DNA Diaries

I find myself screaming. Not screaming to the heavens, not screaming at people, but instead I feel like I'm screaming silently. I feel my body screaming, I feel it in my chest, I feel it in my throat, I feel it in the tenseness in my arms, legs and back. Every fiber of my being is screaming and yet I can't let it out. The screams won't escape my lips. It gets hard to swallow. Putting a pillow over my face, trying to let the scream out doesn't even work. It's there, but it won't come out. My mind wants me to scream, my body wants me to scream, I feel as though my body could actually relax if only I could release that scream. That silent scream that rings in my ears and torments my soul.




This was written by an adult adoptee. He has given me permission to re post it here. I feel as though these are very powerful words. This is what adoption feels like to him. Not that he had a bad adoption, that's not the point. The point is he isn't allowed to know anything about himself. Like so many others, he's adopted and his life, his history, his ancestry, is of no importance to him because someone else said so.




Then I found this.
http://www.growninmyheart.com/marijuana-makes-adoptive-parents-look-bad-yes-i-mean-you

How interesting that a president wants to hear what we think is important, and the most important issue we can come up with is legalizing marijuana?

The push to get records unsealed has been mostly by adoptees and first parents. For some reason adoptive parents don't feel the need. Why is that? Do you not love your adoptive child enough to want them to have the same civil rights as non adopted children? Did you get what you wanted and nothing else matters? I honestly do not understand. What these people, these "citizens" chose to do with this information is up to them. They can throw it in a drawer and leave it there if they choose. Point being is they deserve the right to throw it in the drawer.

Please read this well written article. Think about your life being the skip spot on the CD (another womans feeling about adoption) the silent screaming millions of people live with every day and tell me there is no better idea to put in front of your president than legalizing marijuana.

There is a link to change.org within the story. Please sign today.

So you have read some of my highs and lows with my bio dad. I have to admit he is making an effort, I wish I could say I trust it, but I'm not there yet.

On one of his phone calls to me he told the story of a friend he had not seen in years. This friend knew nothing of me, like the rest of the free world, but Jim was excited to tell him. He told him about out first phone call, our first face to face meeting and a few other stories. His friend was very happy for him and in his excitment asked Jim what his daughters name was....innocent enough. Right? Not for my enigma of a father. He told me he could just stare at his friend because he only knew my first name. He realized that he had NEVER taken the time to even ask my full name. He was ashamed of himself. And to be honest, he should be. It's been 2 years and he had no idea what my last name was, let alone my middle.
I told him. Even gave him my maiden name in case he cared. I took it lightheartedly, I really did. In fact, he took it harder than I did. I knew he didn't know-but he didn't. It never crossed his mind.

This put right in his face how little time and energy he had given. I didn't need to tell him any more. No more begging for any tidbit of info he was willing to give. He thought he was being so honest and open with me, but he proved to himself what a diluted relationship we have.

I think this put a whole new perspective on our relationship. He always insisted that things between us were 'fine'. But standing there, facing a man he had known most of his life, admitting he had no idea what his daughter's name was, well, it makes you stop and think. Can you imagine what that man thought? What doubts about Jim as a person must have shown in his face?
Whatever epiphany came from that, Jim is more willing now to put me in his life. Like in my last post, I still question how this will all turn out, but at least I have hope. Which is more than I have had in the past year or so.

But at least he knows my name. Not much, but it's a start I guess.

I'm slow in my old age. I search for days some times for the right words that give me the most affect, and I eventually come up with them. This time is no exception other than it has taken a lot longer than a few days to find the right words.



I get on Yahoo Answers, in the adoption section waiting for women to post questions about surrendering their children. I point out many different things that surrendering women are not told about. The pain of being separated, the sealing of records, etc...



I just realized that signing away my own rights also meant signing away my daughters rights. I mean, I have heard it said, but it just didn't sink in. My signature meant "her"signature. How is it I didn't know that till now?

When parents sign away "their rights" they are also signing away the rights of the child. Those children will have less rights than non adoptees and it will not change until the law does.



I intent to use this true and accurate line from now on as it rings loudly about what adoption really does do.



Maybe it will have a more dramatic effect, maybe non adoptee's will understand better, instead of insisting I'm bitter and angry because I made a decision I don't want to live with or one I want to play victim over. I don't want to take back my decision, its too late, and I have always taken responsibility for what I did. But it never sunk in till just recently that by any parent putting their own signature on the dotted line, they are also putting their child's name on the dotted line. You as a parent no longer have a right to that child and that child no longer has a right to themselves.

