If you're not adopted, you will never understand.

Some thoughts.

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Even now, I hesitate to write this post. Why? I’m a grown woman; successful and accomplished. Healthy in mind, body and spirit. Funny, gracious and appreciative of my life.

And I’m also adopted.

I don’t like to write about it, even though I wrote my book, Home: Thoughts on Belonging about what it feels like to be adopted. I don’t like to think about it, though the fact doesn’t pain me the way it used to. For years, I never spoke of it — and yet it was the engine that drove me.

Being adopted is part of who I am — it’s how I chose to come to this planet — yet it has exacted a cost.

Before I dive in, I’d like to acknowledge adopted children and grown adults who exist in a family not biologically your own, in whatever context (adopted, sperm donor, half-siblings, etc). Some of you have found happiness and a sense of belonging in your adopted family. That’s great. Many of us have not. This is my story, so even if I say “we”, I certainly don’t speak for anyone else. Adopted people have a right to their own story, whether good, ill or somewhere in-between. I also know many people — clients, friends — who struggle with adopted kids who are now teenagers/young adults in the midst of a search for their identity. I’ll share what my parents did right — and where they screwed up — when it came to me and my adopted siblings.

For my full story — and to gain a deeper level of understanding about adoption, I encourage you to read my book Home: Notes on Belonging.

Adopted kids carry a separation from our adopted families, though we long to be at home.

This feeling is not exclusively in the realm of adopted kids but I didn’t feel as though I fit in my family, even with adopted siblings. I knew there was a difference — when I was a young child, I couldn’t put my finger on the reason why — but felt a hole in my heart around holidays/birthdays and often had panic attacks. It caused me physical pain to feel like an outsider and of course, I thought it was my fault. No one dissuaded me otherwise. I didn’t react the way my externalizer brother did through drugs/drink, dropping out of school and criminal charges. He constantly begged my parents for money — which was promptly spent on drugs — and they enabled him and ignored us. As long as we didn’t cause trouble, we’d be fine. We had the Bible! Church! We were fine. My other brother is basically on the spectrum and grew up during a time that ignored such things. I was a good girl, for the most part — with a deep and furious rage that would emerge later.

I was a sensitive, inquisitive kid who became an empathic adult — but I was broken inside from being adopted.

I didn’t know who to trust, so I ended up trusting people who betrayed or left me in the dust, unless I did it first. Sound familiar? So I stopped trusting anyone until I got into therapy and holistic health and began to heal my wounds. Full disclosure: I still struggle with trust and fear of abandonment.

Admitting such does not diminish my strength. We all are — or will be — forged by something.

Adopted kids like me were/are greatly misunderstood. We are troubled, not “troublemakers” and we are broken from being adopted.

I was born in the time of tragic closed adoptions, which meant that it was unlikely that I’d even meet or know my bio parents. Some states like NY had laws that expressly forbade any contact and made a difficult, humiliating and expensive court process to gain your bio information, even as an adult. I remember going to a group for adopted adults at a church in Manhattan and then wandering around Park Ave. after witnessing competent adults crying like children, knowing they could never get the info they so desperately wanted or had been rejected by their bio parents, again. I wandered, thinking I’m okay, I’m fine even though I was a total mess, broken-hearted and nearly suicidal in my mid-20s. What I knew then — and as a child — was that I’d walk around a half-person if I never knew the truth of my background.

Fortunately, I was not born in NY — and though suicidal, I also had the gift of an inner strength that superseded that choice. I was going to find my birthmother, even if she rejected me. One way or another, I had to find out the truth, even if the “adults” in my life would do their best to deny or reject my search.

It was my story, my background — and I had every right to it.

My parents — as emotionally immature as they were — did tell me I was adopted when I was 6-7. They said it in a way that made me feel special, like it was a great thing to be chosen and used Biblical references of the “covenant child”. My siblings were also adopted from different backgrounds, so we shared a similarity that prevented a biological rivalry — which is a very hard test on an adopted child. We struggled in other ways — but at least that was off the table.

Where my parent failed? They stopped any further conversation. It was like, Hey we told you but don’t mention it again, especially when you become a teenager. We don’t want to be reminded that we aren’t actually your bio parents. Too threatening, despite what it does to your psyche. We can’t deal — so you deal. Suck it up. You’re fine. Be grateful.

Huge fail — but like I said, they were limited and immature in their own traumas and insecurities. That didn’t stop my determination to find out who I was — so at 13, I went to my softer parent and asked with great trepidation about my background. Imagine being fearful to ask about my own background! She pulled a file from under their bed — as if waiting for this first moment of reckoning — and gave me the crumbs that they had. That started my yearslong search.

Adopted parents often prevent adopted kids/adults from knowing their story — or flat out lie.

There were many active and passive ways my parents discouraged me from discovering my background. There were certainly no ethnic celebrations! The one thing they didn’t do — and I thank them for this — is lie. I’ve heard many horror stories of parents who lied to their children and said they were biologically theirs and then on their deathbed or beyond, the child/adult found out the truth. My parents were Christian, so they didn’t actively lie — but passively avoided telling me that I came from a completely different biracial background, though I look similar to members of my family.

There will always be a day of reckoning with you and your adopted child. It may be denied, avoided or prevented — but it will come. Guaranteed.

If you have an adopted child, tell them the TRUTH, all of it, as young as possible. The whole truth and nothing but the truth — because they will either sniff it out or turn against themselves, which will emerge as self-harm or possibly suicide. Most certainly they will hate you down the road for lying to them, unless they are such an enlightened soul that they can forgive you (I wouldn’t hold your breath).

