Why are you so angry? Part two

A confession... I wasn’t telling the whole truth in my popular blog post about angry adoptees…

I worked so hard on my blog post Why are you so angry? It’s been read by 4,000 people and is my most popular post after What does it take to love an adoptee? The post was prompted by an email I received from a single male adopter asking (rhetorically I think),“Hello, i've (sic) parts of your blog. You seem very angry that you were adopted. I find that hard to understand- would you rather a child not prosper mentally and go on to lead a better life and have a dad/mother who loves and cares for them.”

In response to this, I wanted to explain in a constructive way why many adopted people are angry. I wanted to explain why having adoptive parents who love and care for you is not always enough. And I wanted to refute the suggestion that being adopted means you can prosper mentally (once I’d finished totting up how many thousands of pounds I’d spent on therapy). 

Rather than my personal story, I chose to focus on things like the social narrative around adoption and the disenfranchised grief adoptees feel. All of my points were researched and from the heart. However, I deliberately didn’t share much of my story. I was terrified of ‘being found out’ and being labelled ungrateful. Not by haters on the internet, but by the people who matter dearly to me. I was terrified of tempting fate and ruining my reunion should any of my bios stumble across the blog. Worse still, I was terrified my parents, brother and sister would see it and metaphorically throw me out; closing ranks as those bound by blood are known to do.

So, now in 2019, almost a year later, here are some of the things I am really angry about.  Looking at the list, many of them I’m actually really sad about. There is a known link between anger and sadness: the NHS states that anger can be a part of grief and “…there are things that make lots of us feel angry, including being treated unfairly and feeling powerless to do anything about it.” 

It goes without saying that my parents did a lot of things right, and I was – on the spectrum of adoptees – incredibly fortunate to track down and meet both bio parents. Goes without saying, and yet I feel the need to add it here. Mum, if you’re reading – this is my disclaimer. I love you and I know you did the best with what you knew at the time. It just wasn’t always enough. 

 The secrets we keep

• My birth mum initially didn’t tell my biological dad she was expecting.

• My paternal grandparents were not told or asked if they would consider raising me.

• My biological father was not named on my birth certificate as was the law at that time: couple not married + father not present at registration = “Father unknown”. (Remember these were the days when a man’s reputation was more important than a child/future adult’s identity*.)

• My parents waited until I was 13 to tell me I had been an identical twin. We were both due to be adopted by my parents but because she died at birth she never became part of our family and was never considered their child or my siblings’ sister.

• My twin was buried in a communal grave behind the hospital and I had to contact the local council myself to be given the ‘co-ordinates’ of the grave. I visited this baby cemetery by myself and will never forget the chilling experience. Why have my parents not visited? I’ll let you consider that.

•  My dad intimated that my biological dad was a nasty piece of work, so I believed for a number of years I may have been conceived due to rape or incest. This was not the case. They were just two teenagers from Southampton.

 The baby they longed for

• I was in hospital for 16 days after I was born and my mum can’t remember on which of these days she met me.

• My dad’s mother disowned him after they adopted me. They weren’t on the best of terms anyway, but a bastard baby was perhaps the nail in the coffin?

• From quite a young age, my mum told me she “tried for ten years before you came along”. As I grew older the penny dropped… if a woman can theoretically get pregnant 12-13 times a year, they tried 100+ times before they conceded defeat. Although very loved, I was not especially ‘wanted’ or ‘special’, I was choice number 100+.

• My parents had two biological children after adopting me and another little girl. I love my siblings dearly but I cannot deny this family dynamic was challenging at times. When my sister had her son a few years ago, while delighted to have a new nephew I was gripped by a primal feeling that this ‘real’ grandson would usurp my son. Blame on too much watching of Game of Thrones! There’s always a hierarchy and blood trumps all.

Therapeutic parenting hadn’t been invented

• On the whole my parents didn’t recognise/support me with my attachment-related feelings and behaviours.

• My parents moved house a lot and I went to four primary schools, which I believe may have contributed to my attachment issues.

• My compliance and people-pleasing was not discouraged, in fact at times it was encouraged as this made for a simpler life for my teachers, parents, etc.

• Some of my idiosyncrasies were seen as odd and different by my parents. The same for my sister. Our quirks were generally not celebrated or recognised as a) they didn’t fit in and b) they may be genetic and passed down from ‘they who must not be named’.

