A New Generation

A conversation with a counsellor friend of mine yesterday has my inner-wheels turning. She was remarking that in recent interactions on adoption with 5 young (~17-22) adoptees, she observed a markedly different "comfort level" than that she has seen in those of my generation (40's).

The chats my friend was having with the adoptees weren't counselling sessions, so their scope was narrow. But the little corridor she was able to experience could be compared like this; as a teen, if asked about my sensibility on being an adoptee, I may have (and did) said something like "I'm glad she gave me up!" The vibe that went with the proclamation was anger, denial, and protectiveness of my adoptive parents and my membership in their family. Today, when these young adoptees were asked about their "adoptedness," they exuded calm as they expressed- "It's what she needed to do. I'm ok with it."

My counsellor friend's speculation is that that the difference is related to the absence of stigma in adoption today. We're both left wondering what this generation's experience will be 10, 20 years from now, if or when they become "searchers," and what reunion experience might be like for them. "Reality" takes such shifts from one generation to the next. I'm left wondering to what extent I, or my generation, can be helpful to the next in their quests for their truths.

Mother and Child

The film "Mother and Child" is available to rent now. It's a layered look at adoption- characters include 1st Mom, adoptee, relinquishing Mom, and adopting couple. Perhaps that the stories were so spread around is the reason I was emotionally able to get through it. (Or perhaps I should be thanking my defense mechanisms.) Whatever the case, it helped me to cry- which I can rarely do- and it was helpful. I'd recommend the movie for that reason.

Adoptees, be prepared. The adoptee character is the most tragic.

Risk

I recently received a nice card from my Mother, who hasn't initiated a contact with me in several years. (I have contacted her during that time, usually once every 6-9 months.) Her words were really kind and she looks forward to chatting. She signed her name in its ethnic spelling (Ukrainian)- that felt like a little gift to me.

When I do talk to her, I want to ask about the spelling. I also have a mad urge to finally ask her something else... whether she ever considers telling her two sons (my full-brothers) about me. I don't think of this in terms of my own interests. I have such a sense of disconnect from even the idea of them that I don't have any urge to meet them really. But I am interested in it for her sake.

I hate thinking of my Mother living is such secrecy and shame. To my knowledge, she has a sister, two nephews/neices, and her mother, all of whom don't know her secret. I can't imagine the pain of it. It would take such courage to come out with the truth to loved ones, and others. What a huge risk. But in my head I keep hearing what Joe Soll (author, "Adoption Healing") says- "We all can handle the truth." Next, I think of my philosophy about how the fear of a change is always worse than the change itself. My dearest wish for my Mother is that she could free herself from guilt. She doesn't need to be guilty. And I need her, and guilt is holding her back.

What will I actually ask about when I finally talk to her? I never know. Hopefully more than the weather.

Strange Humor from "LOLcats" Site

Twins

Today I became aware of a news story about a young married couple who filed for annulment upon learning that they were siblings separated at birth. A therapist commented, "This is a terrible trauma for them. They lost each other as babies and now they have lost each other again. They have been bereaved twice."

It's hard to imagine being in such a situation. The article brought two things to my mind. First is my favorite anthropologist, Marvin Harris, and his writings on incest taboo in his book "Our Kind." The second is the movie "Lone Star." Without saying more, I thought I would mention these sources for those who might be interested. Hope those who check either out will share their thoughts.

Coming Home to Self

Working my way through Nancy Verrier's "Coming Home to Self." Naturally, lots to think about and work on, and in the midst of it, an epiphany. The thing that has struck me is this thought, phrased quite simply- "I can't believe I've lived without a mother like this, and for so long. How did I even do it?!"

I'm putting down the book to reflect on this for a few days.

Coming Home to Self

Each evening during the Adoption Crossroads conference (this past month), conference organizer Joe Soll hosted an informal hospitality suite which, wonderfully, was attended by several of the conference presenters. Attending a social hour amidst those guests (such as authors) who have been so influential for me felt strange at first- a little like being amongst celebrities or superheroes or something. But the reality of where I was quickly revealed itself. I was amongst a group of strong individuals of great tenderness. People who understand that the greatest courage is in allowing onesself to be vulnerable.

One evening it was my honor to introduce myself to Nancy Verrier, author of "The Primal Wound." Her book changed (or maybe even saved) my life, and while I knew she had probably heard that statement countless times, I had to tell her for myself. We visited and, like a sponge, I soaked in Nancy's gentle spirit and her empathic kindness.

Upon returning home from the conference it occured to me that for all of the adoption-related books I've read, I had not read Nancy's second book, "Coming Home to Self." I notice that I'm reading it differently than "The Primal Wound." The difference seems to have something to do with a heightened sense of "you are not being alone." I hadn't anticipated this at all, but it does make sense. Having met the author, the experience feels more interpersonal. A most unexpected gain from attending a conference.