The Pathetic Adopted Child Within the Self
Pretending to be someone, anyone in the world, other than myself.....
"Adopted Child's Role" My Plight as Adopted.
Acting, pretending, Faking It, and Being Compliant, Agreeable, and Submissive Adopted child.
Wanting to hide from being adopted,
Never letting on to being that disgusting, unwanted, rejected, repulsive bastard child that was given up, given away and abandoned for adoption.
"I don't want anyone to know about my humiliation in being an adopted child" Please don't tell anyone!
I am too ashamed of my embarrassing truth!
If I am good, will you keep this a secret? Please don't tell anyone that I am adopted, I am Begging You!
But that bastard adopted child is what the adoptive mother wants, what she needs and what she desires to tell everyone. That she us a savior of unwanted children. My adoptive mother wants everyone to know that I do not belong to her genetically. That I am a breed apart from her sons and family. That she did not bear me, is not responsible for my flawed, awkward, and unnatural nature. My adoptive mother is repulsed by me and expresses this public fact without words everyday of my childhood. I am too tall, too skinny, walk too fast and eat too little. Criticism is our only one way communication of which she dominates. The adoptive father always refers to me as "her daughter" meaning not his and only belonging to the possession of the adoptive mother.
Growing up in these abnormal circumstances the only sure things were punishment, humiliation and the silent treatment. I am the family's scapegoat and fall girl of shame and charity. I am the adoptive family's pet and I am allowed to exist in this structure of shame. The adoptive mother reminds me that I am nothing outside of her approval and influence and do not exist without her consent and worth for the sake of appearances.
As an adult the constant reminders of my fear based relationship with my dominating adoptive mother haunt my dreams and waking hour triggers. I was raised to feel shame for being adopted and she would remind me of my submissive second class place in the world often by striking me in the face for a look, or what she perceived as attitude and defiance that I could manifest without speaking. Speaking in my early life was a big risk! What I said, how I said it or what the adoptive mother interpreted my childhood language as being disrespectful to her superiority. Although sometimes she would strike me just to remind me of where I belong, which was beneath her in social class, status and that she was my master and I am the submissive. When I reached the age of thirteen I began to have friends for the first time, and was exposed to normal people and role models and teachers that treated me with dignity. I began to develop a self that I concealed from my adoptive family. The compliant child Vs. the real self emerged where I began to have some dignity, some sense of self and the ability to think free of adoptive mother's influence. Without this taste for how normal people live, think and make choices I would be dead by my own hand. The experience of having friends and experiencing the feeling of being liked by people my own age was a lifesaving event of change. Yet the adoptive mother's brainwashing always pulls me back and falling into the pit of despair where I am worthless, a burden and can never do anything acceptable in the eyes of the adoptive mother, that renders me hopeless to myself is the ever present misery that she provokes within me. As she does not want me to live or be happy, she wants me to suffer and be the disappointment that I am only to her.
Yet we are not saved from ourselves, and no one saves us from the plight that exists in us.
When I have escaped from my adopted child role, I am free, I am happy and I want to live by savoring the moments in my life. I cultivate my roses, feel love for my animals and share love with them. I taste delicious flavors when I eat so very slowly and I live grateful in the moments as I appreciate life of what I am so thankful for.
When I am pulled back in to that horrible adopted child role, the only role the adoptive family can view me as, I can't breath, I want to die and I do not want to live another moment as that stupid adopted child, that I loathe so desperately.
The only way for me to survive is to escape my adoption's consequences of abuse, although it exists as a cancer to my body, I can live far away as a different person...on the outside looking back at a pathetic situation that no community member gives a dam that one of their own was suffering as a prisoner. Nobody cared, nobody intervened and nobody came to that stupid pathetic adopted child's rescue. The adopted child within me, that I have tried to kill nine times, is emotionally silent and dead to me. It is the only way that I can survive each day, is not to let the adopted child live inside me. Although in her pathetic existence she was silenced, lived in perpetual fear of punishment and had no one that loved or adored her, she must remain without a voice without justice and without anyone that cared for her
pathetic existence. She is a ghost of my past that I work to vindicate by writing about her suffering and her humiliations existing as a forever adopted child.