Category: Adoptive Mother

Chapter 18. Ulterior Motives – Finding Purpose in the Pain, One Adoptees Journey from Heartbreak to Hope and Healing, An Audible Memoir By Pamela A. Karanova

Published on by Pamela A. KaranovaLeave a comment

Chapter 18.

Ulterior Motives

My first task after arriving in Lexington was to find a job and a new place to live. Of course, with no car, that wouldn’t be an easy task; however, I knew I could do whatever I set my mind to do. Thankfully, I could transfer my housing assistance voucher back to Kentucky, which would help me escalate finding a place to live. I was so thankful for this resource; otherwise, I don’t know what I would have done.

Waking up in a new place with new circumstances was scary, but my detachment from Patricia gave me a zest for life that I had never experienced before. I was finally free, but now what? I knew deep down I had so much to recover from, 31 years of traumatic experiences, to be exact. But I put being a mom first and foremost, and my self-repair work seemed to be on the backburner.

The reality was that I changed my surroundings, but deep down, I still had my deep-rooted adoptee trauma brewing below the surface. Being a mom with so many responsibilities on my shoulders created an escape from dwelling on my adoptee/relinquishee trauma as much as I had in the past. However, it was always brewing. I was still a drinker, and alcohol was still my escape from not feeling.

While I started drinking daily around twelve years old, my drinking career was a non-stop part of my life except for my pregnancies with my kids. It was a habit, a way of life. The world celebrates everything with alcohol, and I was for the ride. But, even with new beginnings in Kentucky, old habits die hard. I was able to connect with old friends and make some new ones. The party life was still prominent in my life.

After a month and a half of being back in Kentucky, we found a new place to live, a three-bedroom duplex on Whispering Hills Drive. We moved in just enough time for the twins to start 1st grade at Southern Elementary school, and Keila started 5th grade at Southern Middle school. We lived about two blocks from both schools, which was an excellent setup for a single mom with no car.

A grocery store and Walmart were less than a mile away, and a city bus stop. So I learned how to take the bus around Lexington and took the bus from time to time when the kids had doctor’s appointments. I got a job at a local grocery store, but I wouldn’t say I liked the job, but it did help with expenses I had coming in.

In October of 2005, just three months after making the most challenging decision of my life, I was offered a position in the home health field caring for an elderly stroke patient who needed a home health caregiver. So I quit the grocery store, worked in the home health field weekly, and made more money than I ever had. This was nothing I had done before in a career, but being Patricia’s caretaker for 31 years and a mom to my kids, I had all the skills to easily step into this new role.

This position was within walking distance from our duplex, a lifesaver! I was able to get Medicaid for myself and the kids. We established care with new doctors for each of us and settled into our new life. The kids all started to make new friends at school and in the neighborhood, and our house would soon become a kid-friendly home and a safe place for kids to gather after school and on the weekends.

I never had any friends come over during my childhood, so this piece was essential to me so that my kids could have friends to stay with all night and spend as much time with as they wanted. I loved making my house kid-friendly and hosting get-togethers with my friends and my kid’s friends. We cooked out, had game nights, had big birthday celebrations for the kids, had Sunday dinners, and slowly our lives became fuller and more normal than they ever had.

The kids could experience sports in elementary school and in private leagues affordable for young, single moms, which is something Salt Lake City didn’t offer. So Damond started playing football, and Damia started to cheer and dance. Keila was in volleyball, and we were busy!

Around five months after arriving back in Kentucky, I saved up enough money to buy a car, and finally, I had transportation of my own, so I didn’t have to ask anyone for rides or take the bus. This was lifesaving because taking the bus in the winter with the kids was not a fun task.

I was amazed that I could never gain this type of momentum in my life with Patricia close to me, but within six months of choosing to move across the country without her, everything changed for the better. Finally, I was following my path instead of her path. I was paving my way instead of following her way.

Patricia and I spoke a few times on the telephone and occasionally shared an email, but our daily interactions were non-existent, which is exactly how I wanted it. I needed to detox from all interactions with her, and for the most part, that’s what I was doing until she started pressing me about coming to Kentucky to visit. This started happening about six months into our move, and of course, she said her primary intent was to see the kids; however, I learned otherwise.

I have always been thankful that my kids didn’t have to experience the full extent of Patricia as I did when I was growing up. However, this has been a challenging experience to navigate because they don’t fully understand the depths of why I made the decision I did to move away. They know bits and pieces but will never fully feel what I have felt my whole life due to my experiences with Patricia, and I am glad. But part of me wishes they could feel what I have felt for just five minutes, and then they would understand my decision better.

I am happy that they each have happy memories with her and will always have those happy memories to remember. My trauma with her is so significant that it overpowers any of the positives I experienced with her. However, I can take certain things about my childhood and use them for good, like my love for plants. Patricia had plants, and I think I started to care for them at a young age, and I now love plants. I was her caretaker for 31 years and am now a caregiver by career. But there is a big difference between a caretaker and a caregiver. I feel I was a caretaker to Patricia because I had to be, but now I am a caregiver by career because I want to be.

I want my kids to have good memories of her, so after about two years back in Kentucky, I agreed to let Patricia come to visit. I prolonged the visit as long as possible so we could get settled. I hoped she was somehow more normal and healthy than she had been when we departed, so in 2007 she flew to Kentucky for the first visit together since we left.

