Category: Adoptive Father

Chapter 3. Corn Fields for Days – Finding Purpose In The Pain, One Adoptees Journey from Heartbreak to Hope and Healing, An Audible Memoir By Pamela A. Karanova

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Chapter 3.

Corn Fields for Days by Pamela A. Karanova

Trigger Warning // Childhood Sexual Abuse

It was Friday at 5PM, it was time to head to Dunkerton, where Thomas and Laura lived, along with Mark, Max, and Mike. It was an hour each way from Patricia’s house in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. They lived in a house in the country, literally smack dab in the middle of cornfields that surrounded our small cul-de-sac with a few other houses.

Thomas worked at John Deere’s, and my interactions with him were pleasant most of the time. He was a hard worker and was dedicated to taking care of his family and doing what he had to do to put food on the table. At times, his commute to and from work was an hour each way, and even in the cold, brutal Iowa winters, he did what he had to do to provide for his family.

He took pride in taking us on summer vacations and loading us up in the big blue van with the pop-up camper. We went to Disney Land, The Grand Canyon, The Petrified Forest, Wisconsin Dells, and The Queen Mary. In addition, we frequented many campgrounds around the USA. My favorite was always Jelly Stone Park.

The big blue van with the pop-up camper.

Before she met Thomas, Laura worked part-time at a local gas station and had the three boys with different dads. Once they married, Thomas raised my three stepbrothers as his own. Laura worked off and on over the years. We never talked about God or prayed before meals, but on Sundays, Laura and Thomas would sometimes drop us off at the local catholic church but would never stay themselves.

Laura had an aura about herself where I never felt a “motherly” love from her; instead, I felt like she was cold as ice towards me. There was nothing warm and fuzzy about her, not as far as I was concerned anyway. We were never close or connected, and she was always around, which stood in the way of me ever having any one-on-one time with Thomas. I don’t ever remember us having 5 minutes of father/daughter time together in all my life. And to be completely honest, I don’t know much about Thomas because he wasn’t a talker.

Melanie and I didn’t have chores at Thomas’s house because our visits were only a weekend in length, creating what felt like a free pass. The visits with them were much different than our home life with Patricia. Thomas and Laura’s house was usually kept clean, dinner was always ready around 5 PM, and I didn’t have to sneak outside and play. There was a structure here, which I knew nothing about at Patricia’s. Most of the time, chaos was at a bare minimum, but I wasn’t around much either. I heard some stories about Thomas being tough on the boys and calling them sissies for wanting to play sports. This never made me feel good that they were treated this way, actually the opposite.

The Brown House in Dunkerton, Iowa

The boys each had their own rooms in the unfinished basement, and Melanie and I shared a room for a long time. Believe it or not, Melanie and I rarely fought at Thomas and Laura’s like we did at Patricia’s. The ring leader and middle man spinning the drama were nonexistent, so things were pleasant.

At one point, as a way to separate Melanie and me as we got older, they created a small “room” for me, which was a closet that fit my twin bed and dresser in it. They hung up sheets from the ceiling to block off the area to create privacy. It was tiny; however, it was the first time in my life I had a space I could call my own. Because of this, I didn’t think twice about it being in a closet.

At Thomas’s house, I could ask to go outside, and most of the time, they said the most prized words that I longed to hear at Patricia’s house, “Have fun!” or “BYE!” I would take off flying out the door and enjoy the freedom every child should have without the sneak effect hanging over my head.

Mike was a year older than me, he enjoyed wrestling in school, and he loved the Dungeons and Dragons game. He was a fun kid and always enjoyed our company when we visited from Cedar Rapids for the weekend. We have some great childhood memories together.

Max was always the favorite of Thomas and Laura. He was three years older than me. He loved Motley Crew, Ozzy Osborne, and Guns N Roses. He was popular in school and seemed to receive favor everywhere he went. However, he was a rebel and seemed to get in trouble more than any of us. He was arrested first and wrecked a car first, but he was still everyone’s favorite.

Mark was five years older than me, so when I was 5, he was 10. There were always some peculiar things about him, like the fantasies he created in his mind about creating another world and his own government named after him. He had a strange personality, and I always felt it from him. He was also in and out of psychiatric hospitals his entire juvenile and early adult life. It ended up being that he came out of the closet as gay, and I am sure that was a difficult journey for him to navigate.

All three of my stepbrothers detasseled corn in the summertime, and that was a tough job. They would remove the immature pollen-producing tassels from the top of the corn, laying them on the ground on by one. They would get up at the crack of dawn and go to the pick-up site to head out to the cornfields for the day. When they returned home, they were bright red from the sun beating on them each day. One thing was for sure, detasseling corn wasn’t for sissies!

I will never forget Mike screaming frantically one evening while running through the woods shouting, “A wild bore is chasing me! Hurry! Run fast!” The reality was that it was dinner time, and he was trying to round us up to get inside! We would play hide and seek in the cornfields or the woods. In Wintertime, we would create igloos and play king of the mountain with the heavy snowfall we received in Iowa.

At some point around the age of five, Mark started to groom me to do sexual favors for him. He was a kid at ten years old; however, I have memories of these interactions up to me being 10-11 years old, where he would have been 15 to 16 years old and old enough to know better! So while things with Laura and Thomas seemed to be better than with Patricia, I lived with this childhood sexual abuse keeping it to myself until I ended up in therapy again at 18 years old, and this was the first time it all came out.

