Wednesday, June 1, 2011
No one not adopted can understand how the rejection can and does affect you each and every day. Today I am home sick...again. The only thing I have ever been in trouble with at any job was absences. With all of my health issues all it takes is one little virus, a virus most people can handle and work through and throw off, and which can inflame the rest of the problems wrong with my body.
If I miss a day before or after a holiday I have to bring a doctors note. Well, I ride the bus so going to the doctor is an outside 2 hour ordeal getting to and from at least and not to mention right now I don't have the money to do so, until Friday payday...neither does my husband or he would give it to me. Doctors can really do nothing for me I need multiple specialists and testing first. I have to wait on health insurance to kick in and then pay the deductibles and premiums which will take weeks if not months. Time off from work is considered a weakness no matter what. It does not matter how much over time I work for them or how much I give really. It's all about stats and time and performance. A lot like being adopted.
Everyone thinks I am strong, intelligent, and capable. I am, true. My body is not. It never has been. It was weak and sickly at a young age. And what I've had to endure growing up ill is much more than even "regular" people can comprehend. Throw adoption into the mix and you have a "I don't want to be here" scenario brewing every day. These people at work are not really supportive they are supportive of company profits and success that makes THEM look better. I am a cog in the wheel. As I was in adoption.
Example: I was at work recently and the weather reports began to progressively worsen. My boss let me leave 1/2 an hour early and I know, as I always know, there is a chart of "gives" and "takes" at work being kept. Nothing comes for free. As I learned in adoption.
As I began to walk from work, and run to catch the bus as usual (one of two other connections I have to make to get home) the lightening began. I don't fear many things in life....severe lightening is not one of them. The tornado sirens begin to go off. I am scared, trembling actually. But, I calm my fears and reason with myself about stats of people hit by lightening or those that die in stormy weather. A nice older lady asks me as I wait under the cover at the gas station looking out for a bus siting if I am “ok”. Oh, if I only had the time to tell her. I say I am waiting on the bus and she leaves....all the while wishing she was the mother I never had. One who cared, and one who I could care for. And, wondering WHY in the hell life left me bereft of relatives. As adoption often does.
The tornado sirens begin again and I lose my cell phone signal and contact with anyone who can give me a weather report on what is going on where I am at. I can not call a cab now. Luckily, with my dollar store umbrella I see the bus coming and after a 1/2 an hour of hell waiting 20 yards from the tornado sirens I bolt for the bus. I reach the rail station only to be grasping for the button on the train to open the doors when it pulls away. There I am alone, cold, wet, scared and too friggin frightened standing at the dryest place I can find as the crackles of lightening bear down upon me. I locate the best place I can between the ticket machine and the over head cover post....and I break down and cry.
I swear had I have been swept away by the weather and have perished and could have come back to watch the bereavement in my afterlife role I would have heard my adoptive mother say “If she would have stood under the OTHER pillar” or “If she lived her life by the word of God the weather wouldn't have hit her" and my adoptive father would have said, par for the course, nothing. I will never measure up or be enough because I am not their child. It's pathetic their excuses for not taking any responsibility for loving their adopted children, it's still our fault we didn't turn out in the capacity they expected. And Capacity = exactly like them.
I would never have heard the things most parents say about the child they lost. But, I don't count because I'm not their child. I never really have been and I never will be. I am no one's child and....I hate being adopted.