Tell the truth — and never stop telling it. If they have questions, answer them. If they ask you three hours later, stop, put down your damn phone and answer them, especially if they are smart and inquisitive. With patience, love and kindness.

If they ask you again and again and again, your job is to help them feel like they belong. Their job is not to quell your insecurity as a parent. Give them the info they seek and don’t dismiss them as too young or they can’t handle it. If you don’t have that level of maturity, get them immediately to a healer/therapist or spiritual teacher — and get yourself there, too.

Otherwise, you will regret it down the line. Trust me on that.

In case you wondered, I did find my bio mother. You can read more about the whole process — and outright rejection by my adopted parents — in Home.

You will never understand what it means to be adopted if you are not.

It is impossible for someone who is connected to their bio family line to understand what it is like to be adopted, regardless of whether you wish you were adopted or born from aliens. You will never know what it’s like to be taken from your mother at birth and transferred to a foster family for the first six weeks (me) or 6 months (my externalizer brother) before being transferred to another family. You will never know what it’s like to understand that you were a purchased baby. You will never know what it’s like to have no one who matches your face and body. You will never know what it’s like to never know your mother, father, grandparents or generational lineage. You will never know what it’s like to walk around with a hole in your heart during holidays and birthdays, despite your adopted family doing their best to make you feel special, which makes it even worse. You will never know what it’s like to have a parent who completely rejected your perfect innocence for no other reason that they didn’t want you (I understand that many bio kids experience this, too). You will never know what it’s like to fight a court system, pay thousands of dollars for your birth info and even then, possibly end up rejected. You will never know what it’s like to be told these are your family members, this is your new name, this is your religion, these are your siblings, this is your biological background, even though it’s all untrue. The truth is that we are strangers who are here to love and care for you — and we hope you feel the same about us. We will do our best to make you feel safe and loved. We think you are the best kid in the world and we are blessed and honored to have you.

Adopted kids are not obligated to love you, just because you adopted us.

My parents provided me with a home, great education, music/art/libraries and a solid moral base. I’m grateful for what they provided in the physical realm, despite the emotional and physical abuse I endured and do not forgive. Do I love them as my parents? No. Love cannot be demanded from an adopted child because we already know that we originate from somewhere else. Until we understand our background — or at least trust that our adopted parents have our back, no matter what — then we will walk around with questions that torment us. That doesn’t stop in adulthood. Add on sexual/physical/emotional trauma from dysfunctional adopted parents and one can only hope that an adopted kid won’t kill themselves, create more self-harm or traumatize others and their future family.

I’m basically estranged from my family now — but don’t consider them “family”. They are people with whom I spent my childhood and we share a history. That’s about it. I won't be convinced or guilted over names. I feel what I feel — and advocate for myself (Chiron in Aries). I care about my siblings and empathize with their deep struggles over being adopted. Unlike me, they did not meet their mothers, who are more than likely dead now — and I can see how it has tormented them over the years.

Adopted kids are your mirror. Can’t deal? That’s on you.

Sometimes adoptions work. Sometimes they don’t. That’s the real truth of adoption. The worse thing an adopted parent can do is reject their child all over again — abuse, emotional distance, saying we’re the problem, guilt us— because they can’t deal with the “lack of gratitude”. We are not a shelter pet — and even they deserve love and attention rather than being thrown back to the kennel because you can’t deal.

At times, adopted kids come for help in my dreams. They know I understand.

I’ve known several families who have adopted kids through various methods (adoption, sperm donation, etc) and at times, these kids show up in my dreams — like they’re arriving for a session (note: I don’t read anyone under 18 without their parent present — even in dreams!) A recent dream had me, an adopted teenage son and his biological mom hanging out in my externalizer brother’s old room. This dream was in my childhood home, the same one where my brother used to crawl out of the window and run away to the woods. During my dream, his mom silently observed behind me as her son said, I have no father, I have no father, I don’t belong because he knew I understood.

Oh, how I understand.

Yesterday, I thought about him and sent a telepathic message: You’ll have a great life someday. You just need to get through the next 2-3 years. This is the worst time. Don’t be stupid. Work a job, get a girlfriend and learn how to be a good boyfriend. Keep going to therapy. You’ll have a great girlfriend in your early 20s. You’ll marry her in your mid-20s. You’ll be a great father. A phenomenal dad. You’ll have 3 kids. You might still suffer from depression at times — but you’re going to have a great life. So much money! You’ll make your mom a grandmother in 10 years or so. Just get through.

This kid has come to me in dreams several times over the years for help and it always makes me laugh that his mom is present. I guess they were sure to read my website disclaimer!

The gifts of being adopted.

I’d argue that we are some of the strongest beings on the planet. If we can endure and find a way to thrive after being abandoned by a parent, then we are made of some stuff. I have a strength and wisdom that I attribute to my protective ancestors — whom I’ll never know in this life — and also the greater me who exists beyond this story. I love myself completely — took me decades to get there — and I trust myself 100%. I am free from family stories, including terrorizing health warnings (“you know your grandmother had that, so…”) and have zero guilt over skipping holidays and events that stress me out and with people I’d rather not see. It’s my life and my story — and I’ll do with it what I want. It may have been taken from me at first — but it’s fully mine now.

More than anything, I send love to adopted children, even as adults.

I love you — and I understand.