Until then, my lips were sealed because Mark told me not to share it with anyone or else! By the time I reached 12 years old, I had stopped wanting to visit Thomas and Laura because of these activities. When they asked why I didn’t want to come anymore, I didn’t give a definite reason. I kept that secret from all, just like Mark instructed me to do.

L-R Melanie, Max, Pamela, Mark, Mike – In the photo, look how far away I am from Mark, look at his hand, and look at my face. This was only the beginning!

At times, someone in the house did something wrong, and Thomas and Laura would punish us all. For example, we were told to get down on our hands and knees on the basement floor, and while we all five lined up, they beat our asses with a belt one by one. This was terrifying and painful.

We returned home, and Patricia saw that we had marks on our bodies from the belt. She let Thomas and Laura know that we would never return until they agreed to never use a belt on us again. They finally agreed, and after a pause in visits, our visits to Dunkerton would resume.

Thomas and Laura never spoke negatively about Patricia in front of us girls. On the contrary, I always appreciated this because that was the opposite of what Patricia did. It was almost as if she wanted to sow seeds of discord. She did an excellent job at it; however, I would ultimately lose respect for her because she continuously attempted to put a wedge between Thomas and us girls. I put him on a pedestal because he always showed up to pick us up and he took us on vacations and to fun places.

I would run off to frolic in the cornfields, which seemed never-ending. We also had the woods not far where I would have the freedom to run wild until dinner time. No one knew that my escape into nature would be a healing place for me. I was free from Mark and Patricia’s toxicity, and I could pretend the forest was my home. My imagination would run wild by being able to run amongst the forest and the trees. I never wanted to leave.

Freedom always reigned for me outside amongst the trees. We had one substantial gigantic tree outside our house across the street. I climbed to the top and would reach up and touch the sky, and in my mind, I was touching the only close thing I had to my birth mother. I knew she was under the same sky I was, and I longed to be closer to her. So I would hang out at the top, dreaming of her. It was like the sky was my baby blanket growing up, and it made me feel closer to my birth mother, when the reality was I had no idea who she was or where she was. Was she looking for me? Was she thinking of me? I knew it was a matter of time before she returned for me.

I never spoke to Thomas or Laura about knowing I was adopted; however, I know my three stepbrothers knew. I know this because they would get upset with Melanie or me for something; they would shout, “You aren’t our REAL family” or “Blood is thicker than water!.” They would also make fun of us because our city smelled nasty, so they would hurl insults at us from time to time. “They were kids!” shouts the world. Yes, this is true, but it was mean-spirited, and it stuck, especially being adopted.

Little Pammy on the basement steps at the brown house in Dunkerton.

I loved being able to escape into nature and consider that piece of my childhood an essential aspect of why I am the person I am today. Mother Nature was always there even when my earthly mothers didn’t hold up to the expectations I deserved! As early as I can remember, I felt more connected to the trees and the woods than I did any of the people in my life, especially running around barefoot with no shoes on. That was my jam. I loved to get dirty and wet and play in the mud and rain. I had little fear!

I never cared for Laura much and didn’t feel close to her. She was deceptive multiple times and lied to Thomas and us about being a smoker. Even though she let us see her smoke, she wanted us to lie for her to Thomas. She also stepped outside the marriage with Thomas. As a result, I lost respect for her and had little love for her, and felt the coldness in her aura towards me. She also favored Max, and because of this, all the rest of us felt like red-headed stepchildren. And in my case, the adopted red-headed stepchild. Favoring kids destroys kids.

It was Sunday in the blink of an eye, and it was time to go back to Patricia’s house. We wouldn’t see or hear from Thomas or Laura for two weeks. We never kept in touch between the visits or spoke on the phone. They never knew how school was going or what we were up to sports-wise, or activities we completed like dance recitals or plays. I never remember conversations on life lessons at all. They just showed up for the court-ordered visits, every other holiday, and a vacation in the summer.

Thomas was always far away, and because of this, sadly, I don’t feel like I ever had a close relationship with him or a relationship at all. He wasn’t around when Patricia was amid her meltdowns, and world war three was happening inside Patricia’s home. I was dying to know details about the divorce from his perspective. How do you marry someone, adopt two daughters, get divorced a year later and move to another city, and re-marry a year later? Did he know how emotionally unstable Patricia was? If he did, why did he leave us with her?

It would be years before I would get up enough nerve to ask Thomas to get to the bottom of this. But eventually, I would learn the truth from his perspective, and it was a hard pill to swallow. After reality set in, sadly, the pedestal I put him on my whole life changed to a different reality. One that I wasn’t expecting to learn. But ultimately, even when it hurts, it’s the truth that sets us free.

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Adoptees, Why Did Your Adoptive Parents Adopt You?  

Published on by Pamela A. Karanova3 Comments

I write about the difficult dynamics in adoption, the ones no one wants to talk about. As I have emerged from the fog of adoption, I’ve learned that not all adoptees are adopted for the reasons most people think they are. So what was the reason your adoptive parents adopted you? What were you told, and did it align with the truth?

Society paints a picture that adoptees are taken in when their biological families don’t want them. Their adoptive parents have taken on this responsibility to parent another person’s child to provide a safe and loving home for the child. The adoptive parents are then seen as heroes and often take on the superior attitude of saving an unwanted child from a life of despair. White savior complex sits front and center on many occasions regarding adoptions today. There is an underbelly to these false realities.

However, this is the opposite contrast of what many adoptees feel while we navigate life on the other side of the coin. For many of us, over years of our lives, we learn the truth about why we were adopted, and it opens up a level of understanding for each of us. We’re told we were chosen, and most of the time, we believe it. It’s a cushion to soften the blow of the realities about adoption. The chosen baby theory makes people feel better, even when it’s not true.

