The mother’s experience of pregnancy, whether a happy or an unhappy one, wanted or unwanted, is also directly passed down to the foetus.
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.
Coraline will give her eyes, she will sacrifice her unique perspective on the world, and lose herself to her other mother’s vision of herself.
Maternal narcissism is not exclusive to adoptive scenarios, but maybe disproportionately more prevalent in the adoption triad.
It’s not what I know I’ve done. But what I don’t know I’ve done. Yawning black holes of nothingness taunt me with their awful possibilities.
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.
That you desire to earn money from writing out your paltry experiences is exploitative, unskilled and ultimately worth nothing. But of course you know all of this even as you try and cover it with swathes of denial.
The most useful tool I’ve discovered on our life journey is compassionate honesty. It heals so many wounds. This month has given me the chance to compassionately and honestly re-examine the relationship between my adopted Mother and I, to see whether the wound has healed between us. But my mother continues to want to play the game of ‘who-is-right-and-wrong’, and … Read More
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.
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.
Who would have guessed that the high achieving little girl who was–to all the outside world–a perfect privileged child, was so busy hating herself?
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.’