Secrets

Every once in a while I read the advice columns on Washington Post or in the New York Times. Today, I’m doing laundry so I went and scrolled through the columns and found this one in WAPO Ask Amy.

 

Loved this article by an adoptee

“Here we go again.

Those four words pop into my mind every November, like an annual calendar reminder set to go off with a cartoon “boing.”

November is National Adoption Month, and as an adopted person you might think we’re all a bundle of anticipatory excitement, planning the kegger and booking the cover band.”

Mardi Link: Happy National Adoption Month

 

The Loss Becomes Deeper

I have spent countless hours doing my folks family trees, and my family trees, as well – the difference between the trees of my adoptive family is I can recount so many family stories I was part of, and all the stories told I wasn’t part of, and yet can tell them, because they were told, retold and talked about over the years.

 

This is wrong any way you look at it.

Yesterday, I ventured onto a FB Adoption Group, one that seems both moderate and helpful to people asking questions. And no, I’m not linking to it, cuz you know I’m not into shaming and naming, nor was it the fault of the group, the fault rests solely on the individuals (yes, there was more than one) that chose to say what they said.

 

I’m still here

Having a hard time making any of my thoughts translate to a post, so here’s yet another try.

Just heard a middle-aged adoptee who was asked to introduce himself, who, after stating his name included “I’m adopted and I hit the Jackpot.” He was speaking in a situation where being adopted (or not) had no bearing on anything, they just wanted his name for the record.

It was bizarre to say the least.