I am here to share the truth that most of the time, when a baby is adopted, the reasons they were separated from their biological mothers isn’t usually a pretty story. We must share this reality to stop setting adoptees up for the life-altering disappointment when they discover the truth. The separation trauma is traumatic enough, and we don’t have to add more lies and secrecy to it by using the chosen baby theory. I will be writing more about the chosen baby theory soon.

It’s rare for someone to choose to take on the responsibility of parenting another person’s child, with it being the first option. People generally want to have their own biological children FIRST, before adoption is ever spoken of. This means adoption is likely the LAST option vs. the chosen one. If you think your adoptive parent’s hand-picked you out of a line of babies, I can guarantee you this is a false narrative spun by the adoption industry. It’s part of the propaganda they sell to dress adoption up and hide what it truthfully is. The truth is, they took the next baby in line.

My adoptive mom was infertile. She couldn’t have kids of her own. So instead of healing from this significant loss and accepting those were the cards she was dealt, she adopted! I carried the load of her struggles with infertility my entire life. Somehow I remember saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” more than anything. She never healed from the divorce or her infertility struggles. I was the prime target of her emotional and mental outbursts and my adopted sister. Our adoptive father divorced her, left us, and moved away even when he knew she couldn’t take care of us. It was no secret that she was mentally ill. From an early age, I was her caretaker. I rubbed her back, put lotion all over her body, cleaned her room, changed her bedding. I ran her bath water, brushed her hair, cut coupons for her, cleaned the whole house, and the list could go on.

I started to learn in my early teens that my adoptive mother had a fear of going to a nursing home in her older age. She talked about this in my childhood many times, and by my teen years, it was very apparent to me that she had significant issues with going to a nursing home. As I started to connect the dots on this, and I experienced a life of hell in this home, it is evident that she adopted 1. Because she couldn’t have offspring of her own. 2. She didn’t want to go to a nursing home in her old days. These reasons are far-fetched from wanting to provide a loving and caring home to a child in need.

Another highlight about this reality is that our relationship was very strained my whole life, especially as I grew into my adulthood. She tried to convince me to be her power of attorney when I was 38 years old. When I was 38 years old, I was the single parent of a new 18-year-old high school graduate. I also had twins that were in 9th grade. I had my hands full to take on this responsibility, and I declined. If we had a healthy relationship and if she wasn’t abusive my whole life, I might have considered it. However, she went straight for my fresh out of high school 18-year-old daughter when I declined.

My daughter was barely out of high school, yet when she asked her and pursued her to be her POA. She was applying to colleges and ready to start her life as an adult. So why would she want to dig her claws in my daughter in this way? Because her plan with me backfired. I cared for her and catered to her my entire life until I finally broke free in 2005. I packed up a UHaul, all my belongings, my kids and moved across the country to escape her. It was the hardest thing I ever did because when you are adopted, you then step into a space of having no family and, in this case, no mother. I didn’t have one anyway, but we started our life over. I had no place to live, no job, no money, no car, and no keys TO ANYTHING.

I did this not only for my kids to have a better life but also for myself. So I could start the healing process from all my adoption experience has caused. I have come to life little by little, and today I’m thriving. However, this doesn’t mean that I haven’t been hurt by the reality of why my adoptive mom adopted me, to begin with. I see right through her intentions. It would be easier to believe the fairytale narrative; however, my life’s experiences won’t allow me to believe this.

I am not saying that some adoptees aren’t adopted for pure reasons, but I know I am not the only one who has figured out I was adopted to fill the void a biological child would have brought to my adoptive mom and her adopting for her wants and needs. It’s almost like I feel like a pawn in a game I never agreed to play. Unfortunately, because of this and all the abuse and lies she inflicted on me my entire life, we were estranged for several years before she passed away.

I’m curious about the experiences of my fellow adoptees? Do you feel like your adoptive parents adopted for “the right reasons?” whatever that looks like to you? Or do you feel there was another reason or even several? How has this made you feel?

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Thanks for reading and listening,

Love, Love.

*The views and opinions expressed in this article and podcast are that of the author, Pamela A. Karanova. Reproduction of the material contained in this publication may be made only with the written permission of Pamela A. Karanova.

The Raw Resentment I Have Carried for Most Adoptive Parents and What Changed – An Adoptees Perspective

Published on by Pamela A. Karanova3 Comments

Yep, I’m going there. I write about the difficult dynamics in adoption, the ones no one wants to talk about.

But before I do, I’m not here to throw my adoptive parents under the bus for what they did or didn’t do wrong. At this point, that’s water under the bridge for me.

I’ve said for many years that Adoptive Parents aren’t my gift. They aren’t in my arena of life, and I have purposely set things up to keep most of them out of my space for mental health and self-care reasons.

I seem to clash with them, and I have carried great fury toward them over the years. Adoptive parents have been the hardest for me to manage out of all the people in the adoption constellation.

Why?

My experiences with most adoptive parents have been primarily online, and they haven’t been positive experiences. 99.9% of the time, they don’t have the willingness to want to learn or listen to what adoption feels like from an adult adoptee’s perspective. Online I’ve found them to be damaging, dismissive and emotionally abusive.

Anytime I have tried to share, they end up making it about them and why they adopted, to begin with, their infertility issues, and all they have sacrificed to adopt the child they have. So it’s always about them, and this saddens me.

If I’m being transparent, it MADDENS ME.