She arrived, and we picked her up. I hoped that she would be different and our relationship would be different. I was proud that she could see I could survive without her and that I was doing better than ever. I wanted her to see how happy I was and the kids were, but she never once acted or seemed happy that we were doing so well. She didn’t celebrate any of my independence because the reality was that my independence was leaving her narcissistic supply tank empty. Instead of getting better, she did the opposite and got worse.

I hoped she had found happiness in her personal life and put some effort into becoming happy and healthy without the co-dependent relationship between myself and my kids, which kept her alive.

So many hopes and wishes for something to change with Patricia, but she arrived, and reality set in quickly. First, of course, she showed up with all her pills which I hated, making me feel like she was dependent on them all. What was she even taking at this point? I had no idea, but I hated my kids seeing her taking all these pills and seeing her pills scattered all over my house! Then, she stayed up late and slept the day away, even visiting for less than a week. Couldn’t she pretend to be healthy for five days so my kids could see a happy, healthy grandma? That’s all I cared about at this point.

My lens on how I viewed her visit, different from how my kids viewed her visit, was apparent. While I am confident they enjoyed having a visit with her, I had a hard time navigating her presence in my life, even for a short visit. I once again felt like she had an ulterior motive, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

After two days of Patricia visiting, she wanted to have a conversation with me. She wanted me to know she was having heart issues and to ask me again if I would be her POA. She also set an idea on the table about moving back to Kentucky to be closer to the kids and me. I will be completely transparent, and I almost fell over.

By this time, her health issues were something I wholeheartedly feel she used to manipulate everyone around her. I am not saying she didn’t have health issues, but I never saw her put in work to make her health better; but back in my childhood, her health issues made me feel terrible! Like somehow, I was responsible for them. I had to disconnect from her neverending health problems long ago because I saw how she used them to make people feel sorry for her.

In 2007, it was a new day. I had to disconnect myself emotionally and mentally from all things to do with Patricia so I could survive. I had to put myself before her emotional, mental, and health issues and be her POA.

These conversations with her gave me great anxiety and fear. I hadn’t even started working on my deep-rooted issues yet because being a mom was my main priority, and here she is, wanting me to take on HER as a responsibility once again? I was nauseous and frozen, thinking about the possibility. After everything I had gone through to get away from her, and now this?

Patricia even went to the extent of asking me to drive her around to look for rental properties, and I refused. However, she was talking about places she could work, and it was apparent she was planning this in her mind.

Patricia started telling me how she and Melanie weren’t getting along, and Melanie mistreated and was mean to her. Once again, trying to stir the pot with Melanie and me even when I hadn’t talked to Melanie in years. She was trying to gain sympathy that she was being mistreated in Salt Lake City, which was why she wanted to move back to Kentucky. She was carefully building her case and wanted me to take the bait. She tried to be on her best behavior because she presented me with her plan to move back to Kentucky.

What I suspect happened is that Melanie was forced to play the caretaker role for once in her life as I did for 31 years, and she got a glimpse of how unhealthy and toxic Patricia was, and she started to set some boundaries with her. I am sure this created waves in both of their lives. Sadly, I knew what Melanie was going through because I was the only responsible party for Patricia for 31 years, but finally, I had to set some boundaries for myself. Now it was Melanie’s time to do the same.

There was again no way I was going to support Patricia moving back to Kentucky, and I told her so. But she came into town with all these motives that made me nauseous. Allowing her to visit was a long shot; anything else was out of the question. So my wall was up thoroughly when it came to letting Patricia back in my life.

I let her see the kids, but now that I learned she had an ulterior motive, my guard was 100% up with her. I was clear and to the point, and I let her know that she is NOT moving back to Kentucky, and if she tried, I would not support it at all, and likely I would move farther away with my kids.

Looking back, I think she was so obsessed with my kids and me because there were four of us, and she had four humans to work through to see who would be kind enough to keep her out of a nursing home in her old age. So I think that was always why she targeted my kids and me, and I saw right through it all.

Her greatest fear was going to a nursing home, but I had news for her. Suppose she made her way to Kentucky and tried to ruin the rest of my life; that’s precisely where she would find herself. It would be an escalated version of her nursing home stay. The more she showed me she was unhealthy and sick, the more I thought she needed to be at a nursing home.

I thought that if she made her way back to Kentucky and something happened to me, my kids would all be responsible for caretaking for her, and they would be sucked in in a way they couldn’t escape. I was mortified at the thought.

My hope that something would shift and change with her and me having a mother-daughter relationship was down the drain. She would never change; the sooner I accepted it, the better. Instead, I had to start grieving the loss of this false hope. I should have known better, but once again, I stick myself out there only to be let down as usual. I tried, but it would take me some time to heal from yet another encounter with Patricia.

I wanted her to be on her way back to Utah, and now my greatest fear was that she would somehow be stuck in Kentucky and be my responsibility again, which frightened me on every level.

The sooner she departed, the better! She had a chance to show up and be the healthy and happy mom I always hoped she would be, but she couldn’t do that. Instead, she had to show up with an ulterior motive that was selfishly centered around herself. Of course, she led everyone to believe she was coming to see her grandkids, but I knew otherwise. I couldn’t fathom that this was her main point in coming to Kentucky, to try again to convince me to be her POA.

