From Exhaustion and Anger to Empowerment and Education: The Evolution of My Adoption Advocacy
The more I fought to be heard, the more exhausted I became. And what filled the space left by that exhaustion was pure rage—the kind of rage that made me want to jump through the computer screen.
For many years after I emerged from the fog of adoption, I felt an undeniable urgency to share my truth—the raw, unfiltered truth about how damaging adoption can be. A raging fire was burning inside me, fueled by anger, hurt, and a deep need to be seen and heard. As an adopted person, I spent my whole life caring for the wants and needs of others' feelings, putting them first, while mine were always cast aside, unimportant, and ignored.
I wanted people to understand the profound impact adoption had on me, how it uprooted me from the very essence of my being, and how the narrative of adoption being all rainbows and unicorns was a harmful lie perpetuated by society and pro-adoption propaganda.
Consider Reading: Understanding Closed Adoption: History, Harms & The Urgent Call For Truth & Transparency.
Like many of us who feel passionate about a cause, I turned to the internet. I poured my heart out, sharing my voice, anger, pain, and experiences. I thought if I just spoke loudly enough and often enough, people would finally understand the deep scars adoption left on me. I believed that if I fought hard enough, I could break through the walls of ignorance and indifference.
But there was a harsh reality I hadn't accounted for: most non-adoptees weren't ready, or worse, they weren't willing to listen. I found myself entangled in countless arguments where I would give everything I had emotionally, only to be met with defensiveness, dismissal, or outright ignorance.
It was soul-crushing.
The more I fought to be heard, the more exhausted I became. And what filled the space left by that exhaustion was pure rage—the kind of rage that made me want to jump through the computer screen and shake people until they understood. I wanted them to feel the depth of my pain, but instead, I found myself shouting into a void.
I'm not proud of how much anger consumed me during this time and for most of my life. The stress of these interactions weighed heavily on me. Night after night, I would lie awake, replaying conversations in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong or how I could've said things differently to get through to people. The anxiety was overwhelming, and it took a toll on my mental and physical health in ways I wasn't prepared for.
After years of living in this cycle of anger and frustration, a few hard truths finally hit me in the face. The first—and probably the most important—was this: no one can fully understand what it feels like to be adopted unless they are adopted themselves.
For years, I had been trying to force non-adoptees to understand something they simply couldn't. I wanted to shake them because they didn't get it. But the truth is, they can't get it. They don't have our experience. Just like I wouldn't know what it's like to be married or divorced without having lived through it, non-adoptees can't possibly grasp the profound loss and trauma that comes with being separated from our biological mothers and families and then adopted.
Expecting them to understand was like expecting a fish to climb a tree—it would never happen.
Once I accepted that reality, everything shifted for me. I stopped holding people close to me with an unrealistic expectation that they would somehow understand my experience. They couldn't, and that's okay. When I stopped expecting them to get it, it lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. It freed me from the constant frustration filling my interactions for so long.
Another powerful lesson I learned during this process was that I needed to save my energy, time, and emotional space for the people who wanted to try to receive my message. Not everyone is ready for the truth about adoption, and not everyone is willing to learn.
The key difference?
Willingness.
I can tell whether someone is open to listening within the first few sentences of a conversation. If they're receptive, I continue. If they're not, it's a complete stop, and I walk away.
Newsflash: Arguing with people on the internet is one of the most pointless and soul-sucking activities I've ever engaged in. It's like throwing your energy, time, and mental health into a black hole, hoping something meaningful will emerge. In reality, most people you encounter online are more interested in defending their beliefs than truly understanding yours.
When I used to engage in these heated arguments, it felt like I was constantly pouring from an empty cup, exhausting myself in the process, and leaving with nothing but frustration. It's draining on a deep emotional level because you're often met with resistance, defensiveness, or outright hostility.
The internet's anonymity makes it easy for people to be dismissive or hurtful, robbing you of the chance for honest, meaningful dialogue. This ties directly into the lesson I've learned through my adoption advocacy—if someone isn't willing to listen, arguing with them won't change that.
Consider Reading: Being A Stuck Adoptee, Habitual Oversharing, Trauma Dumping, Plagued with Chronic Story Telling.
Instead, I've learned to protect my energy, saving my voice for spaces and people who genuinely want to hear my message. Trying to force my truth onto someone who refuses to listen is a losing battle, and I've decided to walk away from it for the sake of my own well-being.
This has been an absolute game-changer for me.
I no longer feel compelled to waste my breath or energy on people who aren't ready or willing to hear my truth. And let me tell you, feeling safe when sharing my message is crucial. If I sense that someone doesn't have the capacity to listen or if they're going to shut me down, I stop right there. I don't owe anyone my story unless they are ready to receive it. Protecting my peace has become one of the most essential parts of my advocacy, and it's something I take seriously now.
