Introducing Dealt in Shame, Reclaimed My Name Collage Art by Pamela A. Karanova
From my hands to your space, these are prints of genuinely original, hand-cut collages, one-of-a-kind in spirit, created with love by ME. Collage With me...
Dealt in Shame, Reclaimed My Name Collage Art by Pamela A. Karanova
They told me I was lucky.
That I had been chosen.
But the cards I was dealt? Torn. Faded. Lied on. Folded before I ever got to play.
My life began like a magician’s trick—smoke and mirrors, sealed records, and smiling strangers holding me like a prize they’d won. But I wasn’t a prize. I was a person. And somewhere, someone had decided that the truth wasn’t mine to keep.
For years, I wore their story like a second skin.
“You’re so loved.”
“You’re better off.”
“Don’t be ungrateful.”
The world handed me clubs and spades, blackened with shame, each card reminding me I was expected to play happy while mourning silently. I didn’t know my real name. I didn’t know where I came from. I didn’t even know I had the right to ask.
Until one day, I did.
And that’s where this collage was born—from the wreckage of that lie.
A face peeking through the unzipped illusion, eyes wide open, finally seeing.
Playing cards tossed like shrapnel, scattered truths finally laid out for me to confront.
A rotary phone no one ever picked up.
Clocks without hands—time stolen, identity delayed.
Candles burning for the versions of me that never got to be born.
But look again.
See that zipper? That’s me unsealing the silence.
That’s me reclaiming what they said I couldn’t have.
That’s me digging through the chaos, through every mislabeled record, every gaslighted feeling, and saying: No more.
The queen card?
I placed her myself.
I’m not their fantasy. I’m my own real.
I didn’t choose these cards, but I reshuffled the damn deck.
I traced the roots they told me to forget. I spoke the name they tried to erase. I lit the candle not in mourning, but in honor. Of who I was. Of who I am.
They dealt me in shame.
But I reclaimed my name.
And now? I play my own game.
Reflections of A Cosmic Wandress Collage Art by Pamela A. Karanova
She came from the trenches, the cracked cement of a world that never quite fit. Born into disconnection, the Cosmic Wandress walked the edge of galaxies with a heart heavy from a story she didn’t choose. An orphaned soul floating through borrowed identities, she spent lifetimes searching for a place that felt like home.
The world told her to look outward, toward families made of paper, toward smiles that never reached the soul, toward a sky that promised healing if only she’d forget the fracture.
But she couldn’t forget.
So one day, exhausted from the pretending, she turned inward. Away from the noise. Away from the mirrors others held up, warped with expectations and labels that never fit her skin.
She looked into a new kind of mirror, the one forged from silence, from inner knowing, from pain transmuted into power. In its reflection, she saw not a lost girl, but a force. A becoming.
The path she walked had always been dark and rough, like broken concrete. But as she breathed life back into the parts of herself long buried, the cracks gave way to color. From beneath the pavement, the flowers bloomed, bright, unapologetic, wild. Each petal, a piece of her rediscovered truth. Each one whispered:
"You are not what was done to you."
"You are what you choose to grow into."
Behind her, the Earth turned. A reminder that even in the vastness of space, she belonged. Not because someone claimed her, but because she claimed herself.
She saw herself not as a mistake or a misfit but a miracle. A wandering soul who stitched herself back together through truth and reflection.
In that moment, the Cosmic Wandress found her home, not in people, places, or promises but in herself.
And finally, the universe made sense.
Because she did.
I believe with everything in me that we can take our pain—the deepest, most gut-wrenching, soul-cracking pain and flip it into something raw, real, and beautiful. That’s exactly where my Karanova Handcut Kollage collection was born. From the scraps. From the mess. From those moments that nearly broke me.
With scissors in one hand and grief in the other, I sit for hours and sometimes days, piecing together stories through images and words torn from old magazines and paper clippings. This isn’t just a hobby, it’s healing. It’s truth-telling. It’s a rebellion against staying silent in our suffering.
Every collage is a reflection of what it means to alchemize pain into power, chaos into clarity, and trauma into something that speaks. So yeah, I’m just getting started, and the Karanova Kollage collection is growing, one cut and paste at a time.
Every single collage I create is hand-cut, piece by piece, using magazine clippings—including rare vintage finds dating all the way back to the 1950s. These bold beauties are one-of-a-kind originals—never duplicated, never basic. You won’t find another like it, anywhere. It’s art with attitude, cut to stand out. You requested it, I am delivering. I have created copies of these designs just for you! Postcards, greeting cards, posters, mugs, and more. Visit Karanova Kollages to check them out!
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.
If you are a USA adoptee experiencing a mental health crisis, please take immediate steps to ensure your safety. Contact a licensed mental health professional or text #988 for immediate assistance.
For adoptees around the globe, please reach out to The Mental HeaHelplines: International Global Help Hotline Directory here.
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
When Adoptees Know Loss Before We Know Love by Pamela A. Karanova
When Society is Uninformed On Separation Trauma, Education is Essential by Pamela A. Karanova
Thirty Things to Consider Before Adopting from An Adult Adoptee Perspective by Pamela A. Karanova
I’m Adopted, HELP ME by Pamela A. Karanova
Adoption Hasn’t Touched Me. It’s Ruthlessly Kicked My Ass by Pamela A. Karanova
Head Logic Won't Heal a Broken Heart: Emotional Gaslighting & Why Emotions Matter in Adoptee Grief & Loss by Pamela A. Karanova
Adopted and in the Dark: The Medical History Crisis No One Talks About by Pamela A. Karanova
Disclaimer:
The views and opinions expressed in this article and podcast are those of the author, Pamela A. Karanova. These articles are intended for educational and entertainment purposes only. Nothing shared on this platform should be considered psychological, medical, or legal advice. Reproduction of the material contained in this publication may be made only with the written permission of Pamela A. Karanova.
While Pamela hopes you find the information on her website useful and informative, please note that the information provided is for general informational purposes only. Although every effort is made to ensure the information is up-to-date and correct, Pamela A. Karanova makes no representations or warranties of any kind, express or implied, about the completeness, accuracy, reliability, suitability, or availability with respect to the resources listed on the website or the information, products, services, or related graphics contained therein. Any reliance you place on such information is strictly at your own risk.
Through this website, you may link to other websites which are not under the control of Pamela A. Karanova. She has no control over the nature, content, and availability of those sites. The inclusion of any links does not necessarily imply a recommendation or endorsement of the views expressed within them.
Your words captured my feelings, the ones I couldn't name but still feel deep within my core, regardless. Thank you for saying the words "out loud" for all to see.