Was this normal? At 33 years old at the time, I had never even thought about where I would be at the end of my life! I always feel that if my kids are in a position to care for me, the circle of life will organically circle back around. It will naturally happen. However, I have never had any expectation that they care for me in my old age, nor would I try to push this expectation on them as Patricia has me!

This was even more reason I wanted my kids to see a happy and healthy mom and one that was more “normal” than I had. While moving away, I wanted to believe that Patricia would get her own life and make friends. I hoped she would have more time to focus on finding herself and even starting new hobbies she loved now that she wasn’t babysitting my kids and had more free time.

The thought of Patricia making her way back to Kentucky to live made me completely panic. The fear of my kids having to experience what I did growing up and the older they got, they would be on the front line of Patricia’s emotional, mental, and physical outbursts and issues only convinced me more that I had to set more boundaries with Patricia.

But first, I had to get her back on Utah soil because as well as I knew her, I was waiting for her to throw herself into dire straights and end up in the hospital in Kentucky, and then I would be stuck with her. I could not let that happen, so I played my part until she left Kentucky.

This visit was such an emotional paradox for me. The kids didn’t know what I knew and didn’t experience what I did, so they were protected. That’s all I wanted was to protect my kids from all I had to experience with Patricia. Having Patricia back in Kentucky temporarily was eye awakening. I learned that no matter how badly I wanted a happy, healthy relationship with her as my “mom,” I would never get it.

I tried opening this door for a visit, but as soon as she left, I shut the door back and continued with my life. It would be a long time before I ever let her visit again.

Around 2008, I learned that Patricia was headed to Iowa to help care for her youngest sister, my Aunt Jeanette, who had recently learned she had breast cancer. She left all her belongings in Utah and was in Iowa City, Iowa, for several months. Based on our few conversations, she was unhappy in Utah, and she and Melanie weren’t getting along. I am positive Melanie confronted her on many of her unhealthy habits and toxic ways. Patricia knew she wouldn’t be able to manipulate Melanie into taking care of her when she was older and being her POA. At the time, she didn’t have kids to use as pawns for Patricia’s manipulation and games. Good for Melanie. I wish I could have set that in stone when I was growing up, but by this time, my life was likely half over, and I was stuck.

Since she couldn’t manipulate Melanie or me any longer, Patricia’s next plan was to transition back to Iowa, and this was precisely what she did. Patricia’s narcissistic supply was running dry, but she was fed just enough in Iowa to stay alive now she had nieces and nephews she could work on. And Iowa was closer to Kentucky than Utah. I knew her ultimate plan was to return to Kentucky; however, I also knew I had to play my cards right with her to stop this from happening.

I was never letting her move back to Kentucky! But soon, I would learn she was conversing with her old Lexington friend about moving back, the friend she had ties with when we moved here in 1991. So once I got wind of Patricia trying to make plans to move back to Kentucky, I reached out directly to her friend and gave her a piece of my mind.

I told her that while her intentions might be good, she needed to plan on being 110% responsible for Patricia in every single way, including being her POA. I told her how sick she was physically, emotionally, and mentally. I let her know I would not support her move, nor would I assist in any way regarding packing, driving, unpacking, etc. I would not be available for anything, and I had already been her caretaker for 31 years of my life. I was done, and she needed to know it.

At this point, I started to feel like Patricia was a little lady who appeared cute and wonderful to those who didn’t know the real her, but behind closed doors, she was a con woman. The history I had with her is what formed these conclusions. Seeing and knowing of all the interactions she not only had with me but with others, she came into contact with reinforced these beliefs. I can’t count how many people she reeled in with her sob stories over the years, only to take advantage of them and use them for her benefit.

While Patricia transitioned to living in Iowa, I kept my boundaries firm and learned to set new boundaries. Not only for myself but for my kids. Eventually, I would let her visit a few more times, but those visits would stop in 2015. I had finally reached the end of my rope.

I had no relationship with Melanie or many people from Iowa. But in November of 2010, I received an inbox message on Facebook from Joanna, my half-biological sister on my maternal side. I hadn’t heard from her in over a decade! I wonder what she wanted? So I opened her message and never expected to read what I did.

“Hi, Pam,

I am sorry it’s been so long. I wanted to let you know mom passed away, and I thought you should know. We have her funeral in a week, and I would love you to be there. Can you make it? I don’t think I can do it without you! So please let me know, and I will send you the arrangements soon. Love your sister, Joanna.”

Wow, just wow. I could hardly believe what I was reading. The saddest part for me wasn’t that Eileen died. It was that I lived my life every single day, grieving her as if she was already gone back to my beginnings. Knowing she left the earth sealed the deal for me. I knew I was never going to see her again. This helped me close the door and move on with my life. The open wound could finally heal.

No more hoping, wishing, dreaming that she would come back or change her mind about me. This was a powerful dynamic to my healing journey. This was it, and it was over. The end of all the internal torment I carried because she was alive but would rather die alone than have me in her life.

She’s dead. She’s gone—the end of Eileen, but not the end of my story. I was just getting started, and I was on my way to Waterloo, Iowa, for her funeral on November 9th, 2010. Little did I know that the next 48 hours of my life would change drastically, and my life would never be the same.

