Guest Blog Post by Angela Sparklesplenty -- I Need People
I’m nearly 53 and should be grateful and over it if I was working it right – isn’t that the message? Bring on the shame….
Being unwanted, relinquished, fostered, relinquished and then adopted is not part of God’s original plan for family life. If it was, we would all know about it. It’s a damage limitation response to unwanted or uncared for children and doesn’t happen in all cultures – thankfully.
It’s the waiting at school feeling when the parent shows up late and the child begins to panic, only if you’re ‘blessed’ to be adopted, the nightmare comes true and they really don’t come back, and you’re too small to tell anyone how scared you are and because you are too small the grown ups think it’s not affecting you. And of course there are those who will tell you it was ok for them, or they know someone where it didn’t affect them and in fact they are grateful their parents didn’t show up, as the new ones they got were so awesome. It is all possible.
I’ve had friends tell me how they wish they had been adopted – what I think they really mean is, “things at home were shit and I wish I could have got away from it and gone to people who were kinder/safer”. What they don’t figure is that adoption is not synonymous with ‘better’ – just ‘different’ and sometimes ‘worse’. I too wish I could have gone to kinder people – home perhaps?
So today was a car crash day where all the memories of that un-met waiting and hoping and yearning came tumbling back in and floored me - like a 10 tonne truck rolling back and forth until it has flattened every last bit of life out of the tin can.
“Oh that’s a bit melodramatic!” Mother might say, but I can assure you it isn't.
Just before lunch I was soberly considering how I could exit my life (I still am holding it as an option – but it is fading) – I was wondering how to sort my house and who to leave it to – who would want the contents? Esther, I thought you might and my friend’s son Ben might like the contents of my workbench area. I have no children of my own and that feels like a huge failing. It leaves me without a ‘reason’ to stay – I have no dependents. We are also surrounded by memes about family at the moment. It hasn’t helped.
The family I do have are pretty distant or dysfunctional, apart from one small boy, my nephew, who today I figured would actually be fine without me.
Most of the other family are in the US or Canada and therefore distant at best. I suggested talking to an older cousin on Zoom – he replied that he didn’t’ know how to do tech but instead made a song for me, recorded it and uploaded it to FB. In my head I made up he is lying and actually doesn’t really want to talk to me, so made a song to make it look like he cares – but from a distance. My heart wanted an embrace not a serenade. Maybe it’s about love languages? Does he really not video link with his grandkids? Anyway.
Today, I’ve been isolated for 14 days. I’m a teacher and kids I’d worked with had gone off sick so I was keeping my distance, as suggested. The first week was busy setting up from home and trying to get my head around new tech etc. I was in contact with my students as much as possible and I felt worthwhile as I reassured them and gave them, hopefully, meaningful tasks. Friends were sweet too in checking up on me as I had a cough, that didn’t go anywhere thankfully, and felt whacked out. Then the Easter holidays began and I was alone.
In the first week, one of my best friends had gone silent and I feared I had done something to piss him off. I tried to stay steady and not panic that he was leaving. I knew they were hitting hard times financially because of the implications of the virus and reminded myself it was probably that. He hadn’t asked how I was though and I missed his concern. I can often feel like I need others more than they need me. But I reassured myself that this one was ok – he was a good friend and I reminded myself of all the times he and his partner had helped me out – it worked, but only just. A week later he was in touch and we had a few normal exchanges. I was exhausted but relieved.
Part of my worry too came form the fact that I had recently been in relationship with a mutual friend and because it ended, it wasn’t possible for us all to hang out as a group anymore and I knew my friend was disappointed. I felt guilty for that and as was my conditioning, I fell easily into believing it was all my fault – that I had ruined things. It wasn’t and I hadn’t but I’ve worn that cloak so well, it’s hard to hang it up and leave it behind – it can feel like it is my role – the one I was born to. No gracias!