Once I embraced these truths, my life became so much easier.
Non-adoptees will never fully understand, but those who love me enough to try—those who are willing to listen and be present when I share—mean the world to me. They don't have to get it entirely, but their willingness to hear me out, to be a heart with ears, is enough. And those people are gold.
I used to say, "I don't have the gift of dealing with adoptive parents." I believed it for a long time. Why? Because I often inserted my opinions and experiences in places they weren't asked for, it led to nothing but conflict and frustration.
But over time, I realized I had been selling myself short. I do have the gift of speaking to adoptive parents, but here's the catch: it all comes down to a straightforward question:
Are they willing to receive my message?
If the answer is no, I move on.
I no longer waste time trying to convince people who aren't open to hearing what I have to say. But if the answer is yes, that's when the magic happens. When adoptive parents come to the conversation willing to listen, really listen, it opens the door to meaningful dialogue. I can help them see beyond the societal narrative of adoption and into the emotional landscape adoptees live in every day. That's when the real work begins. That's when my voice can make a true impact.
I've come to realize that most of my adoptee and adoption-themed thoughts and feelings are best saved for my fellow adoptees. No one truly understands the emotional, mental, and even physical cost of being adopted except for those of us who have lived it. We share a deep, intrinsic connection, a silent understanding of what it means to navigate the world with that kind of loss and longing.
However, I have been fortunate enough to find a few people who aren't adoptees who love me enough to listen and learn. These few individuals care deeply enough to open their hearts and try to understand my experience, not because they have lived it but because they love me.
I can be vulnerable with them because I know they are a safe space.
On the other hand, I've also encountered people who have proven they are not safe for me to share my deepest feelings about adoption. Through their words or actions, they have shown me that they are not open to understanding my experience, and I don't share with those people. Perhaps they try to minimize my feelings, silence me in various ways, or even gaslight me.
There is a stark difference between these two groups, and my interactions with them have guided me in deciding whether or not to continue conversations about adoption.
The willingness to listen and truly learn makes all the difference in whether I choose to engage or protect my heart, and here's why:
1. It protects my energy. I'm no longer exhausting myself on people who aren't ready to hear me. My message is too important to waste on deaf ears.
2. It creates space for honest dialogue. When someone is open to listening, I am no longer shouting into the void. It's a chance for mutual understanding to grow.
3. It preserves my mental health. Constantly running into walls of ignorance or defensiveness wore me down. By focusing on those who are willing, I safeguard my emotional well-being.
4. It fosters meaningful connections. When people are open to hearing my story, they're also open to deeper connections, which are priceless.
5. It opens the door for change. People who are willing to listen are the ones who can make fundamental changes in their homes, communities, and even society. This is where the magic happens.
I hope by sharing this with you, I can help save you the time, energy, and mental stress that I went through before I figured all of this out. As adoptees, we already carry so much, and protecting our mental health is absolutely crucial. And trust me, there's an entire army of tone police out there ready to tell you how you should or shouldn't express yourself.
Let me be clear: Disrespect is never okay and I have dealt with my share in the adoptee community. People are less likely to engage when we are mean, rude, abusive, angry, and rage-filled, but they may listen when we channel our pain into helping them understand. This was a hard pill to swallow because I had every right to be angry. But everything changed when I shifted my approach from simply expressing my fury to helping people understand why I was so angry. I started reaching more people. They began to listen when I stopped expecting people to get it and instead showed them where my anger came from.
Consider Reading: Internet Trolls & Cyber Bullies: The Adopteeland Hall of Shame Continues to Grow.
Yes, much of my writing still expresses my grievances with adoption because it's a massive part of my reality. And let's be honest—most adoptees get it because we live this life. However, I also try to help non-adoptees understand. Some people will never have the capacity to listen or learn because it would shatter their conditioned beliefs about adoption, and that's okay.
I no longer feel responsible for saving those people.
If I leave you with one thing, it's this: our voices and stories need to be heard, but we get to choose who we share them with, how we share them, and when we share them. Protect yourself from those who aren't ready or willing to listen. It's not our job to convince the world but to share our truth with those who care enough to hear it.
A Weekend Escape to the Appalachian Mountains: A Journey of Self-Care and Connection with Nature
Next weekend, I’m taking a solo trip to one of my favorite places on Earth—the Appalachian Mountains. This two-day adventure will take me through some of the most breathtaking and soul-nourishing areas of the Appalachian region, and I couldn’t be more excited to immerse myself in the peace and beauty that these mountains offer. The Appalachian range, known for its rolling peaks, lush forests, and ancient charm, has always held a special place in my heart. Its quiet power calls me back every time I need to reconnect with myself and Mother Nature.
