Unvisited
No message from the telephone.
No telegrams while I was home.
No mail came though I checked the box.
No cryptic secrets were unlocked.
No headline in the daily news.
No printed words to lend me clues.
No response to questions asked,
as weeks, and months, and years drift past.
Still waiting for a sign or word,
the time my voiceless pleas are heard.
But only silence resounds instead.
Another day, unvisited.
I survived the adoptee birthday this year fairly well after dealing with the fourth adoption court petition denial for identifying information from my biological parents. Instead of a lot of angst and turmoil there was only mild depression. A depression that is always there and pokes it head out at the usual Holiday periods and observations and life triggers.
I just heard it put that depression is like the fear that the sun won't rise. Well stated but I'll go a little further. For me the depression from being adopted and being rejected twice is like knowing the sun will rise and shine on everyone but me. It might sound a little extreme but that's how I feel.
It's not about not being alone I can do that just fine. I've been a wife a great portion of my life and a mother for nearly 30 years. Alone time I crave and yes probably because of being left out of two families it became my norm. And what wife and mother doesn't enjoy the simple sound of silence for a period of time. The type of silence I am talking about is deafeningly loud.
Cosmically alone in the universe detached from family is a different type of alone animal. It's also the belief that someone you caused and were responsible for it. What person wouldn't question why they were given away by their own family? I've finally arrived at the knowledge that it is not my fault but I spent far too many years believing that it was so and not just of my own creation either. Knowing it's not my fault doesn't really make me feel much better. I am still the odd person out in two families. I hate admitting this weakness and vulnerability but I am still looking for that kind of love and connection in my life.
I now know how to cope and deal with most of it, writing being one of them, but I shouldn't HAVE to grieve the loss of my biological name and knowledge of my original family forever. Not knowing where you came from and the search for self is an unending journey for many adoptees.. Being a wife and mother is fulfilling, but it does not complete or fill the gaps left in the fabric of my soul.
“If you don't receive love from the ones who are meant to love you, you will never stop looking for it.”
― Robert Goolrick, The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life
No message from the telephone.
No telegrams while I was home.
No mail came though I checked the box.
No cryptic secrets were unlocked.
No headline in the daily news.
No printed words to lend me clues.
No response to questions asked,
as weeks, and months, and years drift past.
Still waiting for a sign or word,
the time my voiceless pleas are heard.
But only silence resounds instead.
Another day, unvisited.
I survived the adoptee birthday this year fairly well after dealing with the fourth adoption court petition denial for identifying information from my biological parents. Instead of a lot of angst and turmoil there was only mild depression. A depression that is always there and pokes it head out at the usual Holiday periods and observations and life triggers.
I just heard it put that depression is like the fear that the sun won't rise. Well stated but I'll go a little further. For me the depression from being adopted and being rejected twice is like knowing the sun will rise and shine on everyone but me. It might sound a little extreme but that's how I feel.
It's not about not being alone I can do that just fine. I've been a wife a great portion of my life and a mother for nearly 30 years. Alone time I crave and yes probably because of being left out of two families it became my norm. And what wife and mother doesn't enjoy the simple sound of silence for a period of time. The type of silence I am talking about is deafeningly loud.
Cosmically alone in the universe detached from family is a different type of alone animal. It's also the belief that someone you caused and were responsible for it. What person wouldn't question why they were given away by their own family? I've finally arrived at the knowledge that it is not my fault but I spent far too many years believing that it was so and not just of my own creation either. Knowing it's not my fault doesn't really make me feel much better. I am still the odd person out in two families. I hate admitting this weakness and vulnerability but I am still looking for that kind of love and connection in my life.
I now know how to cope and deal with most of it, writing being one of them, but I shouldn't HAVE to grieve the loss of my biological name and knowledge of my original family forever. Not knowing where you came from and the search for self is an unending journey for many adoptees.. Being a wife and mother is fulfilling, but it does not complete or fill the gaps left in the fabric of my soul.
“If you don't receive love from the ones who are meant to love you, you will never stop looking for it.”
― Robert Goolrick, The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life
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