They don’t have to listen to me for me, but I think of all their adopted kids who could experience the pain I once did and that so many adoptees experience growing up. Unfortunately, the adoption agencies, adoption attorneys, and adoption officials aren’t telling them the truth. So if there were any way I could help the adoptive parents understand the adoptee’s experience more profoundly, I would be happy to do that when time permits.

I believe adopted adults hold the keys to understanding all the heartache and heartbreak adoptees experience after separation from their biological mother. We also understand life as the adoptee experience. A group of 10 adoptive parents can gather to talk about their adopted kids, but they will never understand the layers and complexities that an adult adoptee can share. We understand the grief, loss, and trauma because we’ve sat in it. We live it each day.

I need to be transparent. My motivation is more for the adoptee because they are the community I pour my heart and soul into. So with that, if networking with the adoptive parents will bring some healing and clarity, I will try, but only if they are willing to listen and learn.

I learned a hard lesson in 2015, about five years after coming out of the fog. When adoptive parents didn’t want to receive the message, I would insert my views, experiences, and words into conversations with adoptive parents online. Then, they would shut me down and silence me, and I would become worked up. I can’t even begin to describe the anguish and emotional triggering I put myself through because interactions online like this happened repeatedly. It seems easy, but it was excruciating when I put myself in these situations!

Until one day, I woke up. Then, I realized I had the power to excuse these frustrating interactions from my life altogether. I learned that the only way my message would be received was if the person was willing to receive the message I wanted to share! Wow, this was a game-changer for me. But, to be completely honest, this isn’t only in the adoption arena.

This is with every area of life.

Once I learned that a small number of adoptive parents wanted to hear from the adult adoptee’s perspective to understand their adoptive child better, things started to shift for me. The small number of adoptive parents I have had significant positive interactions with have given me the hope that some adoptive parents out there have the willingness in them to listen and learn. They genuinely want to try. Thank you for your willingness. I’m sure there are plenty of adoptive parents who want to listen and learn, I just haven’t met them. I actually wrote an article about this one time in 2014 called, Just Listen, That is All.

I realized I was selling myself short when communicating and speaking to adoptive parents. However, the small number of interactions I have had, mostly in real life, have been positive, meaningful, and life-changing. In addition, I have had 1 to 2 positive experiences online with adoptive parents who have reached out to me about advice that have been positive interactions.

While the positive experiences are far and few between, I have chosen to put my mental health first and no longer insert my opinion or experience to adoptive parents online unless they seek me out first. When they come with open hearts and minds, I will consider engaging. I wrote an article about this one time.

When Adoptive Parents Have the Willingness to Listen,

With this, I have been able to shift little by little regarding my feelings towards adoptive parents, and because of these positive experiences, I hope things are changing for the better, but we still have a long way to go. So today, I set boundaries and refuse to allow much of my time dedicated to APs because it takes time away from my commitment to adoptees. Wasting time with anyone who doesn’t have the willingness to listen and learn is something I will no longer do. So, I took my power back. If this article resonates with you, I encourage you to do the same.

If you are an adoptive parent, do you have the willingness to have hard, yet truthful conversations with adult adoptees? Do you feel they hold a special value to the adoptee experience? If you have had conversations with adult adoptees, what has that experience been like for you?

If you are an adoptee reading this, what has your experience been like with communicating with adoptive parents? Have you had mainly positive experiences, or have they been similar to mine?

Why do you think adoptive parents are so triggering to many adoptees? If they have been triggering to you, as they have me, is there been anything that helps you navigate these experiences?

Don’t forget this article along with all my other articles are available in audio for your convenience, just look up Pamela A. Karanova Podcast on Google Podcasts, iTunes , Spotify. and Amazon Music. Interested in treating me with a coffee, to add fuel to my fire? Click here. Many thanks in advance to my supporters!

Thanks for reading,

Love, Love.

*The views and opinions expressed in this article are that of the author, Pamela A. Karanova. Reproduction of the material contained in this publication may be made only with the written permission of Pamela A. Karanova

Adoptees are Paying the Price for Adoptive Parent Infertility Compacted with AP Fragility

Published on by Pamela A. Karanova13 Comments

It is not enough to lose your biological mother at the beginning of life. Still, adopted individuals also must live up to unrealistic expectations set upon us by society and our adoptive parents. We must fit in the shoes of the fantasized biological child our adoptive parents would have had; could they have had children of their own. They have big plans for us like most parents have for their children.

News Flash: We can’t fit into those shoes or that role. It’s impossible. I’m very sorry for your loss, but its not my job to fix it or make up for it. I shouldn’t have to carry that burden. However, adoptees continue to be presented as a clean slate when we meet our adoptive parents’. Every one of us has a [his]-story & a [her]-story before we’re adopted, and it’s a critically important part of US.

I’ve experienced in my journey and learned by listening to my fellow adoptees that, more times than not, our adoptive parents have never fully healed from the unsettling truth that they couldn’t have children of their own due to infertility issues.  This causes significant problems for the adopted child because we will never live up to the expectations as if we were a biological child, but this demand is high. When healing hasn’t happened first, it can be a disaster in the home.

We’re born experiencing immense trauma by being separated from our biological mothers. This separation trauma impacts every area of our lives showing up as grief, loss, C-PTSD, abandonment, rejection, anger, rage, addictions and so much more.  The weight the adopted child feels and carries into adulthood is tremendous alone. Still, it’s compacted by the expectations set upon us to be something or someone we aren’t by our adoptive parent’s expectations. This weight carries on into adulthood and impacts every area of our lives. 

When our adoptive parents have significant unhealed issues with the loss of not having children of their own, it surfaces in every area of the home.

