About Adoptee Rage

Statistics Identify large populations of Adoptees in prisons, mental hospitals and committed suicide.
Fifty years of scientific studies on child adoption resulting in psychological harm to the child and
poor outcomes for a child's future.
Medical and psychological attempts to heal the broken bonds of adoption, promote reunions of biological parents and adult children. The other half of attempting to repair a severed Identity is counselling therapy to rebuild the self.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

When All Hope Is Lost-An Adoptee's Questioning Existentialism


When All Hope Is Lost In Everyday Life

Adoptee's live on the edge everyday, where there is no comfort, connection or calm.
We cling to the retched, the throw-away people, like us that were given up on. Those who were discarded by their lovers, partners, family's and brothers, and those of us given up on- that no one else wants. 
We grasp and hold on tightly to the despair that unites us with another outcast and live in the shadows of other people's lives. The idea of structure, routine and normal expectation is replaced by the waiting for the commencement of the draw of first blood, as we can only go into action because we are provoked. Adoptees only know how to survive, to live in this moment for we have no concept of tomorrow or a future as we have no past, no roots to ground us to our chain of humanity. We serve our purpose out and when they no longer have a use for us we are lost. As we never had a starting point or a history, just a temporary duty to fulfill and enrich the lives of others that were temporarily in need. Adoptee's have no needs, our possessions never belonged to us in the first place, As we are the possessions of others and when they are through and our faces warn from life we fade into the past of memories that others would rather forget. The bridges in life are burdened by our presence are burned by our crossing, as we were never seen as permanent beings in the lives of others. The lives of adoptees that go on unfulfilled grow stale with age and time.
The lines on my face reflect each heart brake, each brake up and each humiliation endured as experiencing life of which we find no answers, only more unanswered questions to the complexity of our existence. I ask myself "Is there any purpose" will I ever know who I am? and wonder why the rocky roads always make my feet bleed. Maybe it is the only evidence in this life of an abandoned-adopted child that they lived and died for some purpose that only god may know for what purpose.