I Sometimes Wonder What Life Would Have Been Like If I Wasn't Adopted.
I realized recently I have been running away my entire life, but was I running away? Or was I running to find myself?
Suppose I had the whole world in front of me without the war adoption created inside my soul. Of course, I will never know, and the should have, could have, would have mentality serves no purpose, but I still wonder occasionally. I can't help it. A big part of me feels like adoption hijacked so many parts of me from the beginning of my life. Being separated from my birth mother and lied to about everything, I shouldn't have had to fight the world for my truth every step of the way.
My birth sister resents me because I was given up for adoption, and she wasn’t. She also gave a baby up for adoption, so she believes adoption is a “win-win” for all. She’s let me know her life was awful living with an alcoholic mother. Still, she has never acknowledged that I lived with a manic depressive, suicidal, pill-addicted, narcissistic stranger whom I was forced to call “mother.” While I save space for her disheartening upbringing, she assumes mine was rainbows and unicorns. We see things very differently when it comes to adoption, and because of this, we sadly have no relationship.
After all, adoption is supposed to offer a child a better life, but, often, for many of us, it's only a different life. Some of us are adopted into abusive adoptive homes, where our adoptive parents divorce, or we are adopted by people who aren't capable of being parents. Some of us don't feel loved, valued, or taken care of.
Who's to say adoption always creates a better life? The agencies are still selling this dream and the mainstream adoption narrative.
But even for those who can say they can say they experienced a better life than what they would have had, they still encounter inner turmoil from being adopted and separated from their families or origins. I haven't met one adoptee in the world who hasn't. I describe it as the war inside, where I was experiencing deep-rooted, internal torment, not knowing who I was or where I came from.
I will never know what a "normal childhood" is like due to the abuse I experienced in my adoptive home, combined with the thoughts of my birth mother taking up every fiber of my thought process until I laid eyes on her when I was 21 years old. Every moment of every day, I thought about her, tormented about who she was and where she was.
What did she look like? Was she looking for me like I was looking for her? What was her name, and what would it feel like to feel her warm embrace? I always longed for a mother's love and searched every day for the woman who was always in a dream or a fantasy, yet never anywhere I could tangibly touch her or see that she was real.
I see television shows on how things should be, or occasionally see how things should be having friends with their own families, always watching and admiring from afar but never having my own experience to compare it to.
Of course, I have children of my own, and I have done the best I know how to love and care for them as a mother should, but truthfully, I have winged it the entire time. No one showed me how to do it, but they guided me on what not to do.
I haven't always made the perfect choices for me or my kids, but parenting is so challenging when none of us have a road map, let alone being a train wreck from the beginning. The reality is that my kids always have and always will deserve so much more than a mom who's been entirely wrecked by adoption.
Alcohol dependency stole 27 years of my life that I can never get back, and that means it stole a lot from my kids. My pain from abandonment, rejection, and emotional, sexual, and physical abuse in my adoptive homes plagued my childhood and teen years. It was no surprise that I was a pregnant (miscarried) runaway at fifteen years old, out on the streets, experiencing more in my teen years than most people do in an entire lifetime.
I recently was in a group chat with a few new friends, and someone mentioned that they wanted to see everyone's senior pictures. I was mortified at the thought that now I had to share that I didn't have a senior picture. Instead, I was transparent and said my teenage years didn't allow me to have a senior picture.
Instead, I was a high school dropout, not going back to school until after I had my first daughter. I missed all the high school shenanigans. I did occasionally attend a school in Iowa called Metro, which was the school for all the "bad kids," which only increased the feelings of badness I already felt from being born into sin and abandoned by my birth mother.
This picture of the runaway teenage me was the closest thing I had, and I think I was around 15-16 years old.
When I was 21 years old and a single mother when I had my first daughter, I didn't know how to parent, but becoming pregnant changed my whole life. I had a reason to live, even when I didn't want to live for myself. Four years later, I had premature twins and my four-year-old to take care of. These were some of the most challenging times of my life.
