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[quote=Anonymous][quote=Anonymous]I was adopted by people who, for reasons I still don't totally understand, rejected me. I love them, I've known no other parents but them, and unfortunately, their rejection holds the ability to hurt me for the rest of my life. I remember feeling loved for a few short years, maybe until I was 5 or so. For the remainder of my childhood, I had no conscious understanding of being rejected. In hindsight, it was clear I was not what they wanted or expected, and that my adoptive mother, in particular, resented everything that had to do with me and the other child she adopted a few years before me—my sibling by adoption, but not by blood.

By age 10, I became despondent and suicidal. The first 10 years of my life, I was the model child:  intelligent, well-behaved, talented, easy going, academically gifted. The next 7 years I spent validating my mother's dislike of me. And ultimately, I internalized her view, believing I was broken, ungrateful, and in need of repair. Thankfully, I was able to get away to college by 17, and never moved back home full time. In my second year, I took an apartment off campus, and so began my adult life. I visited my parents occasionally, and seemed to be chasing after their attention and approval. My calls home usually went unreturned for days, sometimes my birthday was forgotten, and I continued to try to toughen up, and seek love elsewhere. Fortunately, I met my husband not long after college, and have been blessed with an amazing marriage and two incredible children of my own. Sadly, my adopted sibling has not been able to find happiness in adulthood, and lives a marginal existence of homelessness, unemployment, and violent tendencies, though my sibling, also, was blessed with intelligence and charm. Said sibling cannot sustain functional behaviors for extended periods of time.

My outcast status is complete within my adoptive family. Occasionally, I learn of a death, or a wedding, or a child being born, usually by googling family names, and stumbling across an obituary that mentions survivors, spouses, and grandchildren. I spent my childhood being the bastard at the family reunion, only I was oblivious to that reality. In hindsight, I've been able to figure this out. I now have my own family, I am loved, and I have a place where I belong. I wish I could turn off the love I have for my parents, but it remains a thorn in my side. I am sorry they could never know the joys of loving the children they "raised."  (Sibling and I were left to our own devices so much of the time, I barely survived childhood.) I am stung by the easily flowing love and affection my mother has for her biological family. She admitted to me in adulthood that she always considered me to be damaged goods. I am sad that my kids have only one set of grandparents, but grateful that they are shielded from the toxicity that I grew up with.

For some reason, topics on adoption seem to usually focus on the adoptive parents or the biological parents, but not on the kids. I thought my story might be of some relevance.  Lastly, I did find my biological mother many years ago; she told me to never contact her again.[/quote]

Thanks for sharing. I'm sorry for what you had to endure and happy for you that you found the love you deserve.[/quote]

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