• My sister and I were not encouraged to have our own stories; we were characters in our parents’ adoption story.

• When my sister said she wanted to find her birth mum, aged about 11, my mum scoffed - rather than swallow her pride and normalise those (normal) feelings. I think it’s so important for adoptive families to have therapy in order to compassionately handle these moments.

Are you the woman I’ve been searching for?

• I feel that I can’t really be mad at my birth mum because she was adopted herself (at an older age than me in sadder circumstances) and didn’t hugely get on with her parents i.e. had a ‘worse’ adoption experience than me.

• My birth mother admitted she drank and smoke during pregnancy and “walked up and down a lot of stairs” from which you can draw your own conclusions. 

• Early on in reunion my birth mum forgot my birthday. I know memory loss is a recognised phenomenon with birth mothers; it still made me feel pretty shitty.

Still my dad even if you didn’t want to raise me

• My biological father didn’t tell his children they had a sister. 

• My biological father’s wife refused to meet me for a few years. When we were due to meet and I got stuck in traffic, she said it was a sign from God and cancelled the visit. I’ll leave that one there!

• He had to be cajoled into telling his mother and siblings about me. I still haven’t meet my two uncles or my aunt and I met my bio father in 2006!

• When I said being adopted was hard, my birth dad asked me to imagine what it was like to be a young man in the late 1970’s. I kid you not. He also once asked me when I was going to “stop harping on about adoption”.

Of course we don’t mind you searching!

• My parents knew my birth mother’s married surname but kept it from me. I spent my late teens and early 20s searching for her using laborious non-internet methods. Hello microfiche!

• When I showed an ex-boyfriend all my precious files, he looked at my birth mother’s marriage certificate dated a few years after I was born and said, “So you’re officially a bastard then.” Nice bloke.

• I asked my biological and adoptive parents to meet for the first time over a coffee before my wedding day. They refused and I was so anxious I got hammered fairly early on and don’t remember over half of the day. I feel sad when I look at some of my wedding photos. 

More support needed for adopted adults 

There are lots of things to be happy about, even grateful for, with my life as it is now. This is not a blog about how much my mum loves me and how much joy she gets from my children. This is a blog about anger and sadness and not getting the right support particularly as a child but also as an adopted adult in reunion.

I had some support from PAC-UK and some self-funded therapy but I have mostly relied on peer support to get me though reunion, which has been one of the most challenging experiences of my life. 

Thank you to On Being Adopted, Anne Heffron, Caitriona Palmer, Haley Radkee, Sarah Meadows, Mark Wilson and all my on- and offline adoptee friends – you rock. Thank you for making this lonely and misunderstood journey that bit easier.

*Not sure how much further society has come on this one. Answers on a postcard!

Photo by Gabriel Matula on Unsplash 

Born into a bubble of love?

Does the emotional environment around a child’s birth matter? 

I woke up today thinking about childbirth. I couldn’t remember if I cried when my children were born. I do know that my first child was placed in my arms after a minute or two and my second came to me immediately. This second birth was my “good birth”. The room was full of love, joy and even laughter. My face was serene and my smile was wide. There was a celebratory feeling in the room and even some laughter – such a great reliever of tension. 

We’d planned for this second birth to be as calm as possible because the birth of our first child had been stressful. This made me wonder about the experience my birth mother had, and how it may have affected me as a newborn and beyond. 

Pregnant in the late 1970s, society’s judgement of unmarried mothers at that time would certainly have had an impact on her treatment during antenatal checks and at my birth. In fact, she has told me herself that many medical professionals were dismissive, rude and even negligent. This is a horrible experience for a petrified young woman, and I am sure the baby (i.e. me) would have picked up on the sadness and shame in the room. 

This got me thinking about one possible difference between traditional and contemporary adoption. For children adopted today, with the trauma they carry and the challenges they face, many* will have one thing we older adoptees didn’t have: a happy birth. Although there was perhaps a chaotic environment at home or much deeper problems that would become apparent in months to come, to be born into a bubble of love and placed straight into your mother’s arms? That’s something that no one can ever take away from you.  

 *Not all, of course. 

If you are interested in the themes of this blog post, I recommend reading more about

• attachment theory

• the treatment of unmarried mothers

• how trauma is thought to stored in the body 

Anne Heffron is also a great person to follow on Instagram as she talks a lot about how the initial “welcome” into the world may have affected her as an adoptee. 