Against the grain, I kept my kids, pressed forward, and did the damn thing with no road map on how to parent or help from their fathers whatsoever. I didn’t have parents around who I could look up to or reflect on how to parent. Being a single parent taught me to live in pilot mode, and by any means necessary, I had to do whatever I could to put food on the table to feed my kids. I have almost always worked two jobs, sometimes three, to provide for them. This was hard on them and me, too.
My life path would have been entirely different if my beginnings had been different. We can all say that to a certain degree, but I can only speak for myself and my story.
I never wanted my kids to experience anything close to what I have, so I tried to protect them as much as possible, but unfortunately, that has turned out to be a false hope. My kids feel much of what I feel as an adoptee, and I missed the mark in many areas. I will be writing about this soon because there is a lot to be said about parenting as an adopted person. (stay tuned)
I have tried to give them many things that weren't given to me. One of them is a fun childhood and the openness for transparent conversation to help promote healing when they have questions or want to talk about why things were the way they were, even admitting to my downfalls as a parent and doing whatever I can to help them heal. None of my parents had the willingness to do this at all, and because of this, I have isolated alone on an island, trying to navigate my healing journey.
I remember seeing how a mother's love was supposed to be for the first time when I was in my mid-30s, and it wasn't from any of the three prospective mothers I should have had. (adoptive, biological, step) Life has been hell on wheels, not having a mother to rely on and one of the most tremendous losses of my life.
I see so many crying at their mothers or loved ones' funerals, and all I can say in my mind is, "At least you had one." I always wonder if they cherish all the memories they have with their mother because some of us don't get any memories, or if we do have them, they are traumatic memories. The mother wound is enormous for many adoptees.
The lady I was a caregiver for for 18 years has a daughter who comes home to visit every few months. I would see them greet each other after a long absence when she would arrive and they would depart from a visit. I saw the closeness they had, the love that was shared between the two of them, and I had never seen anything like it in this lifetime. It opened my eyes to what I missed out on. Sometimes, when we don't experience it ourselves, we don't know what we don't know.
While growing up, this closeness to a mother was physically nonexistent, but in my mind, my birth mother was a part of my thought process every minute of every day. While some kids might have been pondering what they want to be when they grow up, I was internalizing a self-destructive part that resented everything about being adopted. I hated not knowing who my mother was, and I hated everyone who kept her away from me. I hated my adoptive parents for signing me up for this, and I hated myself because the inner belief of badness was at the core of my abandonment wound from the separation from my biological mother.
They can sugarcoat it how they want, "I placed my baby" feels just like abandonment, and that is a profound wound to navigate, especially when it's from the woman who should love you the most, your biological mother.
I didn't have a chance to see life positively when I was a kid, teenager, or young adult. Adoption stole this chance, and I feel like I missed so much of my childhood and teenage years because of it. No prom, no walking for graduation, no homecoming, no father/daughter dances, no college tours, or planning for my future, or heartfelt conversations with a mother or a father about life, lessons, or learning things the hard way.
I was a runaway; the streets taught me a lot, but they also stole a lot. I was dying to find my birth mother and to know who I looked like finally. I realized recently I have been running away my entire life, but was I running away? Or was I running to find myself?
Finding myself meant finding my first family, and I didn't know (and still don't) how to do that with my adoptive family in the mix. I am positive most of them have no actual idea how traumatic and challenging this adoption journey has been for me. They know the old me that used to act out in pain, the troubled one, causing others pain because I was in so much pain. They also still look at me as "little Pammy," the one who was the baby, and the way they treat me, I still am. To them, I have never grown up.
Instead, my adoptive mom silenced me with her sentiments on how grateful she was for my birth mother's decision that allow her to be a mother. Her dream come true was my most significant loss, and she had no space for my feelings, nor were they welcomed.