In my story, I remember my adoptive mom never being well, and she was always taking pills. When I was a child, I didn’t understand what was going on, but now I know “never being well” was depression, pill addiction, and manic depressive suicidal episodes. The depression was rooted in untreated mental illness, the aftermath of not being able to have children of her own, and marrying and adopting two daughters, only to divorce one short year later. I was told she wasn’t capable of parenting one adopted child, but somehow she ended up divorced, alone with two adopted daughters.

A glimpse of my childhood consisted of me being my adoptive mom’s caretaker. She was abnormally emotional every day and cried daily, saying repeatedly she wasn’t worthy of being a mother. I was the comforter and “Good adoptee.” I would sit with her on the edge of the couch and comfort her by rubbing her back and saying, “It’s okay, mommy, I’m sorry, mommy, It’s okay.” I must have said, “I’m sorry,” 100X a day sometimes. I remember being sad all the time and wanting her to stop crying. She never did, but when she wasn’t crying, she was sleeping in the daytime, and she also had a compulsion of wanting to threaten to commit suicide in front of us, which she frequently did. Learning and focusing in school was impossible most days, because I was I was riddled with anxiety and fear day in and day out.

Is it possible her infertility issues were the root of her behaviors? Being 46 years old and evaluating my childhood, I would suggest so. I don’t have the definite answers because she never got help for those issues; she adopted to fill the void instead. It was my responsibility as far back as I could remember to take care of her, cater to her, and be there for her. I was a slave to her.

I’ve recently discovered that I’m a people pleaser, and this characteristic was developed early in my childhood as a direct reflection of wanting to make my adoptive mom happy. I did everything I could think of to bring her happiness, and in the end, I always fell short. A co-dependent relationship was created, but I had no choice in the matter. I felt trapped in this cycle of co-dependency for most of my life due to my adoption experience.

Where was I going to go?

How was I going to get out?

It was all I knew.

I recall my entire childhood was focused on ways to make my adoptive mom happy, at the expense of my childhood happiness. Everything was all about her. I felt like a child servant with a list of tasks to complete daily, and most of them were centered around making her happy. I was brushing her hair, putting makeup on her face, massaging her arms, legs, and back with lotion, filing paperwork for her, cutting coupons, cleaning far beyond everyday routine childhood chores. I was never able to be a kid in this home. My feelings were never validated, nor were they important. Her adoptive parent fragility reigned supreme over all things in this household.

Please understand that this didn’t stop in childhood. It only stopped when I packed up a 22 Foot U haul and left this toxicity. I moved across the country with my three young children at 31 years old. It felt like an escape, and I have never looked back or regretted my decision but it hasn’t come without more heartache.. When I arrived back in Kentucky, I had no job, no car, no money, no home, no place to live, and no keys to anything. Thankfully my twin’s grandmother was kind enough to let us use a bedroom, where we all 4 stayed for the next few months to get on my feet. Little by little, I made a way for my children.

This escape didn’t come without a cost. Unfortunately, it’s taken me 15+ years to recover, and I’m still recovering daily. It’s going to be a lifelong process for me, as it is most adoptees/relinquishees.

My adoptive moms’ actions throughout my childhood and lifetime caused significant damage that has radiated throughout my life course. When I left at 31, I had to sever ties for my mental health, but it wasn’t before I tried to set boundaries first. She overrode every boundary I asked of her, which were simple things like please put your pills away. I asked her to please not cry around my kids. I asked her please not talk negatively about me behind my back to my children. She broke everyone, so I cut all contact. She was not going to do to my children what she did to me. Moving across the country and cutting ties was the only option.

It was the hardest decision I ever made.

Being groomed to put my feelings aside and caretake to her and her feelings have been a pattern I have picked up into adulthood. I put everyone else ahead of myself, and I never learned how to say “no” or even have an opinion about anything. This has caused me a lot of problems in relationships and my personal space and life. Caretaking is something I was conditioned to do from a very early age; it’s no wonder I am a caretaker by career and have been for 15+ years. This role wasn’t healthy for me as a child, and it’s not healthy for me as an adult.

I was forced to pretend, and I ended up being a professional at this game of make-believe. Better yet, I was conditioned to assume the role of expectations from a very early age. In this game, I learned early that my true feelings of grief, loss, and sadness from the loss of my biological mother and families’ weren’t welcomed. If I shared them, I took the chance I might hurt my adoptive parents’ feelings.

With my adoptive mom crying daily, sometimes hourly, having mental health episodes, she was likely already hysterical. My feelings of sadness would only add to this problem. I learned to keep things inside locked away. I learned my feelings weren’t important, and they didn’t compare to her outbursts. The safest place for them was to pretend like they weren’t there. I think I learned to disassociate and became a professional at it as a survival technique. There was a split created between the real true me, and the me she needed me to be.

As an adult, trying to recover from this childhood, I have done countless healing exercises to help myself try to make sense of it all and heal. One of the things I did was put myself in her shoes to try to gain a better understanding of why she was the way she was.

Untreated mental illness has always highlighted itself in a way that I’ve put it at the top of the list of why she was the way she was. I didn’t understand this as a child, but It’s more than evident mental illness is front and center when her suicide attempts of laying in the middle of the street play like a repeated movie scene in my mind from my childhood. She was sick, but I didn’t understand mental illness as a child.

I can’t help but wonder how my life would have been different if my adoptive parents had gotten some therapy for infertility issues before choosing to adopt. I think about it from time to time; although non of us get any “do-overs” in life, I sure would have benefited in a positive way to have a happy, healthy mother figure to think about in my lifetime. I blew it in this area not once, but twice. A total crap shot.

