It’s time for me to open up about this publicly. I was apprehensive in discussing this with almost anyone except my best friend. And she’s been the only person I’ve shared this issue with. And through various drunken nights and tears. I don’t like discussing my thoughts and feelings when it’s involving such personal things. But this is something I have to be open about. Those nights I spent sobbing to my best friend while binge drinking are over. There is no way of bringing up this topic without sounding dramatic, so I’m just going to rip that bandage off.
Since childhood, I’ve been making the assumption that I was adopted. This feeling never disappeared. I don’t bring this up to my mother. It would hurt her. It wouldn’t benefit me either. My mother and I have always had a very awkward relationship. And let me make this clear. My mother is not a bad mother. She loved me. And tried to do her best. Especially when my “father” fell short on the parenting area. We didn’t fight endlessly. She never hit me. But we bickered more like siblings. I never felt that mother/daughter bond. It was my assumption that we just had that sort of relationship. But the affection that came from her in moments where she attempted to give me comfort only felt strange to me. Her hugs during my worst moments felt like a stranger was hugging me. It was awkward for me.
My relationship with my father does not exist at all. My love for him never did either. There were certain periods of my life where I don’t remember him there at all. Even my mother said that she remembers him disappearing for days at a time. Going who knows where. He never said anything to anyone. My father played pretend as I became older. The loving father. The thought as of this moment makes me slightly nauseated. I can only really remember 3 moments in my life where I sought affections from him. He’s never treated me as a daughter except in moments where it benefits him in public eye. While my mothers hugs and kisses where always filled with genuine love, my fathers was not. In truth, I can’t say I ever really wanted it. I was genuinely happy with it just being my mother and Baba.
I made myself verbally open to several people about my assumption of my adoption. There was no clear cut “No. You are not adopted!” from my mother or grandmother. Instead they were very defensive remarks. And yelling. Especially from my father when he over heard. “What did you see that bullshit on tv?”. My grandmother has never really acknowledged my questions. Changing the subject really quickly was the trick she had. I can’t remember if I was 10 or 11. But I remember one instance where I started crying randomly all the time. I was started to get frustrated. Not with other people. But myself. I thought I was either stupid, or crazy. During my teen years, looking back on my behaviour between the ages of 10 to 12, my imagination was my only escape from everything. I started fantasising at that time about having a different mother and father. A different family. My home life wasn’t horrible at this age. But I started going through a dark time at this point. There was a bit of bickering between my mother and father. And my mother would at times verbally lash out at me. And at school I was being bullied very badly by these two boys. When I got older I chucked that fantasy of mine in the trash because I thought I was just escaping my reality in my own way.
It was partially true. But that void I had inside of me would never really leave me. And still has not. I managed to convince myself that I wasn’t adopted. That I was just miserable and was looking for that escape. I’m 27 years old. I’m not an over emotional teenager. And I’m not a tween that is looking for an escape from my reality. I’m a married woman capable of rational thought now. I analyse before responding. I think between I take the next crucial step. Now looking back and analysing certain things I was shown and told, it does not make sense at all. I’ve tried taking a step back and trying to look at everything I was thinking and feeling. Was I just still clinging on to a fantasy because of my horrible experience with my father? Did I just never shake that feeling from childhood because I am stubborn? Maybe my mother was telling me the truth after all?
I have so much more that I want to mention. But most of that “evidence” involves documentation. Just something about all of this does not add up. I wish I could say that my gut instinct was a reliable source for all for this. But it’s not. It’s the one thing I have to go on that I feel is reliable. I just can’t help but feel like the family I was raised with was not my own. And and that I have this “gut feeling”. And that my real family may be looking for me. The result of this could be a double edged sword. And pretty much is.
The most positive outcome: find my real family and turns out I’m not crazy and my gut instincts were right and that they were looking for me all along. (Dreamer Scenario)
Negative outcome: I’m not really adopted, but I was being over dramatic and jumping to conclusions over nothing.
I am adopted and my real mother was a alcoholic/drug addict, and my father was just a vaginal jumper (dude that just sleeps around). And I was given up for adoptions because I was unwanted.
The idea that I was completely wrong about the speculation of my adoption often puts me in more fear then the idea of actually being adopted and unwanted by my real biological family. I’m fully willing to except that idea if it really was the case. I grew up with a grandmother and mother who genuinely loved and cared about me. Even if I was adopted and taken from parents who really wanted me but couldn’t keep me, nothing would change the fact that my grandmother and mother were the best people in my life growing up.
I know what some people may be thinking “Hire a professional”.
Here is the thing, I would if I could. If you know my fathers history, you would know he’s a sleazy and slippery fucker. I wont get too detailed to how this ties in to this documents that referred to earlier, but lets keep it at it makes it hard to go straight back to the very beginning. Also if anyone has looked into hiring a P.I. is fucking expensive. Money I don’t have. The retainer itself is expensive.
Where to go from here…
Putting myself out there. That’s the best I can do. Using Facebook as a source for it. I would ask my father for information but thats not an option. My father isn’t a reliable source. He’s made some pretty detailed lies up, and he is also dangerous for me to be around. It hasn’t been until recently I started to feel safe after I heard he moved back to Arizona. It’s the first time in years I have felt truly safe.
I’m aware that all this sounds incredibly overdramatic. But when you have this feeling stick with you nearly your entire life, it tends to dig into your mind in a negative way. Unfortunately, there is just a lot of road blocks I have to deal with thanks to my parents. If anything changes, I will keep you guys up to date. But as of right now, I’m trying to go through all the affordable (or free) sources like Facebook.
I’m sure the way I began this blog entry really emphasise how much this has effected me over the years. Several years of having nights of tearful binge drinking, and one occasion that nearly had me hospitalised during one of those binges.