Consider Reading: When Your Biggest Blessing Invalidates My Greatest Trauma.
If adoption wasn't a part of my life, I may have been a professional artist, designer, or creator. I could have been an Echotherapist, a botanist, or a scientist. If I had supportive parents, I would have experienced high school differently and gone on to get a four-year degree. If I had family support, I could have easily been better at playing basketball, but even when no one taught me how to play, I tried. I wasn't any good, because I didn't know the details of the game. No one took the time to teach me.
After being committed to drug and alcohol treatment at 15, in and out of group homes detention centers, arrested dozens of times as a teenager, even as an adult, living 12 years old with alcohol dependency, no amount of acting out or pain, I was in did anyone along the trajectory of all these experiences of life bring adoption to the table.
"Everyone has struggles in life, and we all have choices of navigating the cards we were dealt. Take accountability! " says the world. Yes, this is very true, but right now, here I am talking about separation trauma, adoption trauma, and the lies that stand in the way of adoptee healing and how that’s impacted my life negatively. I had no control over this happening TO ME!
If the truth had been told from the beginning, and if I had been equipped with how to navigate processing lifelong grief, things would have been very different for me. Sadly, all the professionals (countless) and adults I came into contact with failed me, as they do hundreds of thousands of adoptees around the world. I feel like I slipped through the cracks, as many of us do.
How does this happen? Better yet, why is it still happening?
I keep sharing my story because I hope for a better trajectory for future generations of adoptees. I could easily fade into the wilderness and play away the rest of my life. However, this topic is essential because we need a change in adoption. Adoptees are dying, and we can't afford to stay silent.
Anyone who knows me personally knows that I have been on a quest to take back all the adoption that has been stolen from me for years now. We get to write our own stories, and when our beginnings don't go as planned, it's up to each of us to rewrite things. We all get to wake up each day and make choices for our own lives, and even when others make these life-altering significant choices for us in the beginning, we now get to choose.
Today, I have rewritten and reclaimed what adoption has dismantled, and I am sure I will be doing this for the rest of my life. It's easy to revisit the times when I was on the mega struggle bus and ponder what I would have been or could have been; however, for most of my time, I am thinking about the future and what's ahead. It's natural to wonder about the past; I just can't get stuck there.
I can't change the past, but I can take the pain of my life story and turn it into purpose, and that's what I have done and will continue to do. I've made peace with it and accepted I can't do anything about the cards I was dealt. I can press forward with a hopeful attempt at creating a better future for adoptees.
MARK YOUR CALENDAR FOR AN EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING ON MARCH 10th, 2024.
This event is hosted by Beth Syverson, adoptive mom, and Moses Farrow, an adoptee. Many leaders in the adoption and adoptee community will be present to support this life-or-death reality that is happening around the world. Please consider saving the date and attending.
From my friend/adoptive mom, Beth Syverson: “I am calling on all of us who have a heart - whether we are adoptees, adoptive parents, birth parents, or allies not personally connected with adoption - to attend this Town Hall and speak out against systemic injustices and the brutal tortures and murders of adopted children by adoptive parents. I am standing with others in the community to speak out against these horrific and all-too-frequent occurrences. Won’t you stand with me? Come to our Town Hall Meeting on Sunday, March 10, and be part of the solution.”
From my friend and fellow adoptee, Moses Farrow: “Please help us raise the urgency of this hidden crisis within our adoption communities. We stand together in solidarity against this common threat to all of us. The town hall meeting is a forum to raise your voices, call to action, and show up for all victims of this predatory industry. Bring your concerns, grievances, struggles, and solutions for taking action. Victimization, commodification, abuse, torture, and murder are issues that plague our communities. Every person counts, and every life matters. Show up and speak up.”
To Register, click here. Please share this event widely.
ADVENTURE TIME!
