Community- Through the Looking Glass

Natural disasters, warfare, physical and sexual assault, and domestic abuses including verbal abuse; all are recognized as instances in which someone has been hurt. Society offers help to the sufferers of these traumas in the form of medical attention, counseling and legal protections. Most pointedly, society extends its empathy to them.

Then there are adoptees… Adoptees are stolen away from what many refer to as the most sacred relationship in life- mother/child. They are handed to strangers. They are robbed of their names, their histories, their biological truths, and their existential anchor in the world- their birthmothers. And then they’re told that none of this is significant, nothing really “happened,” they really haven’t lost anything at all.

I call adoption the “through the looking glass” trauma. All other traumas are instances where something that shouldn’t have happened did. Adoption is a scenario in which something that should have happened and didn’t. The “should-have” is the continuation of the mother-child bond and all the universal continuities that go with it.

Because adoption trauma is not the result of an action, but rather is the result of a non-action, or void, it goes broadly unacknowledged as a traumatic experience. Adoptees are often even expected to be grateful for their placement into a “better life.” Adoptees who are aware that they’re experiencing pain related to adoption are left feeling “crazy” and very, very alone.

Did you know that about 1 of 10 people in America are directly affected by adoption, being either adoptee/birth parent/adoptive parent, or living in the immediate family of one of those parties? When you think about it, 1 in 10 is a lot. If you’re in a restaurant full of 30 people, there are two other people in the room with you who are affected by adoption. If you’re surrounded by 100 people in your workplace, there are 10 who are “in the adoption boat” with you. We’re all basically tripping over each other and we don’t even know it. Meanwhile, we’re walking through life feeling alone and isolated in our pain.

This month we’ll talk about finding ways of connecting with others who are struggling with adoption-related trauma. For starters, take a day to notice people around you, knowing that many of them must be "Through the Looking Glass" of adoption along with you. Can you really imagine this truth? Does everyone else look “normal” in contrast to your “crazy”? Do you feel comforted by the thought that other adoptees are nearby? Do you feel even lonelier since their adoptive status is unknown to you?

Estimate how many people you’ve crossed paths with in a day- everyone from family to friends to work acquaintances to people in the grocery store. Divide that number by 10. That’s how many folks you’ve probably encountered who well may be suffering loss related to adoption.

Community- Alone at the Party

My Dad (adoptive Dad) organized the mail on the dining room table. Twice a year there would appear letters from the Children's Home of Pittsburgh, the adoption agency that handled my adoption. One of the letters would include a return envelope. I somehow understood that the envelope was to be returned with a check in it. I imagined the check to be a thank-you present, or an obligation, to the Children's Home for the Home’s bringing me to my adoptive family. The check showed the Home how good my parents were and how well they were taking care of me.

If the letter wasn't the thank-you letter, it was the Invitation. Each year the Home hosted a party for the adoptive families who were created thanks to the Home. Both my brother and I hated going. My brother remembers being encouraged with the enticement of cookies and crackers. We didn't want any cookies and crackers. I remember throwing up on my dresses on the car rides there. Mom always planned ahead and brought an extra for me to change in to.

The party seemed to me to be full of strange and odd beings. The other kids looked normal, but I thought they couldn't be, given that they were adopted like me, and, like me, they were given away by birthparents who did not want them. I definitely wasn’t normal. How could they be? But the reason the other children seemed so strange was that I could see anything “wrong” with them. And I couldn’t see whether they were as uncomfortable, and upset, as I was to be at the Party.

I was at the party to do a job. The job was to show the Ladies who worked at the Home what a good job my parents were doing and to show them how happy I was but I couldn’t imagine that’s what they were seeing. At the Parties I was nothing less than agonized until the moment we stepped out the front door into the cold winter air and started the drive back home. On that hour-long drive I comforted myself with the thought that I was as far as I could possibly be from the next year's Party at the Children's Home of Pittsburgh.

Why was the Party so miserable for me? I've heard that many kids enjoyed that one time of year when they were "around other kids like them." I think I was so pained about the party because all the year through our family pretended as if our family were, let's say, just like families created by Nature rather than arranged by an agency. I worked very hard to believe this fantasy, this falsehood. In the process, I struggled with a lot of pain all on my own; there was a Birthmother out there somewhere who didn't keep me. I didn't know why, and no one could- or would- tell me. Maybe if I convinced myself that none of this mattered, then it wouldn't be real and it wouldn't hurt.

Then once a year came the Party. My adoptive status was to be celebrated? How could it be? It was like celebrating everything that was "wrong" with me, that went unacknowledged and even denied in my household the rest of year through. What in the world was there to celebrate? Perhaps those whose adoptive status was not a taboo subject in their homes found camaraderie at the Party. It was a place where they felt not-alone. Or maybe they were bolder people than I who reveled in a once-a-year coming-out party that acknowledged their adoptions. Everyone is different. I just know that the Party was for me, rather than a festivity, an anxiety attack.

So much has changed for me since then. I talk online about adoption experience, hoping to help others do the same. It took a lot of hard work to get here, learning to take the risk of expressing myself and learning to trust my instinct that being adopted is a different life experience than that of being a birth-child. I’ve learned that my pain has been a real and legitimate experience.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were clearly acknowledged to be an adoptee amongst adoptees (or another adoptee)? Think back to the first time you experienced it. What was it like for you?

What's in a Name? "Sommersby"

December's movie night topic was the movie "Sommersby" (with Richard Gere & Jodie Foster). The story goes that Gere's character has been in battle in the Civil War and returns "home" to wife Jodie Foster. But "home" is actually his new, adopted home. The Gere character has assumed the identity of "Sommersby", a comrade who was killed in battle who happened to look just like Gere.(Far-fetched, I know, but then they didn't have many photos then as reminders... we can suspend disbelief and go with it.)