Instead, the trauma of her attempting suicide, her untreated mental illness, pill addiction, and her manic depressive episodes trump all the good memories there were.  Traumatic memories seem to have a way of showing upfront and center in our lives when we least expect it.

Over the years, I have heard countless stories from my fellow adoptees. They experienced similar childhoods and lives. Our adoptive parents adopted a child to replace their biological child they might have had if they didn’t have infertility issues, never healing from infertility issues first. It’s no secret in the adoptee community; we weren’t chosen. We were next in line.

This breaks my heart for my fellow adoptees because many of us didn’t stand a chance at having happy childhoods. There is nothing a relinquishee/adoptee can do to make up for the loss one feels who cannot have their own biological children. Nothing. Yet here we are, forced to fit into a role we can’t possibly fit into.

But we fake it until we make it, and we try because we have no choice. We learn to adapt, or we die trying. This sets us up for a lifetime of a false sense of self, never really knowing who we are or who we aren’t until we break away altogether. And some of us never make it to that place of self-discovery. Breaking away is difficult, if not impossible, for most of us. It’s no wonder adoptees are 4x more likely to attempt suicide. Look at the paradox we are forced to be in the center of.

The sensitivities around this topic echo throughout our lives. Many times it creates an adoptive parent fragility that adoptees are forced to be sensitive to. We’re groomed to put everyone’s feelings above our own, and it can and will create and a lifetime of struggles. 

It’s taken a lifetime to be able to look myself in the mirror and say, “You are important, and so are ALL of your feelings!” because no one ever did this for me growing up. My life was centered around her and her feelings. It was never about me.

I remember conversations with my adoptive mom way before I reached adulthood, where she wanted to make sure I knew she didn’t want to go to a nursing home when she got old. She also had talked about me being her power of attorney way before I was even an adult. It became evident to me at a very early age, and these were the reasons she adopted two daughters. She had a motive the entire time, and it wasn’t hard to piece it all together as I grew up.  

I never was and never will be the daughter my adoptive parents signed up for. I’m pretty sure I’ve turned out quite the opposite, to be honest. I’ve committed to spending the rest of my days trying to recover from this childhood of pain, not just for myself. For my kids, so they have a chance at seeing a happy and healthy mom, which I never had. Even on the days where I didn’t have the drive and motivation for myself, I do it for them.

Suppose you’ve made it this far, and you are possibly a prospective adoptive parent. In that case, I ask you to please consider intense emotional and psychological therapy before you even think of adopting a child. And then before you choose to adopt, visit pages like @askanadoptee and @howdoesitfeeltobeadopted and read and learn what adoption is like from an adoptee’s perspective. Ask questions on the Ask an Adoptee platform because one thing for sure, adoptees there will tell you the truth, even when it hurts. Have you accepted that relinquishment trauma is a real thing? Do you know anything about it? If you don’t you need to learn from adopted adults. We hold the keys of knowledge but you have to have the willingness to listen and learn.

If you are an adoptive parent already, I urge you to seek deep within ourselves to find out where you are in your recovery and healing with your infertility struggles.  Please do this immediately before you project your pain onto your adoptive child. Also, know that we never can and never will be what your biological child would have been. Unless you have accepted this, you still have work to do.

For my fellow adoptees, I’m so sorry for your pain and heartache. I’m sorry for the unrealistic expectations that have been placed upon you to fill the shoes of a child you were never meant to fill. I’m sorry you weren’t listened to. I’m sorry you haven’t felt your feelings are important as a child or an adult. Your feelings are important, and so are you. Can you relate to anything I have shared here? I would love to hear from you!

Don’t forget this article along with all my other articles are available in audio for your convenience, just look up Pamela A. Karanova Podcast on Google Podcasts, iTunes , Spotify. and Amazon Music. Interested in treating me with a coffee, to add fuel to my fire? Click here. Many thanks in advance to my supporters!

Love, Love.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are that of the author, Pamela A. Karanova. Reproduction of the material contained in this publication may be made only with the written permission of Pamela A. Karanova.

My Love For My Heartless Birthparents

Published on by Pamela A. Karanova6 Comments

I would give anything to be one of the adoptees who didn’t have any feelings about my birth parents. Why? Because then my pain wouldn’t be something I face on a daily basis, sometimes hourly. I would maybe be okay with being adopted?

I’ve learned all adoptees are different. Some of us are okay with not searching and never discovering our roots. Others need to know and they will never be okay unless they discover their truth. I would say on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being adoptees that are okay with their experience & not knowing their roots and 10 being those adoptees who have extreme issues with their adoption experience & not knowing their roots I’m way past a 10. Being adopted bothers me in every aspect. Now that I’m old enough to work through my emotions I’m experiencing and identifying REAL RAW FEELINGS. From 12-37 I used substances to numb my pain. I didn’t want to feel the emotions that go along with being handed over to strangers by the woman that should love me the most in life. Today, I’m thankful to be on a healing journey but sometimes the pain is unbearable. It’s hard to describe to non-adopted people. I would give anything to have a switch I could just shut off and not care about any of the things that bother me so much. I think because the things that bother me are so senseless and inhumane I don’t think any human should have to experience.  This means my VOICE is critical to the adoptee community, as is all the other fellow adoptees who share their voice. When God answered my prayers and made it possible for me to reunite and find all my biological family I made a promise to God, myself & all the adoptees out there. So many are lost searching to find themselves & their long lost families that I will never stop sharing how it feels to be adopted and offer support all the adoptees who feel hopeless and alone. I will never stop speaking about something that means so much to me. I will spend the rest of my days encouraging adoptees to use their VOICE in adoption. The VOICE that’s most often ignored.

