I never expected it to end like this… Part 1 of My Adoption Story
The following is an adoption story article was written by an anonymous writer. Names of individuals are not provided in this article, and some information in the article might have changed to protect the identity of those involved. This article is written under the first amendment rights of Freedom of Speech. For additional information under the First Amendments Rights, please see the statues, rules, and regulations.
I didn’t expect it to end like this. I always thought they would be somewhere on my immediate list of friends and relatives. I really didn’t think it would end like this.
I woke up today needing to heal…. by writing my story down, I feel like I can heal. I had a dream about them last night and had an urge to share my story. My hope isn’t by the end of this post, I can start the healing process.
I was born to two unwed parents. My father was an angry alcoholic and my birth mother was a substance abuser who was medicating a severe mental condition. My father had dyslexia and ADHD and ADD, and my mother was a severe schizophrenic. Both were substance abusers. My father was an alcoholic and my birth mother used a multitude of illegal drugs.
I wasn’t raised by them. After the first 6 weeks, they couldn’t handle or care for me. My birth mother put me up for adoption with the Sisters of Providence. My grandmother and grandfather didn’t want me raised by strangers, so they took it upon themselves to get me and legally take guardianship of me. It took a year and a half to receive full guardianship of me. My birth mother fought them, however she wasn’t able to care for me.
My Grandfather died 11 days after the court awarded guardianship of me, and a few days after I was baptized Catholic.
My grandmother was stuck raising me and often reminded me that she never wanted me. That does wonders for the brain of a small child… I was never wanted. It still affects me as an adult. Because of being told that, I don’t trust anyone. It took 7 years to trust my husband, and I still prove I have issues trusting.
My Relationship With My Grandmother
As I got older, I grew closer to my grandmother.
The rest of the family, (her other son and his family) grew further away. Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter used to be huge family gatherings, that turned into doing nothing… and my grandmother weeping for hours for her other son and family hating her. I don’t remember a true family gathering after I was 10 years old. This went on for years, up until I was 18 years old.
Putting up the Christmas tree was awful in the house… it always ended up with me crying and begging to put it up just for me. Thanksgiving and Easter were just another days in our house. Which is probably why these holidays are so important to me now.
I would often find my grandmother sobbing in her chair. She would sob over the stress of having a son who was a recovering alcoholic abuser, who got into a car accident which made his life difficult. She would cry over the loss of her older son who stopped talking to her for reasons still unknown today. Things became very hard for her – she was raising another child, caring for her disabled son, and had no help. She did the best she could. She wasn’t my grandmother; she really was my Mom.
One of the hardest things, in my opinion, my family had a hard time understanding is the relationship I had with my Grandmother. I believe they looked at me as strictly a grandchild being raised by the Grandmother. I often felt like when I turned 18 I should move out and leave the family… and never look back. What they did not realize was my relationship with her was a mother and daughter relationship. What they did not see was where they went wrong….
I watched my Grandmother sob. I watched my drunk father come into the house and yell uncontrollably at my grandmother because he spent all of his social security money half way through the month and had nothing left. I witnessed him throwing things, including my favorite porcelain doll and smashed it into pieces. Life was not easy, but I got through it.
I married young. I felt like I had too, so I wouldn’t be a burden to my Grandmother any longer. Maybe I would make my other family members happier: Maybe they would like me because I was no longer under my grandmother’s roof? They would talk to me… sometimes. However, if I made a mistake, they were always the first to point it out. I WAS the black sheep of the family…. the one who couldn’t do anything right in their eyes.
I made a few mistakes… yes. I married too young. The marriage didn’t last. It didn’t work. I tried, however it didn’t work. I left my ex husband when our daughter was 3 months old, and moved back in with my grandmother. She was born during a very bad economic time. I did my best to make money to pay for things for her. I worked many part time jobs at home and at church to make ends meet. I couldn’t afford child care, nor was I qualified for it because I made too much from the child support I rarely got back then.
A relative of mine had made a comment on Facebook that I felt was negative towards someone. I made a comment back defending the person… and apparently I was wrong. My cousin messaged me saying negative things. It was apparent he did not like me, and felt I was something I wasn’t. He talked about having to pay for his son’s college while I didn’t have too. He also mentioned that he could not afford a smart phone, and questioned why I had one while I wasn’t working full time. This is the same cousin who never spent time with me, nor did he know who I actually was. He assumed things about me. When my grandmother died, I was in charge of planning her funeral. I sent this cousin a thank you card for serving as a barrier. He sent this card back, along with her memorial card cut up into small little pieces.
I paid (and still do) for my education. I earned a Bachelor’s degree, a Master’s Degree, and currently earned and working towards my Doctoral Degree. Further, the smart phone he commented on was paid for my then employer. I was a web designer for a company who reimbursed me for the smart phone expenses. I think when I look at all the facts and details, this cousin was jealous of my relationship. He had no reason to care about my situation; it was none of his business, and still isn’t. The cut up card I received back from him shows what kind of person he is, and thankful that I am not subject to his negativity any longer. I forgive him, and have moved on.
All of my immediate family members have blocked my on Facebook and other social media. It is their loss. I am not the person they made me out to be. I have forgiven them full heartily. It is time to move on from the jealous behavior.
I did learn to “let go, let God”.