Photo by Aditya Romansa on Unsplash

Claiming space as an adoptee

Anyone else sometimes feel like running amok? Going rogue? Taking up some space for once? Here are a few crazy things I toy with doing from time to time. Things that, to even think about, make me feel super scared and cripplingly anxious.

However, I don’t want to break any official or unofficial rules. I don’t want to be “sent back” for not abiding by the terms and conditions of my adoption. Of course, then I remind myself I did not sign any terms and conditions. I wonder if I am being complicit in the secrecy that I so outwardly loathe and deride. If my behaviour is contributing to the sack of shame I carry over my shoulder wherever I go.

What’s the worst that could happen…?

Will I disappear in a puff of smoke if I…
Say I don’t believe in adoption as it is currently done?
Say I believe adoption is trauma?
Tell my children the lady whose house we visit annually is actually an extra granny?

Will I be arrested if I…
Name my birth parents on this blog?
Tag my biological siblings on Facebook?
Take a selfie outside my biological grandparent’s house?
Leave flowers on my paternal grandfather’s grave?

Will I deter future friends if I…
Answer the “Do you have any brothers and sisters?” question with the complicated truth?
Tell them about my attachment issues?

Will I be ridiculed if I…
Create a family tree on Ancestry?
Message a biological relative on ancestry and admit to being an adoptee?
Ask to be known by my original name?

Does an alarm go off of an adoptee claims their space on this earth? Or is it wonderfully exhilaratingly freeing? I’d love to know.... leave me a comment if you’ve done any of these things and tell me how it’s worked out.

Photo credit: Clem Onojeghuo clemono.com

9 things I would give my sister for Christmas

Would her own name, her own bedroom and a hell of a lot of support around attachment have stopped my sister becoming what they call in the trade “a bad outcome”?

As thoughts turn to Christmas, I don’t know where my sister is – again. Even with all the therapy and mindfulness in the world, I can’t always stop my obsessive thoughts about how she was failed by so many along her journey, including me. (With the caveat that many have helped too, although often after much of the damage had already been done.) 

With sensitivity to the fact that this is not my story to tell, and there are minors involved, here are nine things I wish for my sister:

1.   Her own name

All the reasons we were given about her name being changed were logical and seemed to add up. We didn’t question it. Now I know from speaking to other adoptees that having your name changed can bring a lot of issues. If it had to be changed, could she have been given a middle name linking her to her first family? 

2.   Better understanding of attachment 

My sister had some time without a primary care giver and I am wholly convinced it did irreparable damage. If we had understood this better we could have tried to support her more appropriately. Instead, we were all raised with the post-war “put up and shut up” model that my parents were comfortable with*.

3.   Support at school

My sister had huge issues at school, but was assessed as “on the border” which they rounded down to “doesn’t need support”. If I had a time machine I would get her to take that test again and lose one goddamn point. She needed and deserved so much more than any teacher at any school gave her. She was treated as a “normal” pupil who could and should be expected to adhere to school policy. 

Before I got back in my time machine, I would ask her teachers to read the stats around life outcomes for care experienced children who are excluded from school. And ask them to consider that exclusion is another rejection, another confirmation of unworthiness and dispensability.

4.   Her own bedroom

Having your own space is important for developing a sense of identity, particularly in adolescence. Our house wasn’t huge and two of my siblings shared a room. This meant when my sister most needed her own space, she literally had none. I cannot add any more here except to say, I was selfish and I should have agreed to a ‘timeshare’ of my room.

5.   A relationship with her birth mother 

Although originally thought to be unsafe, her birth mother went on to have a large, happy family. I do not know why the ‘rules’ cannot be updated if a birth parent’s situation changes along the line. I believe they would have both benefitted from some form of contact, as is more the norm today.

6.   A lifestory book

A lifestory book including photographs is something I would gift all us older adoptees, although I know many younger adoptees would say theirs are a load of rubbish. With more than one home before she came to us, the first few chapters of my sister’s life were blank. Without anything concrete, except a teddy with her original name, it may have felt that these chapters simply did not matter. It doesn’t take long for a traumatised brain to change that sentiment into “I don’t matter”.

7.   A friend

As I now have some understanding of attachment I can see why she had difficulty forming and maintaining friendships. And I am ashamed to say we weren’t good friends growing up, particularly not when she most needed one in our early teens. 