A few weekends ago, I was able to run away to nature to escape the real world, and I needed some waterfall therapy. One of my favorite forever friends, whom I met in my Adoptees Connect group, joined me. This is Tobie’anna and I at Anglin Falls in Berea, KY. You don’t want to be trapped on a trail with just anyone! Tobie’anna and I hit it off from the moment we met, and we have many amazing memories together.
This waterfall doesn’t flow when it’s dry outside, and we just so happened to have a big rain, along with some snow melting before we went. It was oh-so muddy, but that’s part of the adventure. I had such a blast spending time with this beautiful soul and connecting with her and Mother Nature in this way. It had been months since I had run away to a waterfall, so this was much-needed self-care and overdue!
I have yet to decide where my next adventure will be, but one thing for certain is that they are never-ending for me because Kentucky has over 1000 waterfalls. If you are ever in the area, look me up! I would love to take you on a waterfall tour of our hidden gems around the state.
Q & A
For my fellow adoptees, do you ever wonder how differently your life might have been if you didn't have the beginnings you had? What do you think you would have been or accomplished differently than what you have? Are you reclaiming what adoption dismantled? If so, how? Drop your comments or thoughts on this article below. I would love to hear them!
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 I recommend reading:
100 Heartfelt Transracial Adoptee Quotes that Honor the Truth of Adoption by Pamela A. Karanova & 100 Transracial Adoptees Worldwide
What Are the Mental Health Effects of Being Adopted? By Therodora Blanchfield, AMFT
10 Things Adoptive Parents Should Know – An Adoptee’s Perspective by Cristina Romo
Understanding Why Adoptees Are At A Higher Risk for Suicide by Maureen McCauley | Light of Day Stories
Toward Preventing Adoption- Related Suicide by Mirah Riben
Relationship Between Adoption and Suicide Attempts: A Meta-Analysis
Reckoning with The Primal Wound Documentary with a 10% off coupon code (25 available) “adopteesconnect”
Still, Grieving Adoptee Losses, What My Adoptive Parents Could Have Done Differently.
always. it's a constant wonder of "what would I do who would I be?" I still wonder if I would be a hockey player or artist. Would I still be loved for the things I can do and not criticised for what I cannot do...
I wonder this about my life too - if my parents hadn't put my baby up for adoption. Within a year I, like you, was deep in trouble with drugs, alcohol, running away, hanging out with the "bad" kids. I was ashamed, a slut and irredeemable. I dropped out of school at 16, filled with rage at my family, my church, my school. My plans to be a psychologist or English professor were forgotten. My body had the signs of pregnancy and birth but my precious baby had vanished into thin air and no one ever spoke a word about him. There was no language to express my loss and grief. I lived with a phantom limb and hoped to die.
20 years later I finally married and had 5 pregnancies in 7 years. 3 children lived and I found myself a single parent raising 3 children under age 6 after escaping the marriage. I always worked full time and managed to buy us a house but my inability to attach deeply as a mother, along with the mood disorders that came with CPTSD from my teenage pregnancy, birth, relinquishment and the marriage made for a volatile home environment. I was sure if I were to admit my struggles with parenting, my children would be taken from me. So we suffered alone and survived as best we could. They are now 27, 29 and 31 and I will spend the rest of my life trying to compensate them for how I failed them.
And what of my lost son? How would his life have been different if he'd been kept in my family of origin? I damn sight better, I venture. I don't believe he'd have taken his life at 27 and be buried with his adoptive mother (also adopted) who died a slow and painful death from breast cancer before she was 50. When he too became a birth father at the age of 18 I would not have asked him to surrender his child, as his adopters did. I would've helped him raise my grandson
And how different would be the lives of my grandson and great-grandson if I'd not fallen into adoption's trap and surrendered my son? They'd grown up knowing us all and I feel certain they'd have a father and grandfather still alive. Hopefully, the cruel legacy has ended in our family as I advocate loudly to everyone I know about the need to abolish the human trafficking known as adoption.