothers house.
At the top of the street, before parking in front of her birthmothers house…the girl finished crying and reapplied her make-up so her birthmother didn’t realize she had emotionally broken down. She rang the doorbell, immediately a little dog started to bark and would continue to bark the whole time the girl was there. Finally her birthmother answered the door. Immediately the girl started to assess the situation and her birthmother looking for any connection to make her feel whole and connected to something…anything. Her birthmother was short and had long gray hair. Her face was aged; you could tell she had been through some wars of her own. They sat on separate ends of the couch while the barking dog was underneath yapping. Her birthmother watched THE SIMPSON’S at one end of the couch and the girl eyed the living room to see if there was any kind of familiarity she could lock into. There was a picture of a woman up on a burrow in a corner, the girl asked who it was and her birthmother said it was HER mother. Later the girl would find out it was actually a picture of the birthmother. The woman in the picture looked EXACTLY like the daughter who had been given up for adoption prior to her. After 20 minutes of just sitting and listening to the dog bark under the couch, looking for something to connect to, and watching her birthmother watch TV the girl decided that was enough. As she was walking down the sidewalk her birthmother yelled out “don’t forget where I live.” The birthmother would never make any attempts to contact the girl.
A year later the girl was having dinner with some fellow Adoptee’s and birthmother’s who asked her about her experience meeting her birthmother….as the girl started to speak about her experience, she stopped and realized she couldn’t remember her birthmother’s name, her sister’s name or what had happened. It was so traumatic she had blocked it out of her mind.
In an effort to deal with her adoption issues she found a therapist who was also adopted. This therapist was extremely gracious to the girl. Not only did she give her a discounted rate on her sessions, eventually the therapist told her she didn’t have to pay because the girl was helping her with her own adoption issues.
Along with another adoptee friend, she started a support group for Adoptee’s Only; a space where Adoptee’s could go and feel safe to talk about life issues, feelings and truly know they were not alone in the process of adoption life.
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When the young girl hit 30 after some years of therapy, she realized she needed to go back and visit her birthmother – there was some unfinished business there. The young girl made the necessary arrangements – went back to her hometown, and once again went to the house of the birthmother who told her ”don’t forget where I live.” Interestingly enough, everything was different this time. Once the girl rang the doorbell the dog started barking and then a little boy opened the door. His name was Tony and he was 5 years old. He said to the girl “you must be my grandma’s friend..” She said, “yes, I am. Are you Tony?” He said, “yep!” All of a sudden that little yappy dog became her best friend and quit barking. Tony, his grandmother and the girl went to lunch at Pizza Hut down the street. Tony went to play video games and the young girl told her birthmother she forgave her and that she should let go any shame, pain, or sadness she held towards the action of the girls relinquishment. For the young girl, it felt freeing – like a weight had been lifted. As for her birthmother, the advisement fell on deaf ears. She would choose to hold on to her pain for the rest of her life.
After the girl left her birthmother and namesake, she drove around for a while. She let her instincts take over and just drove the car to a place where she could take some pictures that might indicate and reflect how she was feeling. She shot a couple rolls of film
She came back home; she had the pictures developed and took them to her therapist. The therapist carefully looked at each picture. She sat back in her chair, folded her arms and asked the girl, “do you know what these are pictures of?” The girl looked a little perplexed…she knew what they were pictures of, yet she didn’t KNOW what they were pictures of exactly. They therapist said…”they are all of abandoned building.” The girl picked up the stack of pictures and looked through them again, herself. Yes…yes they were all pictures of buildings that were empty, abandoned, standing alone, and rejected by the people who use to once occupy them.
The girl had a couple pictures blown up and framed and put them in her bedroom to remind her where she had been and how far she was about to go.
The therapist encouraged the girl to really go deep inside and look within. She gave her tools to work with to let go and face her demons head on. It wasn’t easy, during this time if the girl would enter into an intimate relationship she would go into a deep depression and want to run or sabotage the relationship. The girl would feel worthless and unworthy of the guy who was willing to care for her. When things ended in the relationships, the girl would take on the pain so hard, because of feeling rejected and abandoned – she would want to commit suicide. On two occasions she tried. Often the girl would use the death option as a tool. For years dealing with the pain inside would be just too much to handle and she would find herself at the edge of a cliff ready to jump off. One night after a relationship had ended – she was at the end of her rope. She put life and death on the table and said to herself, commit to one. If you choose death – do it. If you choose life…you can NEVER go to the option of death again. On that long and painful night, she chose LIFE.
That girl is a woman…that woman is me.
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