The isolated Life of an Adoptee
There is no antidote for the loneliness we adoptee's perceive in our existence, as we were conditioned at birth to be alone in the world, the consequence from being born for the purpose of being adopted out to be estranged from our heritage.
The adopted childhood bears the harsh reality of being forever abandoned by their kin, with no real understanding or hope in childhood to seek an end to the isolation or answer to the problem of existing as a stranger that will adapt yet never fit in this foreign community.
Adopted children are like living ghosts, the reminder of a terrible time that most prefer not to remember,
yet the adopted child is the living proof of such unspeakable secrets. Finding out who you are late in life does little to undo the psychological pain, suffering, harm and injuries that have been repeatedly assaulting upon the adoptee.
In true retrospect, I would have been better off aborted before I took my first painful breath of this life, that never has belonged to me. I began a bastard child, legally abandoned by my mother and given to a grieving adoptive mother who lost her biological child at birth, as a constellation prize, an insult to her mortal injury, I existed where I was not wanted or welcome. I survived several attempts to relieve the adoptive family of my presence, and their outward deliberate attempts to rid themselves of me.
I jumped at any chance to escape my adoptive servitude, clung on to those that did not want me and waited in vain for a rescue that never came. I became the property of men and discarded in disappointment as I did not possess the maturity beyond sexual skills to keep a relationship. I have never experienced a healthy relationship in my life, but have managed to destroy anything that I did come to temporarily possess.
People like me are a dime a dozen, a strain on the social dynamics of every type of economic system, we do not contribute, only take in the sport of survival. There is no living in survival, only counting the hours and minutes in between life altering events. As an old woman of 45 I see only my path of destruction, nothing I have created is worth while.
I was the property of my adoptive parents until my title was transferred to the next husband, never was my title owned by myself. I have never been in charge of my own destiny, only the circumstances from poor and immature decisions based in poverty and survival is what constitutes my existence as a drain on society, and not a contributor. My adoption has ruined both my mother and father's lives, my forced intrusion into my adoptive family has created consequences of their own, a failed investment in time and money to say the least.