As a parent you have rendered your child powerless over their own affairs, made them property of someone else, and branded them with second class citizenship. A stigma that is alive and well in the 21st Century as proven by the 44 states that remain sealed, and the ever growing fight to open records for all adopted citizens.

That is not to say that these children will not get good homes. (disclaimer) In fact this isn't about their homes at all. This is about them having the same rights to their records as anyone born and not adopted. I was about to say surrendered there, but that's not true. Surrendered does not mean adopted. They are two very different things and should be noted for their differences.

Upon surrender these children are not yet adopted. If an adoption doesn't go through or a disruption takes place (return the merchandise) the original records are kept in tact. IF an adoption does go through, the records are sealed, and often falsified to show the purchaser as the birther (adoptive parent as the natural parent). Those records have been and will continue to be sealed for 100 years. The good news if you happen to be one of those who does live that long, you can have access to your records then.

I'm still not against adoption. I know it sounds like I am, but I'm not. I'm against the crap laws that protect people from themselves, and how easily someone can put another in that position. There really aren't' too many adoptee's out there who agreed to having their records sealed. It's just something they have to live with because someone else put their own signature on a piece of paper.

I was at work just the other day, laughing with a friend about old 'Peanuts' episodes. We talked about the specials they came out with for the holidays and such and giggled at ourselves about how we waited all year to see those. It was a light conversation and very enjoyable. I told her that as a child I was not one to cry. But I clearly remember one thing that was GUARANTEED to make me sob hysterically and unconsolably. The Peanuts show called "Snoopy Come Home".

I told her how it was horrible for me, but I wait every year for that one show to air. My sister also remembered and had actually spoken over the years about my violent physical reaction to watching this, every single year. I was literally a blubbering mess, tears and snot, incoherant mumbles and jarring uncontrolable sobs that took HOURS to subside. Once about 2 years ago my sister was telling the story and said "this one here (pointing to me) NEVER cried. You could damn near lop her arm off and she wouldn't cry, but let Snoopy Come Home play-and she was bawling"

I found amusment in the fact that she remembered that about me. I felt slightly embarassed that a childs show was able to have such an effect on me. And I passed it off as silly kid antics.
Until now. Until just a few days ago. Thats when I had an adoptee epiphany. One that now explains so much about me. Who ever would have thunk that Snoopy would be the one to open such a huge floodgate for a 37 year old woman?

The episode is about Snoopy and his former owner at the puppy mill. She had fallen ill and needed him to 'come home'. He packed his little hobo pack with food dish nestled inside and said a hard goodbye to dear ol' Charlie Brown. Charlie was confused, worried and hurt. He wanted to know if he was coming back, why he was leaving him, what did he have to do to make Snoopy stay.
But Snoopy, in a strong bold move of unadulterated loyalness, said goodbye and set off on his journey to his former owner.
He sat at her bedside, nurtured her, loved her, tended to her needs and showered her in laughter and companionship. Then the time came, he had to choose. Charlie Brown and his family or the little girl that he used to belong to. He loved them both so desperately. He did not want to hurt either of them. He was confused and torn.

And I totally FELT that. No matter how many years passed or how many times I saw that same show, I still felt that pain and confusion for Snoopy. It was like it was me.

I never understood before. But now I do. IT WAS ME. That cartoon beagle was me!!!

Now the re-coup time of viewing this show was a couple days. It literally drained me of everything I had. We as a family passed it off as flu/cold, as all kids get. No big deal, but now, I'm convinced it was more. I had a mental meltdown everytime that show played and I was rebounding.

One more thing that I remembered that had long since been forgotten, was that I don't ever remember Mom and Dad being there to watch it with me. I was always with my older sister. That was an evening they seemed to have plans. And I don't think it was a coincidence. I truly believe they couldn't stand to see me like that, they didn't have the words to make it better. No amount of hugs and soothing was ever enough. And I think that they felt utterly helpless and possibly worthless. I can only imagine what went through their minds at this time. I'm now a parent, and if I saw my child have such a reaction to something, I don't know I could handle it either.

How is it that a cartoon can so easily and accurately capture the emotions of adopton? How could it take me decades to figure out that was why I reacted the way I did? It should have been obvious to me, but it wasn't.

Snoopy brought me to my own feelings, something no one on earth was able to do-and I didn't even know it was happening. I have to stop here, I can feel the same old emotions creeping in.