My mother gave me away. Logically, I understand why. She was married to someone other than my father. She was white, and he was black. It was the late 60’s in Detroit. I was given a better life than the one I could’ve had with her. I understand that.
My mind weighs it and the answer is an easy one. My heart weighs it and it is not so clear. My heart won’t let go of the first sentence. My mother gave me away.
I wrestled with writing this because I can’t tie a nice bow around it. I can’t end this blog with some great solution because I am still working through it.
Two years ago, I came across a show on talk radio. They were talking about adoption and the host mentioned that a lot of adoptees have issues with rejection. Naturally, being an adoptee I rejected what the host was saying.
Over the next few weeks I thought about this and realized this host may not be the quack I thought he was.
Rejection is my core issue and I have recognized other issues that are off shoots of this root problem. The biggest secondary issue I have is the feeling of not being worthy which stems from my feelings of being rejected.
The realization of this has really helped me explain some of the choices I have made and my reactions to situations. Now I understand why I shy away from working at relationships or why I can sabotage my best plans.
My issues are not uncommon from what other’s face. I do not sit in the corner rocking myself to sleep while I sing, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody knows the sorrow.”
Instead, now that I know the cause, I can work at changing the affect. So it means forcing myself to engage with people when I lean towards going off by myself. It means plugging my ears when the voices in my head tell me I don’t deserve something or things won’t work out for me.
My mother gave me away and I have lived an interesting and at times, charmed life. To think I wouldn’t have issues, which I did for most of my life, was a little naïve.