Facebook: Pamela A. Karanova

Don’t forget that I’m streaming my articles on several audio platforms for your listening convenience! 👇🏼

📱 iTunes – https://apple.co/3tKzT5f

🌎 Google – https://bit.ly/3JP6NY0

🎧 Spotify – https://spoti.fi/3Ny6h35

📦 Amazon – https://amzn.to/3JScoga

☕️– Buy Me A Coffee https://bit.ly/3uBD8eI

*The views and opinions expressed in this article, memoir, 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

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

Published on by Pamela A. KaranovaLeave a comment

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.

Facebook: Pamela A. Karanova

Don’t forget that I’m streaming my articles on several audio platforms for your listening convenience! 👇🏼

📱 iTunes – https://apple.co/3tKzT5f

🌎 Google – https://bit.ly/3JP6NY0

🎧 Spotify – https://spoti.fi/3Ny6h35

📦 Amazon – https://amzn.to/3JScoga

☕️– Buy Me A Coffee https://bit.ly/3uBD8eI

*The views and opinions expressed in this article, memoir, 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

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?

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 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.

Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother…

Published on by Pamela A. KaranovaLeave a comment

That word.

M. O. T. H. E. R.

Appears everywhere all the time.

MOTHER-MOTHER-MOTHER-MOTHER

I’m so sick of that word.

I HATE THAT WORD!

How does an adoptee feel on that day?

Mother’s Day?

Well, I certainly can’t speak for all adoptees but I can speak for myself.

Mother’s Day & the days leading up to it,  is a time of mourning for me.

How do you mourn what never was?

It’s simple.

Just like mourning what was, I mourn what never was. But usually what was has some memories for someone to hang on to.

Mourning what never was is a much deeper grief & loss…

For me anyway…

I’m writing about it!

Remember I’m only speaking for myself.

To celebrate Mother’s Day is a difficult task not only for me but for many people on earth. Many people didn’t get the mother’s they deserved or maybe they did and their mother’s have passed away and left them feeling hallow and empty with a loss they might never recover from.  We are each able to process our pain as we see fit.

Today I’m not drinking!

I’m WRITING!

It’s a mixed bag for me. I’ve tried to celebrate the fact that I’m a mother and I hope and pray I have been a better mother to my kids than what I was given in that area. For many reasons I don’t feel like I have given my kids what they have deserved because how can I give them something I don’t have? Something that was never given to me?

I try.

Everyday, I try.

But parts of me are hollow inside.

MOTHER LESS

I’m just floating through life doing the best I can with what I have.

I think most of us do that don’t we?

We make lemons out of lemonade and do the best we can with the cards we are dealt.

Deep down “Mother’s Day” is the 2nd most painful holiday aside from my “Birth Day”. From an adoptee perspective who was dealt a crap shot not only once in the mother area but twice I have nothing to celebrate on that day. If I’m completely honest I wish it never existed.

I hate it.

Oh I already said that didn’t I?

MOTHER- MOTHER-MOTHER-MOTHER!!

I just want it to be over!

“ACCEPT IT!”

Oh I have but because of Mother’s Day it never goes away!

MOTHER-MOTHER-MOTHER-MOTHER!

It’s like digging up the dead!

I don’t have a happy picture to put on my Facebook profile of my “Mother” and I. I don’t have a happy story to tell. I am sharing my story here, and then I will be moving on with my life.

One day at a time.

One foot ahead of the other.

I will always have that aching piece inside of me yearning for MY MOTHER.

But she’s not coming back.

She’s never coming back.

“Why are you so negative?”

I’m just keeping it real!

This is my reality!

Inside my head every single day!

**Smile for the camera!**

**Smile for the world**

Everyday I cry inside wishing I had my mother.

Maybe I will write her a letter and let her know how her leaving has hurt me so.

“Look on the bright side”- The World Says So!

Oh, of course.

THE BRIGHT SIDE.

I am a mother to 3 amazing children.

They are my life.

THEY ARE THE REASON I’M ALIVE!

What an honor it is to be a mother to them!

Do you not understand how hard it is to be a mother when you never had a mother?

Does anyone ever think of that?

I hope I’m half the mother they deserve.

I will let them celebrate “ME” because that’s what I’m supposed to do.

 I have some women in my life who are mother figures to me. I adore them to heaven and back again.

Deanie. Patsy. Jan.

They know who they are.

I thank God for them everyday.

But on the other hand.

MOTHER

MOTHER

MOTHER

MOTHER

I hate that word

but…

it feels so good to be h e a r d.

P. Karanova

Healing Through Writing

18193909_1285707134883896_1914105015348617709_n

 

The Ailing Adoptive Mother

Published on by Pamela A. Karanova9 Comments

When you’re adoptive mom is ailing and you have no relationship with her…

I always knew this day would come.

I fill with FEAR even thinking about it!

11 years ago I packed my kids up in a 22 foot U-HAUL with all our belongings and we moved across the country far away from my adoptive mom where she couldn’t spin her sick and twisted mentality on my children and on my life any longer.

I consider it an escape.

I will never forget July 2, 2005

runaway

If you knew all I know about my life, my child hood, and the pain and anguish this lady has caused me you would consider it an escape also.

ALONE

I was alone when I made the biggest, hardest decision of my life. This one decision would impact the rest of my life and the rest of my kids’ lives. I had to make a choice. Move away and have no family ties in the state we were moving too, or stay and my kids would experience all the trauma, emotional manipulation and mental sickness that my adoptive mother is filled with.