The Gere character despises himself based on his own past and he will settle for nothing less than reinventing himself. Meanwhile, in the intimacy of the "marraige", Foster realizes that Gere is not indeed her husband. Yet a relationship grows and Foster, along with the community, embrace the new "Sommersby". A problem ensues. The actual Sommersby, now dead, was responsible for serious crimes and is to stand trial. Gere's Sommersby must face trial and its possible outcome- a guilty verdict punishable by death.

As the story progresses Gere's hope for an "innocent" verdict grows bleak. And additional complication arises. Gere learns Foster's character has become pregnant with their child. Gere's only hope to escape execution is to confess to the court that he has stolen the real Sommerby's identity. Even the community, who have accepted him as one of their own, encourage him to confess to "identity theft" so that he can escape being hanged. Gere refuses to confess and he is sentenced to death. Gere goes to his death saturated in his pride, leaving wife and unborn child behind.

Gere was desperate to disown his questionable past and he hinged the whole idea of this "purge" on his name-change. The concept so consumed him that he abandoned a wife and child. In becoming a "new man", Sommersby ultimately seems to have become a lesser man, rejecting profound responsibilites, and love, for his ego. Sommersby's sense- the antithesis of Shakespeare's "What's in a name, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet"- was that a name is everything...

Can you imagine yourself ever inventing a new name for yourself? Say you were moving to a new city and wanted to a fresh start, to become someone new. Everyone in your new life would know you only by your invented name. What would the pros and cons be?

What's in a Name? The Possibilities are Endless...

This month’s topic- “What’s in a Name?”- will wrap up on Thursday with a “media night” discussion on the movie “Sommersby”. Watch it prior to Thursday if you can.

Today’s entry is simply random thoughts regarding naming that I find interesting to think about.

Boxer George Foreman named all four of his sons “George”. He once joked that this cleaned the slate from his accidentally calling someone by the wrong name. “Sting” and “Madonna” and “Cher” and a few non-celebrities I know of have renamed or defined themselves with a single name. What does it mean to present oneself this way? Does a single name stand apart, above, or beyond? (“God” doesn’t have a surname either.)

Some names sound like “brands”? Blade, Desire, P Diddy, Eminem. Does a brand name sort of make you a superhero?

I have a friend who named his dog Gi-li, pronounced "Gill'ee," the Cherokee word for “dog”. Essentially, he named his dog “Dog”. This bothers me for some reason.

I read about a study that followed trends in naming among Asians new to America. Words that had phonetics similar to their native languages often became their children’s (unusual) names. “Jackyl” was among the most popular. I imagine that the “Jackyls’” parents may have later regretted not doing more name-meaning research. And maybe the time came, especially for the boys, when having the “brand” of Jackyl was a good thing.

In a recent blog I mentioned a man I knew of whose last name was “Queer”. As you’d predict, he endured a lifetime of razzing over his name. When asked why he didn’t just change his name, he answered, “Well, because my father was a Queer, and his father was a Queer, and his father before that....”.

Finally, there’s my cousin, Brian James Donald Duff. His parents felt that the two middle names were too important for either to be left out. Brian, with his uncommonly long name, recently married. He and his wife are "progressive," creative folks, and they decided that as a couple they should merge and share both of their last names. My cousin is now Brian James Donald Grace-Duff. (Wonder how many names their kids will have...?)

What's in a Name- "Identity Crisis"

WHAT’S IN A NAME?
“Identity Crisis”

Prominent 20th Century psychologist Erik Erikson is an interesting “fit” for adoptees- starting with his name. Erikson was born out of an extramarital affair and during his childhood his biological father’s identity was kept secret from him. Erikson was adopted by a stepfather and came to bear the stepfather’s last name (Homberger). But in adulthood, after learning that his biological father’s first name was probably Erik, Erik Homberger changed his name to Erik Erikson (“Erikson” meaning “son of Erik”).

In cultivating his theories of developmental psychology, Erikson conceived the phrase “identity crises”. He believed that a healthy sense of identity requires a sense of “personal sameness and historical continuity”. This theory is literally reflected in Erikson’s name-change- he sought to reclaim his own history and truth, as do so many adoptees.

Erikson is known for his “8 stages of psychosocial development”. The stages present another interesting fit for adoptees. The first stage, in infancy, is “Trust vs. Mistrust” and is basically defined by the question, “Does the child believe his/her caretakers to be reliable?” Think of the adoptee’s very first experience of the world. Taken away from Mother, perhaps fostered temporarily by an agency employing multiple caretakers, finally placed with yet new strangers who would become the adoptee’s family. The adoptee’s life foundation is shifting sand!

In high school, when I first learned about Erikson’s developmental stages, I remember thinking to myself, “Oh great, I flunked the first one,” meaning that I’d failed the very first “test”- trusting. I later came to learn how accurate my reaction was- I had recognized that a shaky sense of trust was informing, and limiting, my life experience. Since the resolution of each developmental stage affects the next, a ripple effect occurs. Each test is harder to “pass”. Developing self confidence, self esteem, identity, were all near-crippling tasks for me. As an adult I can appreciate how pronounced the stresses were for me compared to my not-adopted peers. But at the time, an abject sense of utter aloneness weighed on me on top of the trials of each stage. And I know that, although I’ve successfully navigated many gauntlets since then, challenges are ongoing.

If you’ve ever looked at Erikson’s “stages” (or if you care to take a look now), how do you respond to his ideas? Do they ring true? Does this fellow-adoptee help frame the process of growing and living in a way that’s helpful or validating for you?