Perceptions

By Layla B.

There is a predisposition to want everything to be perfect; a perfect and loving family (whether while growing up or a family that you grow on your own), an empowering job, an education, etc. As a child, it seems easily attainable, but the reality is so much harder than the envisioned rosy life. I believe this is the hardest part about being an older adopted youth, that you must accept these conflicting thoughts that leave you feeling alone and unable to fully express how you feel.

The sadness. Unlike what you might expect the move-in date with your new adoption family to be like, it was ultimately sad. I not only felt like I was leaving my foster family that I had built an attachment to, but I was also mourning my biological family that I had hoped would come back into my life. The first year of being adopted, I felt a void swallowing me whole. The loss from a young age made me question if I would ever be able to gain the momentum to be happy. I had neglect, abuse, and the feeling of never being good enough in my bag of ‘junk’. Even more so, I saw how other kids with similar pasts were handling their ‘junk’ through drug use and a drive to stay numb. I debated if that would be me, should I take the easy way out; people would understand that all my pain needed to be mended somehow. Unfortunately, whoops! I mean fortunately (haha), I chose to work hard and sought things that would mend my broken heart. I pushed myself to be active in therapy, do yoga, and journaling. Honestly, anything that would make it easier to strive instead of survive and my adopted parents (even though it was hard dealing with that much pain coming from three children) offered as much support as they could muster. After that year, I believe I changed a lot into the person I wanted to be but I needed the help and to trust the process of what life is instead of what I wanted life to be.

The anger. Although this part is not pretty, nor something I am proud of, it is important to acknowledge. The overflowing emotions that I could be left that easily by my biological and foster family utterly crushed me. If the people I loved could do that to me, then who was to say that these “strangers” would not do the same. My adoptive parents always joke about it now that I was testing them to see if they would stay. I guess in a way I might have been, but those moments of the flashing red anger felt more like a cry for help. For someone to bring back my deceased mother or grandmother, to see my biological father happy and not living on the streets, or even for a hug, even in the most intimidating times. Although my intentions were not to be violent, it didn’t always work out that way. When I would play wrestle or thought it was fun and games, I would end up taking it too far. When I was angry, I would be screaming so loud that the neighbors would hear, and my face would be red and splotchy. When you’re feeling that down, the only release is through making others feel that way as well. At least that was my thought process at the time. I believe it changed when I started seeing the other side or be on the receiving end of the anger and knew that was not the person I wanted to be. Whenever I felt angry, I would take a step back, wait a minute, reflect on the message I wanted to convey, and the reason behind my anger.

There is a perception that adoption is easy, and the children and parents will instantly mesh well together; that it is glamorized and instantly infused with love. That may be true in some cases, but it is also filled with many dark moments, for the children and the parents. When entering this new world, this new home, you are never navigating your demons alone. It takes a lot of strength to work together and to not feel like you are carrying the burden on your own.

The opinions expressed in blogs posted reflect their author and do not represent any official stance of Adopt4Life. We respect the diversity of opinions within the adoption, kinship and customary care community and hope that these posts will stimulate meaningful conversations.