If you are curious of all the dynamics please read The Narcissistic Adoptive Mother . I won’t go into all the details here because it would take too long.

This decision is one my kids still don’t quite understand because they escaped, and they didn’t experience all I did. I AM SO GLAD THEY DIDN’T EXPERIENCE ALL I DID! What they understand is they left the only grandmother they would ever know and one that they spent a lot of time with the first part of their lives. Because of this it has created a space of confusion for them and I hate being adopted because of this. Why should my kids have to suffer just because I got dealt a raw deal in the mother area?

Regardless, I do not regret moving them/us away so they could have a better life. I understand they might not fully understand because they didn’t experience the other side as much as I did but when I noticed my adoptive mom starting to make them rub her back, massage her body and do inappropriate things I knew it was time to go. We raise our kids to have compassion, and to be kind and to love others, especially their grandparents. Well it’s hard for them to understand and it’s something that I struggle with because I don’t ever want them to fully understand because that means they didn’t experience as much as I did. I’m thankful for that. The flip side is that in there little sweet hearts, they just want their grandma minus all the BS! It hurts them, and it hurts me to see them hurt. I had to make this choice for my kids and I and now that they are adults they can make their own choices. It was my job as their mother to PROTECT THEM. That’s exactly why I moved far away.

My adoptive dad and his wife have always lived far away and I have a little bit of a relationship with them. When I was 1 my adoptive parents divorced and my adoptive dad remarried.   As an adult in my 40’s I can’t help but question WHY. Why did he leave us with this lady and HE KNEW how crazy she was? THAT’S WHY HE DIVORCED HER! He KNEW what she was capable of, but to this day most of the trauma and drama that we experienced was kept hidden from him. Within the last few years I had a talk with him. I was curious what the beginning of my life was like. I said, “How was she as a mother when I was a baby?” If you do the research you will know how critical the bond between baby and mother is ESPECIALLY at the beginning of life. When the original bond is broken, a trauma occurs. For me, I always wondered if I bonded with her, because I didn’t feel like I bonded with anyone, especially not a mother figure. He said, “When we got the call for you to be adopted, you should have never been adopted. (He wasn’t being mean, he was just being truthful!) Your “Mother” couldn’t even take care of the first baby (my adoptive sister that was 11 months older) but she wanted another baby. She had to undergo a psychological evaluation but somehow she passed. And we were able to adopt you. After that everything went to hell in a hand basket!” — WOW. It’s unbelievable that this woman was able to adopt even after she couldn’t take care of the first adopted child.  And then my adoptive dad left got remarried and moved over an hour away.

My adoptive sister and I were left ALONE with this MANIC DEPRESSIVE NARCISSISTIC WOMAN who not only tied us to chairs with dish towels, but tried to commit suicide over and over and made us her personal slaves taking care of her day in and day out.

Through my child hood I went to my adoptive dad’s house to visit every other weekend for the duration of my child hood.  He took us on vacations; we camped and traveled a lot. He let me be a kid. He was always amazing in my eyes, aside from one thing. I remember about my adoptive dad’s house was that they have always favored and I have experienced the pain from this first hand. I was on the opposite side of the one child that was always favored, as well as the rest of my adoptive siblings. IT HURT!  I never wanted my kids to feel the pain from being favored. If you favor kids or grandkids you need to stop! It causes lifelong pain and trauma! STOP STOP STOP!  I was an adopted step child and many times I was treated as such. There always has been and always will be a favorite in their eyes, even with the grandkids. I spared my kids the pain from experiencing this and made the choice not to move where this was happening. I wanted better for them.

If we were in Kentucky all alone with no family I could protect my kids, give them a better life than what I had, no family drama and manipulation. We have a church family here. We have a church home. God has put some amazing people in our lives who are our family. We are thankful.

But there is this piece inside of me, and I’m certain my kids who are deep down sad we have no family here to spend holidays with, to have relationships with and to invite over for Sunday dinners. I still would rather have escaped than deal with the adoptive mother, but look at the alternative. WE ARE ALONE IN KENTUCKY WITH NO FAMILY. Yes, I chose that. I have to always remind myself I chose that. But I also am reminded what the alternate was…

Again, refer back to the Narcissistic Blog post.

There is no point in taking my mind to “I wish, I wish”. There is no wishing in this game of adoption. Not for the adoptee anyway! We have no wishes, no choices, and no say so. We have no rights. I had no choice in moving away if I wanted better for my kids.

Today I have 110% control over my life, and who I allow in it and who I allow to manipulate me and hurt me. I teach my kids the same thing.

My adoptive mom is at the top of the list of people who has hurt me, way before I grew up and started acting out on my pain and I began to hurt others out of hurt, anger and pain from my child hood traumas I experienced growing up. My adoptive mom is the biggest trigger I have in my entire life. I think of her coming close to me or my kids I fill with a fear I can’t even describe. The last time she was here it was literally like the devil showed itself up at my doorstep. I am not kidding either. She brought her pill addicted self to my home and tried to create drama and a wedge between my kids and I and was full force into her manipulation tactics, manic depressive episodes, and craziness that I grew up in. This was August 2012. When she left my home at this time I told her she was never welcome in my home again and if she wanted to see her grandkids she would need to get a hotel room. I NEVER want my kids to see their grandmother lying around lethargic clinging to her prescription pill bottles tighter than she is clinging to anything in this lifetime.