For those who aren’t familiar with the Appalachians, this mountain range stretches for nearly 2,000 miles across the eastern United States, and is home to some of the most diverse ecosystems in the country. The Appalachian landscape is marked by dense woodlands, cascading waterfalls, and meandering rivers that wind through valleys, offering moments of stillness that are hard to find anywhere else. I plan to explore different spots over the course of two days—soaking in the sights, sounds, and grounding energy of this glorious land.
This trip is entirely solo, just the way I like it. There's something incredibly freeing about venturing into nature alone, without the noise or expectations of others. Solo trips give me the space to breathe, reflect, and simply be—something that feels increasingly rare in the busyness of daily life. The mountains are my sanctuary, a place where I can unplug, reconnect with myself, and feel the healing energy of Mother Nature.
Self-care comes in many forms, but for me, it’s in these solo moments with nature that I find the most profound restoration. The act of walking through the woods, feeling the ground beneath my feet, and listening to the wind through the trees is more than just a physical experience—it’s a mental and emotional cleanse. The Appalachian Mountains have a way of reminding me that I am small in the best way possible; they humble me, ground me, and give me space to reflect on the things that truly matter.
There’s a direct connection between nature and mental health, and I’m constantly reminded of how essential it is to nurture that relationship. Being in nature reduces stress, clears the mind, and offers clarity that’s hard to find in the daily grind. For me, this trip is more than just a getaway—it’s a necessary act of self-care, a way to reset and recharge mentally and emotionally.
I look forward to sharing more of my experience in the days that follow, but for now, I’m savoring the anticipation of this upcoming journey. If you’ve ever found peace, healing, or connection in nature, you know exactly what I mean. The Appalachian Mountains, with their timeless beauty, are waiting to offer me that solace once again. I can’t wait to answer their call.
Q & A
Let's Talk About Your Experiences.
It’s Your Turn To Spill The Tea!
I’ve shared my journey from frustration and anger to empowerment and focused advocacy, but now I want to hear from you. Have you ever felt the exhaustion of sharing your truth with people who weren’t ready or willing to listen? How have you managed those interactions, both online and offline? What steps have you taken to protect your energy and mental health when sharing deeply personal stories, whether about adoption or another sensitive topic?
And on a different note, I’d love to know about your connection with nature, especially if you’ve ever taken a trip to the Appalachian Mountains or any mountain range that speaks to your soul. Do you feel that grounding, that connection with Mother Nature? How does being in nature help you reset, recharge, or find clarity? What role has nature played in your self-care and mental health?
Drop your thoughts and experiences in the comments below—I’m eager to learn how others in our community have navigated these challenges. How do you decide who is safe to share your story with? Have you found a balance between educating others and protecting yourself? And if you love nature as much as I do, what have been your favorite spots to ground yourself and find peace? Let’s keep this conversation going!
I see you; I feel your pain for all the adoptees who feel forgotten, lost, and alone. Please don’t give up, and know you aren’t alone in feeling like you do.
I have compiled a list of recommended resources for adoptees and advocates. It can be found here: Recommended Resources for Adult Adoptees and Adoption Advocates.
Thank you for reading and for supporting me and my work.
Understanding is Love,
Pamela A. Karanova
Here are a few articles that highlight the intersection of adoption, grief and loss I recommend reading:
The Essential Role of The Grief Recovery Method in The Adoption Constellation.
Still, Grieving Adoptee Losses, What My Adoptive Parents Could Have Done Differently.
Acknowledging Immeasurable Adoptee Grief, The Real Mother.
When Adoptees Know Loss Before We Know Love.
Bewildering Adoptee Grief on Infinite Repeat.
30 Things To Consider Before Adopting From An Adult Adoptee Perspective.
Adoptee Holiday Grief, The Gift That Keeps On Giving.
Adoption Hasn’t Touched Me. It’s Ruthlessly Kicked My Ass.
Adoption: Mislabeled, Medicated, & Diagnosed Adoptees Could Be Grieving Profoundly.
Adoption: Deconstructing Harmful Myths We've Learned About Adoptee Grief.
Grief From Adoption? Most People Think Of Death and Dying When They Think of Grief.
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You had me at “be a heart with ears” Such a beautiful sentiment about our allies. I recently figured out that for me, I’m glad they can’t understand because then they too would’ve been adopted. I wouldn’t wish those feelings that being adopted brings forth on anyone 💔
Thank you Pamela, this is just the message I need right now…