I spent my entire childhood and most of my teen years fantasizing about them, specifically my birth mother. I always had her close to my heart. I dreamed of the day we would be reconnected again. I cried a million tears growing up not knowing where she was. I. I searched for her in my dreams, in grocery stores, at the gas station, walking down the street, at parks, the mall and everywhere else I traveled to. Of course I loved her. My heart loved her even when the world wanted me to forget all about her. I know I formed a bond with her before I was ever born, but the hope I had of an amazing reunion grew my love for her and some days that’s all I could think about.

After all,  “She loved me so much, she gave me away.” <–Explains My Adoptive Mom

Why wouldn’t I have love for her? It came natural to want her in my life. Everyone told me she loved me. So if she loved me, why wouldn’t she want me in her life when I did find her? What the  hell kind of LOVE is everyone talking about?  This messed me up and still has me messed up. A mother doesn’t LOVE their child and reject them after the child finds them. A mother doesn’t LOVE their child and give it away to strangers. That isn’t love. That’s abandonment & rejection in it’s rawest form.

The original abandonment and rejection I experienced before I found my birth parents was a tremendous amount of pain that never left me. Now, since finding both and being rejected by both my pain has been magnified a thousand times and the abandonment & rejection is so RAW that honestly I understand why so many adoptees commit suicide. (Read the stitistics!) This pain is no joke and in adoption the weak will NOT survive. I have so much respect for my fellow adoptees because the pain we face is so deep I believe we are the strongest people on the planet. I truly believe that!

Back to my topic…

My birth mother died about 18 years after us meeting just one time. She shut me out & lied to me. She promised she would send me letters, pictures, and cards in the mail and she never did. I waited on the mail my entire life!! Now I hate checking the mail & each time I do I get the deep sadness all over again that I wasn’t even worth a piece of mail to her. Even when she’s gone, I still wish I would magically open the mailbox and get just one letter she promised me. At least I would have something to keep that was from her. I know that’s complete nonsense to some people but I bet adoptees get it.  I wasn’t included in her obituary. This was horrible to experience. I didn’t count for anything in her life. But she loved me SO much? 

I’ve tried to take myself out of my shoes & put them in hers. I’ve tried to understand. What I gather from knowing what I know based off my experience is that my birth mother didn’t love me. She loved the idea of passing her mistake over to someone else. She loved that she didn’t have to be reminded daily of her actions of becoming pregnant by a married man. She could just pass me to strangers and never think twice about me again.  She didn’t love me because she drank alcohol the entire pregnancy. She loved alcohol, that’s what she loved. She never told me she loved me. She didn’t want a relationship with me. She didn’t include me in her obituary. Why was I so surprised?  One more fantasy to add to the life long list of fantasies adoptees have. I had a million & they were all rooted in speculation because I didn’t know my truth. This is only one aspect of adoption that messed my mind up. I read “The Girls Who went Away”. I totally get the aspect of things being totally different in the 50’s, 60’s & 70’s. But this had no waver on her rejecting me once I did find her. I also realize her pain may have been too great,  but if a mother “Loves” their child they will WANT them in their life. You can’t tell me any different.

After all I experienced w/ my birth mother and how her actions made me feel, I can honestly say if she appeared in front of my right now I wouldn’t do anything but run into her arms. I would give anything to get one real true hug from her.You know, the kid of hug a mother gives her beautiful daughter. I would give anything to hear her say “I Love You” just one time. That would mean that when I was told “She loved you so much she gave you away” it was true. Unfortunately I never received the confirmation she loved me at all. Today, I’ve learned to never go without telling those close to you that you love them. It maybe the only time they hear it and your last chance at telling them.

I’ve accepted the lie that was told to me, “Your birth mother loved you so much” was just that, a LIE.  I challenge ALL adoptive parents to be VERY CAREFUL in the words you use to share and explain things to your adoptive children. It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. Not all birth mothers love their babies!

I met my birth father 2 x. He didn’t accept me as his daughter even when I look just like him. He could care less who I am, where I live, or anything to do w. me or my life. He knew nothing about me until I showed up at his door at 37 years old. This hurts. But if he showed up here today, I would also go running to him and be ready for anything he was able to offer. I know this isn’t going to happen. I’ve given up. It still hurts like hell.

After I finally was able to feel my feelings & start a recovery program I put everything out on the table. I was able to draw my own conclusions & connect the dots to the missing pieces of my history. I had to fight like hell to get my answers! People lied to me, and the expense of YEARS of memories with my long lost family. In learning my TRUTH I was able to accept it and begin to heal. I know I can’t change the past but I will spend the rest of my time on earth sharing my experiences on how it feels to be adopted & reaching out to other adoptees so they know they aren’t alone.

My love for my birth parents will ALWAYS be there. I don’t care if someone told me they were drug addicts, who were horrible people! It should be MY CHOICE weather I have them in my life nor not. No one should take this decision from us… Sadly in my case, neither of my birth parents wanted me in their life. I also have a biological sister who rejected me. We clashed after meeting, and we share opposing views on adoption because she followed in my birth mothers foot steps and gave one of her own children up for adoption. She doesn’t understand me, and I don’t understand her. We have no relationship because of it.  It never ends & for the life of me I will never understand how parents reject their own flesh & blood. I’m thankful I was able to make my own choice in searching and was able to meet them each at least 1 x and gain a better understanding of MY HISTORY. MY STORY!