WHY CAN’T SHE JUST BE A HAPPY HEALTHY NORMAL GRANDMA?

I always have hope that people can change, but she is someone I don’t believe ever will. Her mental illness, pill addiction and manic depression is too severe and she has never been treated for any of the root issues regarding all these things or these things in general. Growing up I didn’t understand! Now that I am grown up I understand! She’s SICK. And in the process she has just kept destroying lives, and somehow in the middle managed to adopt 2 kids!

She always said, “Your birth mother made my dreams come true to be a mommy”.  Talk about a mental mind F$%K for a child. I wanted to know my birth mother, to see her to be near her. I wanted my birth mother to be my mother. But my biggest loss was my adoptive mother’s biggest gain. I hated her for many years of my life because of all the hell she put me through. She was never a mother, and I never bonded to her at all. She made my skin crawl and still does. I was always the one who took care of her, telling her “It’s going to be okay mommy!” as she cry day in and day out about everything you could imagine.

Let me share, I remember my entire life her having “Talks” with me about never wanting to go to a nursing home. These talks go back all the way to me being a little girl. I never understood how random this was until I grew into my adult life. One year after my escape, she drove to my door to visit my kids. She wanted to have another “talk” with me. She was only 60 years old at the time. She wanted to know if I would be her POA and agree to take care of her in her elderly years. She was trying to have this “serious” talk with me and try to manipulate me into being her POA. Does she even understand what that might look like coming from me? That’s a whole different blog post!

First of all, I have 3 SMALL children and I am a single mother barely making it back in 2005! I was on public assistance, welfare, didn’t even have a car at the time. BUT SHE- THE ADOPTIVE MOTHER drove all the way to KENTUCKY to have this “TALK” with me about HERSELF and HER ELDERLY CARE WHEN SHE WAS 60 years old! I was blown away! I told her there was no way under God’s green earth that I was going to agree to ANYTHING regarding her care! We shouldn’t even be talking about this with her being 60 years old. I was 30 for God’s sake! With 3 small children! I quickly caught on to her scheming and manipulation tactics. We hadn’t even had a relationship since I escaped! My hands were full with my kids, and I found it extremely offensive she never took anything into consideration but HERSELF.

I shut her down and her topic of conversation back in 2005. I believe wholeheartedly that as parents age, things happen naturally and one of your kids who you have a great relationship with should be the one to step up and WANT to be the POA for the ailing parents. I never have or never will expect my kids to “TAKE CARE OF ME!” as I get older! If they choose to than I would be forever thankful, but if they don’t all I ask is they make sure the nursing home where I am is providing me with the care I need, and they be a voice for me if I am unable to be a voice for myself. IT’S VERY SIMPLE but I am thinking about them and their lives and I don’t want to impose on whatever they might have going on. They might be married, raising kids, or even raising grandkids for all I know. They might be in college, or not in a financial position to take care of me. I AM OKAY WITH THAT! Truth be told, if we do what we are supposed to do in the parenting area, our kids should WANT to take care of us if they are able! We shouldn’t have to manipulate and force them at all!  I believe with my entire being that my adoptive mother ONLY ADOPTED KIDS FOR HER OWN SELFISH DESIRES AND NEEDS AND A BIG PART OF THAT WAS TO LOCK ONE OF THE 2 KIDS SHE ADOPTED INTO BEING HER POA AND MANIPULATING US TO CARE FOR HER IN HER DYING DAYS…

Not only did she get a ticket to “mother hood” by adopting, she got a ticket out of being in a nursing home when she got into her dying days…

OR THIS IS WHAT SHE THOUGHT

It has taken me 37+ years to forgive this woman. I have forgiven her back in 2012. I refuse to carry any hate towards her. I feel sorry for her. I pity her. She’s an addict and she’s mentally sick. Her doctors have completely failed her and she has manipulated every single person she has come into contact with, even churches and pastors! I have seen it with my very own eyes growing up and as an adult. I learned as a child to disassociate my child self to a grown up self. I had no choice. When I was dealing with a hysterical manic depressive “Adoptive Mother” what choice did I have?

Today, I am at a place of peace with moving away although I will always have sadness regarding having to make this choice. WHY WAS I EVEN ADOPTED IF THIS WAS GOING TO BE A CHOICE I HAD TO MAKE? I feel like an adopted orphan and there comes a lot of pain with this! Not just for me but for my kids. I still get angry sometimes knowing my kids have to experience even a little of the pain I do. I get sad, and I hate adoption because of it. Yes, I have a hard story and so do many of my fellow adoptees! But I have had to make the choice to move forward with my life! When the sadness comes, I acknowledge it because trust me, NO ONE ELSE WILL! Adoptees are ALIENATED in how we feel! There is no one to share it with aside from one another adoptee.

The point of this blog post is to ponder what to do when my ailing adoptive mother is having issues, is in rehab and she is “ANGRY” my kids or I haven’t run to the rescue. By way of a 3rd party to one of my kids her POA has given multiple messages which I believe are somewhat manipulative and of course my kids want to know “WHAT DO I DO?” At this point my kids are all adults. I do not want that lady anywhere around my kids because she’s extremely dangerous with her manipulation tactics and she has many times tried to create a wedge and start drama between my kids and I, not to mention do everything in her power to guilt my kids into feeling sorry for her. WE DON’T HAVE DRAMA UNLESS SHE’S HERE! When she rolls up it’s like my child hood flashing back accept it’s with my kids in it! It’s BAD! Very VERY BAD!

