Gift? That’s what I have been called on countless occasions. What’s a gift? Most people get things like clothes, jewelry, pets, cars, and other things. So that’s it? I’ve been equivocated to a puppy or a new pair of underwear. Great! I should be grateful. Well, that’s what you want to say to me right? Be grateful that someone took you in as their own. I guess I should be grateful that I wasn’t just tossed in a dumpster. It wouldn’t have changed anything had I survived. I would have still been rejected by my mother. The one person that I counted on had given me to total strangers that paid her hospital bill.
So no, I had been purchased and brought home to be raised a Warner. My heritage and ancestry erased and birth records falsified to state that my adoptive mother gave birth to me. I was now theirs and to forever be erased from my blood relatives. Or so they thought.
My mother and adoptive mother maintained contact for awhile after the transaction. My mother knew where to find me, my entire life. The fact that neither one ever felt that I should know is telling. I have been fed a bunch of bullshit my whole life and wasn’t even worthy of the truth. Keeping secrets feels safer but the truth will always find a way.
So no! I am not grateful and the more I have discovered, the madder I get.
You are not alone and I hear you. -- Scott
I am an adoptee that has discovered my roots and biological family, thanks to DNA and lots of digging. I am writing this blog as a way to work through everything that being adopted means to me.