A good friend can be a lighthouse. If I could, I would gift my sister one good friend to understand her and see her through tough times. 

8.   A reunion with her birth mother

For reasons I cannot share, their reunion was thwarted and there won’t be another chance. 

When the reunion was first mooted, I could have got on a train to chaperone and support her. I didn’t. This makes me feel really shitty. I’m so sorry, sis. At the same time, there is not enough support in the UK for adoptees and care leavers undertaking delicate reunions. I believe the system that separated mother and child has a duty to support them during reunion and beyond.  

9.   A hug over a hot chocolate

I miss you sis, you crazy fool. Please hang in there wherever you are and don’t you dare go anywhere before I get to say all this to your face over a hot chocolate. (Definitely not a cup of tea; your teas are minging!) x

* Every time I mention my parents in a blog I literally seize up. I have written about the fear before, and it belies my age by about three decades! But I promised myself when I started this blog that I would not excessively compliment my parents in order to sugar-coat some of the challenges. None of my blogs are the whole story so please do not assume anything about my relationship with my family from reading a few blog posts.

Friendship, goodbyes & holidays: adoption triggers part two

Even adoptees who have only ever lived with one family can struggle with attachment on a day-to-day basis, or when a big life event occurs...

Thinking about the situations in which I struggled as a child, and sometimes still struggle with now, it's clear to see I have some issues with attachment. It's a relief to know there's a reason behind it all, but it was never noticed and/or acknowledged, much less supported as a child. I am from the "blank slate" era where what a baby didn't know couldn't hurt them.

I'm skipping straight to F, G and H for this next instalment of events and situations that I, as an adoptee, have struggled with. I wonder if some of these resonate with you?

Friendship

When I was eight I made my best friend join an official club stating we were each other’s best friends. We had a badge, a motto and a password. So far, so normal. Only my friend was forbidden to have any other friends. Let's just say it didn't end well. If I'm honest, I still struggle to “share” friends now, although I’m a lot better than I was!

As you can imagine, now I’m a parent, being at the school gates everyday is a big reminder of my anxiety around making (and keeping) friends. My main goal is to avoid projecting any of this on to my children. As Monica from Friends would say, "I'm breezy!" Wish me luck with this.

The perfect Monica Friends Breezy Animated GIF for your conversation. Discover and Share the best GIFs on Tenor.

Goodbyes

No surprise that I have separation anxiety and a deep-seated fear of rejection. Three of my close friends live abroad and it’s fair to say I didn’t take the news well when they left. My reaction to being told someone I love is leaving is somewhere between:

–      total shutdown where I feel cold all over and immediately and methodically set about cutting them out of my life, and

–      clinging on to their ankles like a tiny desperate terrier doing full-on dog weeping

In my more rational moments I have said to them, "I love you and I want you to be happy". But I still feel like beating my fists and shouting “How could you leave me?”

Holidays

Of course I have anxiety about travelling to and from my holiday destination and making sure I have all my bookings confirmed; I'm a 'perfect' compliant adoptee after all. This is a given for me, and I honestly can’t imagine a holiday without it. But the issue is more serious than that. My mind starts to spin when I think about the people I am leaving behind. How can I be sure I won't be forgotten and/or replaced while I am away? This feeling has faded a lot since I married and now have my own young family, but when I was younger it was debilitating.

I still shudder to remember my first time away from home at Girl Guide camp. I was so homesick and subconsciously may have been reliving my early abandonment. In a town far from home I hallucinated I saw my mum and I started following her down the street. Never did it cross my mind to tell the Guide leader I was struggling, and ask her to call my mum for me. Never did it occur that I could ask to go home.

And when I started going on holiday in my teens, I was the sad sack queuing for the resort payphone on my one-week holiday clutching ten-pence pieces in my sweaty hand. While backpacking in my 20s I wrote, addressed, stamped and posted 20 birthday cards before I went. I chose to sit in horrible internet cafes emailing home rather than experiencing the new countries, cultures and people. I struggle so much with being in the moment on holiday, so it’s no surprise that mindfulness has been a tough concept to get on board with! (I do heartily recommend trying it though.)

Let me know if you've experienced any of these attachment-related issues. You can comment below or contact me. It helps to know we are not alone, and as I heard on the Adoptees On podcast recently: these are normal reactions to an abnormal situation. 

I've also blogged about my struggles with ageing, birthdays and Christmas.