My closest family here is the brother I grew up with and we have a somewhat strained relationship. He grew up watching me getting the blame and being the one who was held responsible for the mood in the house and so is used to me chasing around taking care of others feelings and trying very hard to get things right. I don’t want that role anymore but shifting the balance often brings resistance and friction, and sometimes I just don’t have the energy to push or put in a new boundary. It’s a giving role for me and I usually make sure I only go there when I am strong enough. But I wanted to keep the contact going with my nephew over this time so have stayed even though it has been tough at times.. He (my brother) also has not asked how I am. Despite knowing I won’t get my needs met there, I can still look for connection when I am vulnerable.
So then I started to really believe I don’t belong and that I am bad/unworthy. I received that message loud and clear when my first family went to the trouble of leaving me on a different continent – who does that to their child? I was fostered for a few months and moved on again so internalized myself as being the problem that needed to be lost. On not so good days, I can agree and tell myself that it is my fault too before I forget to remind myself that it really wasn’t my fault. My parents got pregnant before they were ready and didn’t even think about how it would affect me. Mother was already drinking to cope, before I was born and Father was a poor communicator and managed his pain by gambling. And it really wasn’t my fault as an infant for hoping the foster mother would keep me. How was I to know she was only a temporary carer?
There were a series of other attempts to connect with people this week, hoping for some solace, which were mostly met with silence, forgetfulness and flaky behaviour. Silence = anger/rejection.
I know I wasn’t looking inside enough – being still - meditating, although I was trying to. Mother’s chant of me being awkward and difficult, resounded too loudly.
A day later and I know some of this struggle is normal - I NEED people. I was the kid who always ran downstairs when visitors came, anticipating the party. My brother in contrast would run upstairs to hide. I’m not a natural loner but struggle to be close – that’s the relinquishment/adoptee bit.
Earlier though, I had decided to reach out to an adoption group for help with a situation involving my Canadian brother – he is the only one I have contact with from my first mother’s family. He’s the flaky one though, like our mother, and promises love and missing but then often disappears before making a call. We had another attempted connection this week that didn’t materialize and I figured the other adoptees might get it and offer some wisdom or guidance on how to handle this or maybe even just a kind thought.
No reply – I checked the page and saw that 64 PEOPLE SAW THE POST AND NOT ONE PERSON RESPONDED. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
The weed tumbled by and I was left frozen. Was it what I wrote? Am I really that bad? How can I get them to like me – to respond? I stalled.
22 hours later, defeated, I took the post down and stopped following the page. It hurt too much to stay.
I was done and I knew needed to talk to someone who would get it. I had spoke to another friend but I was still wobbly. I was conscious my thinking was off and I know enough about this stuff that if you are actually planning your escape, that is the time to be concerned and start talking. So I finally reached out to another adoptee who’d previously said if I called, she would answer, and I believed her. I’m grateful to say, she showed up. I hope it wasn’t a one-time offer as I truly appreciate having a back up plan.
She encouraged me to write it out, so I did. She suggested others might feel the same – I hoped not, and I hoped so in equal measure.
She pointed out what a huge amount of time and energy this stuff takes up and what a waste that is.
She’s right. You see, as well as being a teacher, I am an artist and having free time to create is a gift. But I know I need to intersperse it with connection of some sort - maybe meditation? I shall try and see,
The problem is when I am alone, the darkness leans in too close and it makes it hard for me to enjoy the process, so I avoid it. Where I could be happily immersed in creative projects, I instead carry a tight stomach with a mind checking for danger and feeling the heavy cloud descend - again. Urghh…so I just keep running from it. The added frustration is that I know when other safe people are about, I can create endlessly – seriously – it’s like a tap opens and it flows - my internal world spies safety and I relax. I love it! That amazing peaceful feeling that now can seem so fleeting and also so dependent on others. It’s good to see that. And now what to do with it.
It needs to change. I need to be able to enjoy creating and having fun - even if on my own! That is my true birthright.
In the meantime, when this is over, I’m thinking of getting a dog; I really can’t do another Christmas like the last one. I certainly hope we are allowed out by then!
Ps. I saw a meme the other day: "Introverts, put your book down and check on your extrovert friends – they are not coping." It’s true – just being allowed out to the food shop today lifted my spirits. I really do need people.
Thanks Anne.
You can read more of Angela’s work here: https://angelasparklesplenty.weebly.com