You all know I am in RECOVERY! I will have 4 years soon. Even thinking of allowing her 461b8dc93aa7a7cd596ba3b9589fde5cback in my life causes me great grief and stress and anxiety! I WILL RELAPSE if I allow her back in my life. Drinking was my escape!  Yes, I still have so many memories from my child hood that I just can’t allow her back in my life for many reasons. Mainly because she’s still extremely toxic and I have gotten SO MUCH HELP for my issues, been working for years towards healing from my childhood which she robbed from me! I am still working on myself and doing everything I can to be a better mother to my kids than what I got…

And then here she comes out of nowhere expecting my kids and I to drop our lives and come running. I am blown away! There is NOTHING I can do for her because she has done NOTHING to help herself. She is still addicted to prescription pain pills, and manipulating everyone around by her hypochondriac sickness, manic depressive episodes, sleeping all day being awake all night.

If I tap into the little girl that so desperately wanted a mommy back in my child hood I get pretty sad and part of me wishes I could do something for her. I wish she was the mother I always dreamed of. If she was a “GOOD” adoptive mother I would love to move her here, take care of her, and make sure she was taken care of! BUT SADLY I never got the mother I deserved, as many people in life don’t. I was never comforted, protected, or loved the way I needed to be loved. She said she loved me but her actions showed the opposite so I grew up never knowing what LOVE felt like. After all, when you LOVE SOMEONE “SO MUCH” you hand them over to strangers to raise?  As soon as I tap into that little girl who wants and misses her mommy, HER REAL MOMMY, I remove myself and come back to REALITY. THE TRUTH IS MY ADOPTIVE MOTHER HAS NEVER BEEN A MOTHER. SHE ISN’T CAPABLE OF BEING A MOTHER.  SHE ADOPTED ONLY SO HER KIDS COULD TAKE CARE OF HER.

What I have considered doing is that when she gets to the stage of not being able to destroy lives anymore, and when she is out of her mind I would consider it then. But as long as her mouth piece keeps running and manipulation keeps flowing from her lips I will have no part of her life. I just can’t. The first 31 years of my life were catering to her, moving her, caring for her, cleaning for her, slaving for her, everything was about HER HER HER!

Today at 41 years old, almost 42 I am putting myself first and my kids first. I have for the last 10 years and moving away was the most freeing thing I have ever done in my lifetime. I do not regret it for one minute. What I do regret is ever being adopted in the first place. I hate every bit of being adopted. I’m on the outside of 2 family trees not belonging to either of them. It’s heartbreaking

BUT GOD!

I am here and alive. I have 3 amazing kids and one of the biggest joys of my future is having my kids grow up and having wonderful relationships with them and having grandkids in the future. We are our own family. I encourage my kids to surround themselves with HEALTHY PEOPLE and HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP! I encourage them to set boundaries with people if they aren’t healthy. If people can’t abide by your boundaries you have every right to cut them out of your life.

YOU DON’T OWE ANYONE ANYTHING!!!

I DON’T OWE ANYONE ANYTHING!!!

I DIDN’T SIGN ANY ADOPTION PAPERWORK!

freedom

I have prayed to God, asking Him if I am supposed to be the one to step up and do something to “CARE” for the woman who adopted me but never cared for me, only emotionally and mentally abused me I would like him to please SHIFT MY HEART back to the little girl who has compassion and love for this lady who stole so much. I have never felt FREER in my life than the moment I had that truck loaded, and drove all the way across the country and I had my babies with me. The FREEING feeling is something I can’t even describe. I believe the best way is the understand that I broke free from a toxic situation to FREEDOM but it was extremely difficult to get to that point. I had to have MUCH faith in God and put my hope and trust in him. When we arrived back in KY we had no home, no money, no bank account, no keys to anything, no car, no job, ONLY MY KIDS AND I AND OUR BELONGINGS! We stayed at my twin’s granny’s house for a few months; slowly God began to bless us. DON’T FORGET I HAD A LIFETIME OF TRAUMA DEEP INSIDE STILL BENEATH THE SURFACE. CHILDHOOD TRAUMAS SO DEEP I COULD MAKE A LIST! But GOD… He blessed us, I was able to get a job, a car, a place, and we have been doing well ever sense. I HAVE FINALLY ESCAPED AND MADE SOMETHING FOR MY KIDS AND MYSELF. On the outside things have been pretty good, but deep inside it’s taken me the last 4 years in recovery to scratch the surface on all the pain adoption has caused me! I am in acceptance mode that this recovery journey is going to last a lifetime and things might not get easier anytime soon. I have 31 years of conditioning I’m breaking FREE FROM. 31 years of anger, rage, hate, self-hate, abandonment, rejection, abuse, physical, sexual and emotional from my lifetime. 25+ years of my life I was a heavy drinker because I JUST COULDN’T FEEL THE PAIN OF MY PAST.

