It Was All A Lie!
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How could this happen to me? What happened today, I could not have prepared for in a million years. It was definitely not the way I had thought it would have been. It was like something out of a movie, a horror movie, playing in slow motion. Only I could not control the reel.
I received the letter from the courthouse regarding my adoption. As I sat there and stared at it, wondering what was inside, I was both excited and nervous. Was I ready to find out who my birth parents were? After 23 years of wondering about them, was I finally ready to find out about them? I took a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. I felt ready to take the next step. I was finally ready to open the envelope. The answers to my search were all inside.
It contained a two-page letter, but no birth certificate. It told me whom to contact regarding my second adoption, since that was handled by an agency. I was ok with that, I was more anticipating information regarding my first adoption and my birth parents. I paused between paragraphs, taking another deep breath and asking myself if I was truly ready to read on. I felt that I was, so I proceeded.
What I read next left me feeling numb inside. I could hardly breath. My body started tensing up. I desperately needed my safe place, but I couldn't take my eyes off the letter. What it said shocked me. Who could have guessed that one paragraph in a letter could change someone's life so drastically? I felt the past twenty-three years flash before my eyes. It was all lies! I felt sick to my stomach. It took me twenty-three years to get to this point, of wondering about my birth parents, and then recently deciding to look for them. Before that, I didn't even know I was adopted.
It wasn't until the second adoption at age 15, did I find out that I was adopted the first time at the age of 4. My sense of belonging disappeared. My head was filled with questions. Why was I adopted? Why didn't my parents want me? But also, I felt glad. Thank goodness I was not related to the people who had made my childhood a living hell with all the physical and sexual abuse. At least I wasn't a part of them, and that gave me strength to become a survivor. To be strong. Out there somewhere were my birth parents who gave me up out of love. For twenty-three years, I wondered about them. What they were doing? What were they like? Was I like them? Did I look like them? For twenty-three years I wondered. Then finally one day recently, I decided to look for them. I felt ready to learn more about them. I would decide later if or when I was ready to contact them.
Then it happened. I was sick inside. Thoughts racing in my head. My whole past was flashing before my eyes. What I found out was that my first adopted parents were really my birth parents. My birth mother was married at the time, and had an affair with my birth father. As a result, I was born. Two years later, my birth mother divorced her first husband, and married my birth father. Two years after that, my birth father adopted me.
Why couldn't they (the agency that handled my second adoption) just have told me that in the first place! Why did they have to only say that I was adopted, and not give me any other information? Leaving me to come to my own conclusions that I had real parents out there whom loved me. Parents who wouldn't have abused me physically or sexually. Parents who would have put me on a pedestal.
For whatever reason, the agency did not disclose that information to me at the age of 15. Maybe one of the reasons were God's reasons to give me hope and strength to face the horrors that had happened to me, and to find the strength to face my adopted parents in court. I was only 15, and had already experienced a lifetime of pain. For twenty-three years I have held onto the dream of someday meeting my birth parents. They surely would have loved me more than my first adopted parents did. I believed that they would not have abused me.
Thoughts are racing through my head. My body is still tense. Loss of faith and strength overcome me. I feel very weak and vulnerable. The past twenty-three years have been a lie. The sense of not belonging overcomes me. I didn't have a family out there waiting for me. There was no one there with open arms, waiting to give me a much-deserved hug for all that I went through. There was no one there for me. It was all a lie!
Now I had to face an even greater truth. My first adopted parents were my birth parents. I could not change that. Every thought that raced through my head, left me asking the same question. Why? Why did they do all the nasty things that they had done? Why abuse me for seven years of my short life? Why? Why? Why? I was a part of them. That makes me a bad person too. Their abusive blood that ran through their body, also runs through mine. I can not change that. Their abusive personalities that they had, were also in me. I was related to them, and they to me. Was I going to turn out just like them? Was I going to abuse my kids?
I have never raised my hand to either of my kids. I have never believed in that. I figured that I took enough beatings for a few generations in the future, and was not going to subject my kids to what I went through as a child. Our home is full of hugs, and of love. Something that I never had as a child, but always longed for.
It was easier to believe that all the beatings of the past, all the sexual abuse of the past, all were done by people who were not related to me. Who only adopted me. Then to find out that was a lie, well it is devastating to say the least! Now what do I do? My search for my birth parents left me feeling so empty inside. I didn't want to go on with life. How could I get past this news that I had just learned? How could I let go of the dream of someday meeting my birth parents, which would truly love me? How does one let go of all of that after twenty-three years of dreaming? Where does one go from here?
I asked my self if I was sorry that I decided after all these years to search for my birth parents, and the answer was no. Because I did a lot of praying about this to God. I asked Him for guidance. He had to have felt that I was ready for this devastating news, and was ready to move on to the next step. Though I may not understand His timing, I have to trust in Him, and have faith in Him. All I can do now is pray for friends who will support me now when I need them the most.
Right now, I feel lost. I don't know what to do. I feel numb all over. I can't sleep. I can't eat. My depression and anxiety levels are high. I wish I could get to my safe place, but the thoughts are racing through my head so fast, I can't even relax enough to go there. God, please help me. I need your guidance for this one.
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© Terri