In this journey acceptance is key but it isn’t easy. The question is, how are adoptees supposed to accept something if they don’t know what it is? It’s impossible!  How are we supposed to HEAL if we have nothing to accept? We’ve been fed so many lies and shenanigans that most adoptees don’t have any idea what their truth is! This has caused me the most heartbreaking pain anyone could ever imagine. To wait my whole life to meet them and be left with nothing in the end. No time, no memories, no nothing. I truly believe everyone in life leaves you, especially when your own parents discard you like a piece of garbage. I live in constant FEAR of this & I hate it.

What have I done to feel like I’m controlling something in my life? I moved across the country away from ALL my biological & adoptive family, I changed my number, changed my name and as soon as my kids graduate I’ll be moving again… I’m hoping to be untraceable to those who once rejected me. They will never have a chance to hurt me again. To them I’m the LOST one.. They can spend the rest of their lives wondering where I am, how I am and what I’m doing. Amazing how that script is flip isn’t it??!!! Chances are they don’t care, but I needed to do this for myself. I needed to feel like I controlled SOMETHING in my life! Of course, I have ONE relationship out of my biological family reunion I’ve kept and that’s my biological brother. I’ve closed all the doors on the rest, every single one. I’ve found they are too painful. adoptees understand this. My biological brother is amazing! He’s been accepting and I love him for that. Now I’ll spend the rest of my life mourning all that was lost. I’m not at a place of acceptance with that yet! As for my adoptive family, I have a small handful of one step brother, cousins, 1 aunt, and my adoptive dad & his wife I have in my life. I hold them all close to my heart. There are more who have crossed me in some way and I’ve dismissed them from my life. I have no problems dismissing people who bring unhealthy relationships my way. That’s a deep aspect to being adopted, we’ve lost EVERYTHING so losing more isn’t new to us.. It’s just part of our life!

As #FlipTheScript in November comes to an end, I would like to challenge ALL ADOPTIVE PARENTS to please help your adoptive child find their truth. Please help us find our history. Please don’t make us feel bad or guilty for wanting to know where we come from. This is natural for a unnatural situation.

For all the birth parents out there… I would just like to say that if you’ve made the choice to cut your biological child out of your life please know you are hurting them more than anyone could ever imagine! Please seek help and reconsider. No matter what the circumstances “Were” there is nothing to be afraid of now. Things are different. If anything PLEASE TELL THE CHILD YOU SURRENDERED YOU LOVE THEM IF YOU DO LOVE THEM. No child in the world should have to go through life never hearing “I LOVE YOU” from either of their biological parents.

If you made it this far, can you relate to any of my blog post? How do you feel about your birth parents?  What are you on the scale of 1-10?

Blessings,
Pamela Jones
@freesimplyme
http://www.facebook.com/howdoesitfeeltobeadopted

Open Hearts and Open Minds, Adoptive Parents

Published on by Pamela A. Karanova4 Comments
I had an adoptive mom say to me on twitter yesterday, “I read your blog,
I know from personal knowledge that many adoptees do not share your issues.”
And I replied with “I know from personal knowledge many adoptees DO share my issues.” I don’t understanding why society is so blinded about the realities of adoption. My adoptee issues and pain are very real and I will continue to always share my feelings with the world to help raise awareness on how it feels to be adopted.
From this lady’s response to me, it leads me to believe she’s an adoptive mom or why would she care to comment? I find this comment to be disturbing. Half-truth, half lie? It was pointless to say the least. I find it appalling when an adoptive parent wants to stand up and speak about what adoptees go through when they are basing their opinion on their fantasy or what they wish their adopted child felt. The truth is, more than likely their adopted child hasn’t grown up and developed their adoptee voice yet.  This means as a child they just might not have any issues, and for the lucky adoptees maybe they never will. I have been blogging about my adoptee experience for almost 2 years now and I’m fairly active in the online adoptee community. I have yet to experience an overflowing amount of “EXCITED TO BE ADOPTED ADOPTEES!”
I really believe that all the adoptees with a voice need to keep voicing their experience so that any adoptive parents that stumble across their blogs, or tweets, or Facebook pages can truly open their hearts up and learn something. It’s the AP’s such as the one above that are blinded and don’t see REALITY who are not going to learn and benefit from the adoptees who have been in the shoes of the very ones they are raising. Even if they don’t agree with what they are hearing about how it feels to be adopted, they should really open their heart and eyes and ears up to the fact that, WOW, MY ADOPTED CHILD COULD FEEL THIS WAY. Not, “I know for certain many adoptees don’t feel the way you do”  With an attitude like that there will be no hope for future adoptees and for society to understand there is much more to adoption than 2 people completing their family by adopting an unwanted, abandoned child.
The reality of adoption is that before a child is adopted their own mother gives them away. However this is explained to the child leaves the child confused. After all, how does one love something and give it away? This can very well lead to low self-esteem, abandonment & rejection issues and fear issues that everyone is going to leave them. These issues are ALL root causes of many types of dysfunctional behaviors and adoptees have a very large chance of facing any of these root causes. Weather any adoptive parents want to admit it or not. I think the real question should be, “How do I help understand my adoptive child better?” VS. “I know from personal experience many adoptees don’t feel like you do”.
Open your eyes and ears, and be receptive to what adoptees have to say, especially if you have invested in adopted children. Of all people you should have an open heart and mind. You can learn a lot from someone who has been in your child’s shoes. Especially those who have healed from the trauma that being given up for adoption by their own mother.
To be continued…