BUT GOD…

So today while my adoptive mother has fallen, gone to a rehab nursing home and she is making demands that she hates to be there and via a 3rd party is doing her best to manipulate my kids which in return she knows will get back to me I STILL FEEL NO OBLIGATION TO RUN TO HER AND START TO PICK UP WHERE I LEFT OFF WHEN I ESCAPED IN 2005 AND BEGIN TO TAKE CARE OF HER AGAIN. I TOOK CARE OF HER FOR 31 YEARS.

I am finally at a place where I am going to start living my life, all the life that was stolen when I was a child and up until I was 31 when I escaped. I have never started living life yet, and I have 3 amazing kids who are all adults now. I feel our relationships are about to get stronger and better. So far I’ve been mother and father to them, a role that is one that is TOUGH because a lot of times they don’t like me because I have to put boundaries into play. But if our kids like us all the time we aren’t doing something right! But I am already noticing a change in our relationships where we are getting closer because I’ve had to take a step back in some areas because they are ultimately going to choose what path they are going to take in life and now I believe we are going to become closer as friends, at least that’s what I feel and hope anyway. I PRAY A LOT FOR MY KIDS. GOD GETS THE GLORY EVERYDAY for bringing my kids and I where we are but I cannot and will not let the enemy come in and STEAL any more of my life than what he has already stolen! HE’S STOLEN A LOT! God is GOOD and GOOD things have happened since I escaped and he’s going to bring MORE GOOD as we move forward.

I pray for my adoptive mom and at this point that is truly what I feel God is leading me to do for her. Prayer is powerful and prayer changes things. I pray God help her heal from all the sickness she has had my entire life. I pray God change my heart if I am supposed to go help take care of her, or bring her where I am to take care of her. At this point even thinking about it causes me great stress, anxiety, and emotional and psychological wounds that aren’t fully healed come whaling back to my mind. I clearly don’t believe God is calling me to do anything at this point. She has blood family in Iowa. She has a sister, nieces and nephews; she has a power of attorney. She has friends, a pastor and the adoptive sister I grew up with has a relationship with her. So there are other people who have relationships with her who can step up and care for her.

I am deeply saddened that even from her nursing home bed she is still trying to manipulate and make others, including my children feel GUILTY she is there. We live states away and last I knew when people made responsible financial decisions in their life they SAVED THEIR OWN MONEY for their care as they got elderly. They didn’t EXPECT THEIR CHILDREN TO PAY FOR IT. She is at a rehab! The point of rehab is for her to GET BETTER and get back on her feet so she can go back home. I suspect a major part of her problem is that they are monitoring her medications and she’s addicted to pain pills. I have seen elderly in this position and I have had 31 years + experience with her addiction and I KNOW she can become impossible to deal with. She will have the most sane person in the world PULLING THEIR HAIR OUT! So she really has no say in where she is, when she is in the best place possible getting recovery hopefully going back to her apartment. Even if I went there, THERE IS NOTHING I COULD DO! I have a job, kids and a life here in Kentucky. She is in IOWA.

Today I am at peace that God is calling me to pray for peace and healing for her. I have no obligation to RUN TO THE AIDE of someone who stole so much from me. I haven’t seen or spoke to her in over 2 years aside from a brief visit in Sept 2015 and this is a view of what we arrived to, and the sad part.. She knew we were coming. Imagine being raised in this mess? THAT WAS MY CHILDHOOD…

She stole my childhood, my chance at having a mother who REALLY loved me. I don’t even know what a mother is or what a mother does?? I don’t know how a mother is supposed to be. The only way I have seen it is through others, and every time I see it I cry inside. I can’t even grasp what it’s like to have that close relationship with a mother but the closest thing I will ever have is my relationships with my kids and for them I am forever thankful. Minus having a mother, I have done my best to be a good mother to my kids. YES, I’ve made mistakes. A LOT OF THEM. But I’m trying to do better for them than what was done for me and I’m  moving forward and for once I am putting myself and my kids first. My recovery depends on it!!

I have spent the last 4 years working on myself by working the 12 steps over and over and doing so many things to CHANGE my life, for the better. I have made amends to people I hurt and asked for forgiveness as well as extended forgiveness to those who hurt me.  My adoptive mother on the other hand, is never going to change and I’m 100% positive she will die the same way she is. She’s mentally sick, she ruins lives, and her own family says she was born with evil in her body.

I wish things weren’t the way they were but because they are I feel no obligation at this time in my life to go running to my adoptive mother’s aide. I feel if she was ever in a place where she could no longer try to destroy people’s lives I might be able to consider it, meaning the later stages of her life when she is no longer able to manipulate. Perhaps she will be bed ridden, and her memory will be gone? She won’t be able to control her pill addiction, and her memory won’t remember who I even am. Maybe then I would consider it, if God calls me to do that.

For now I will pass and know in my heart of hearts I can only give what I can give and right now all I can give is PRAYER! I am only 11 years into gaining my freedom back from being conditioned for 31 years of my life, and STUCK in a toxic disgusting relationship. I’m not ready to give my life up again for someone that took so much. I’m at peace with this decision. I do feel bad for my kids who have been robbed of a happy healthy grandmother, like I was robbed of a happy healthy mother. It never leaves my mind and I have deep rooted sadness regarding this loss, not only for myself but for my kids.

freshair

For my fellow adoptees that have been in this situation, how did you handle it?

Thanks for reading!

Pamela Karanova

12036623_842936509160963_7403245174129123036_n

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…