
It’s always been there. It’s like a shadow, always following me. I don’t think about it all the time, but when things get quiet, it comes to the front of my mind. It’s my adoption.
When I was growing up, I was told that it was of no consequence. Just a different way of forming a family. Nothing to even think or talk about, because it was just so normal.
If it bothered me, well that was my fault, because see above, just so normal.
That was how it was. I rarely spoke of it. I didn’t know what to think of it. I tried to believe what I was told. When you’re very young, you don’t know that adults can be wrong. You believe everything they say.
Dealing with the suppression of my reality was exhausting. No one seemed to notice or care that I was struggling. Maybe I just hid it well. I know my adoptive parents did not want to hear about it. No one did.
Not that it’s much different today. Most people don’t want to hear that adoption causes pain. They don’t want to know what it does to people. People prefer the happy story.
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