We Are The Ugly Ducklings

But there is one aspect of identity which will never be properly resolved.I look like no-one I know…not even me. Because who is “me”?

The Maternal Narcissist

How it became an obsession to become a mother, a perfect mother at any cost. But how no matter how hard she tried, she failed.

The Primal Wound by Nancy Verrier

For those adoptees who lose their mother before the separation of the self occurs, they will manifest a primal wound. A deep and lasting impact.

Passenger Seat

I recoiled at her touch and thought ‘I don’t want to put cream on them. I want them to stay there so you see every day how ugly you made me.’

Desired Things

The gift of being able to feel your emotions is therefore the gift of survival. Emotions are signals from our bodies which help us devise strategies which we believe will help us survive. But in order to survive–and thrive–we need to be able to feel all of them. That’s what they are there for.

Letter to My Estranged Mother (Part 1)

I discovered last week that you read my blog. This blog! Although my initial reaction was one of fear, after 5 seconds I started laughing at what I imagine your reaction to be when you read about my not-so-private sex life out there on the web.

Letter to My Estranged Mother (Part 2)

We have each claimed our respective subjective realities to be ‘the’ one and only truth over the years, but as it turns out there is no one and only truth. We can’t change our realities, only accept that my experience is true for me as your experience is true for you. I am not trying to make you wrong. But nor will I undermine my own reality to make you right.

Questions You Never Wanted to Ask

I knew that my father had tried to divorce my mother a year before they adopted me. I knew that I was ‘her project’. I knew that he was never around.

The Bouncer

The guilt of who I am, what I have done is so shameful that I cannot face the pain. There is no point in holding someone who is shattered and worthless.

I Called It Love

But it wasn’t about love, it was about power. About how far I would be willing to go. About how much abuse I might be prepared to accept.

The Last Fight

I don’t know whether the roaring was in my head or from his throat, but it felt like I had gone mad.

Being A Shapeshifter

The desire to change beckons. The voice tickles and taunts as it invites me out to play and it says… time to change, time to have fun, why so serious?

Family Is What You Make It

My family was not one I was born to, it was one I made and continue to make on a daily basis. My family is a group of people who I trust and whose support I use to empower myself to grow in this world. I have relatives of course, but they are not who I consider my family.

Not My Real Mother

Secrecy was the best choice. But being adopted whilst outwardly respectable, was only another word for disgraced bastard. And everyone knew it, even if they didn’t say it.

The Rapist in the Mirror

But what of the men who were genetic fathers to these lost children? Male privilege absolved them of personal responsibility.