I'm adopted. There I've said it. That's who I am and what I am. It defines me. In my home, adoption was not to be discussed. In fact, my adoptive father, God rest his soul, didn't want me to know I was adopted so he cut the ankle band from my leg and threw it into a fire. Most parents save those kinds of mementoes. Everything about me may have been contained on that one piece of paper encased in plastic and attached to me after my birth. All of the information about my birth mother may have been within my reach but was destroyed by a fire in a wood burning stove. Who needs a fire in the month of May? Or was the fire started purposely as a means to get rid of information?
Instead, I've spent the last 41 years, countless hours and thousands of dollars searching and researching my biology... to no avail. Now don't get me wrong, I love my adoptive parents and appreciate the fact that they allowed me to know what a family was all about. But what I needed more than anything was to know ME. I'm glad open adoptions are available now. Every adoptee has a right to know where they came from.
Perhaps speaking about my feelings in this format will allow me to learn more about myself. Discovering me has become more important than finding out about my biology although the two go hand in hand. I don't want anyone reading this to think I'm against adoption or adoptive parents; I'm not. I want to explore the feelings adoption brings. Maybe there are adoptees out there who want to share their feelings or adoptive parents who can add their thoughts or maybe, just maybe, there are potential adoptive parents out there that need to hear about the different feelings and emotions adoptees experience.
Thanks for joining me on this journey. I know I'm just a Sleigh Ride away from finding ME!
