Tag: Suicide

It’s Hard To Feel Different

In looking for an image, I discovered this child’s book about feeling different by Doris Sanford published in 1986. The summary says – “A young boy is portrayed as he sorts out the hurt of ‘being different’ . . . at school. The boy knows he is not like other children . . . He finds true friendship with a little lamb, Fluffy. Fluffy ‘speaks’ truths to the boy about his specialness and how he is loved in spite of his differences. Ages 5 and up.”

From an adoptive parent today – We have an open adoption, more so with our son’s father and less so with his mother. Our son is 8 and has says every few months that he wishes he wasn’t adopted. He has known his birth story since birth. We visit his father’s family twice a year and he loves seeing his half sister. I’ve been struggling with the right supportive language to help him with those hard moments. I tell him that it must be hard to feel different. He says things like I’m the only adopted kid at my school.

One adoptee notes – if a person said almost every month that they were sad their mother died, would that be something to pathologize? If a person said they wished their mother never died, would you try to stop them from saying it? Losing one’s entire family, ancestors and all IS sad. As the perpetrator of the separation from his family, your comfort will ring hollow.

Someone asks – When he says he wishes he wasn’t adopted, is he saying he wants to be with his natural parents?

A mature adoptee notes – Wish I had an answer for you but sadly do not. Being the only adoptee etc. A feeling that has stayed with me my entire life and I am 72 yrs old. Not to say all times were bad but this being on the outside looking in, is always in the background.

Another adoptee asks – If his father can raise his half sister, why is he not raising him? Why is he separated from his family? I ask, because I was in the same boat. There’s nothing my adoptive family could have said and there’s not enough therapy that could have made things easier for me. He is well within his right to be angry.

One shares some personal experience – I’m an adoptee and I have fostered a child.. anyway… I always think … if kids see their parent … raising another child, it would really make them feel bad – like “why don’t they love me ?” … the child I fostered has a 1/2 brother who mostly lives his dad. The mother fought her ass off to get her daughter back from me, which is great. But has not put in the effort to get him back and he follows her on social media and is allowed to come when his dad feels like it … I just always wonder how he must feel.

An adoptee asks – Have you asked him – what part of being adopted exactly is making him sad ? Are you giving him the freedom to truly express himself or are you saying placating words like “I know, it’s hard to be different”, which actually closes down open discussion ? Is he seeing a therapist ? If not get him in to one!

From a late discovery adoptee – “it must be hard to be different” rings so hollow! I couldn’t stand it when adults said fake crap like that to me. I’d always see right through it, even as a small child!

Which caused another adoptee to write –  For me, it rings hollow because it reinforces that I AM different, and at least for me, carries the implication that “different” is less than and not as good. It doesn’t just validate my feelings, it tells me that my feelings are facts.

Another late discovery adoptee acknowledges – The past cannot be undone, but perhaps acknowledging to him that you accept that the way things happened and the way you and his natural family did things were not the best they could have been, will be a good start. Is working towards shared custody or reunification something he wants or even a possibility ?

One adoptee can relate – That’s a tough age to deal with being adopted. I had huge feelings that I couldn’t put into words and I was also the only adopted kid with my peers, as my adopted sister refused to talk about it. The kids would tease me and ask the craziest questions that make you feel so alone (ie: do your AP’s make you clean all the time? Do you call them mom and dad? Why didn’t your real mom like you enough to keep you? Was there something wrong with you when you were born?). Having another adoptee as a friend or therapist helps us to feel normal and understood. You’re seeking the right words but there are none. You are already helping him in all the ways you can – by keeping the adoption open, being supportive and his safe place. Please keep trying to find another adoptee therapist, support group, or friend. You benefited from the adoption, while he lost everything, so you aren’t able to fully understand and comfort him.

One adoptee who was adopted as an infant says – I’m 41 and HATE BEING ADOPTED. Does that ever go away?? I don’t think it does. I’m not sure there’s much you can do about his very valid feelings in the matter.

One adoptive parent made a point that was on my own mind – Can you increase the amount of visits with his sister and dad ? Twice a year isn’t a lot of time to really form that bond. Even with distance, there might be other ways to improve the contact.

One kinship adoptee suggested –  always validate his feelings, don’t internalize them & make it about you because it’s not. It’s his life that was uprooted.

One mature adoptee tells the truth – I’m 57 and still wish I wasn’t adopted. There were/are no words anyone (especially my adoptive parents) can say that will change that, ever. It also has nothing to do with feeling “different”. One of the worst things my adoptive mother did was pretend she knew how I felt, which was impossible since not only was she not adopted, but she gained from my adoption. It’s very hard for someone to come off as a sincere support when they gained from my loss.

Yet another mature adoptee – It *is* hard to feel different and to not understand why you can’t be with your biological family. I hated being adopted, I’m 40 now and *finally* coming to terms with the damage it caused me. My adoptive family doesn’t speak to me. Haven’t heard from them in over 4 years. They didn’t adopt me for life, just for when it was convenient for them. Those feelings of hurt never completely go away. Then, OMG, comes this – There’s more horror to my story, the abandonment came after I attempted suicide and they used the system to steal my oldest child from me. I feel like I was exploited to fill their void yet again and my daughter is suffering because of it. That spiraled me hard into addiction and homelessness but by the grace of God, I am still alive and coming back to living for the first time in my life. It’s a lot to unpack! My adopter was looking for the excuse to abandon me for a long time, since she flat out told me I was the worst mistake she ever made and she wished she never adopted me. We are disposable to them. It’s painful to say the least.

Never Ending Grief

Today’s story from an adoptee – Today I was told my biological half brother, who has been the most communicative of my first family, has terminal lung cancer. I’ve never met him, our younger brother or either of my sisters, in person. I do not have a good relationship with first mom and first father is deceased. I had knowledge this might be a possibility and thought I was okay. But I am grief stricken. I can not stop crying and left work today. My heart is broken for a brother I never got to have and now one that will never be. Suggestions for dealing with this grief are welcome. I probably should add I lost both my adoptive parents and brother already and a son to suicide 4.5 Yrs ago. This grief feels too much and never ending.

One respondent suggested – I’m sorry for his diagnosis. I’ve found writing a grief letter to be helpful to process thoughts and feelings. Let the feelings of grief come up within your body as you write.

Another suggested – I’m so very sorry for all of your losses- the pain must be massive. My heart aches for you. Please hang in there- the world needs your light. I would encourage you to reach out to your brother and prioritize meeting him as quickly as possible. Have the relationship you’re grieving. In the meantime, I would start keeping a journal (or a note on your phone) of all the things you think of to discuss with your brother. Maybe even write him a letter (that you don’t have to send) expressing the feelings you’re experiencing right now.

Another adoptee wrote – A grief counselor and therapist really helped me deal with the loss in my life. I don’t know if this is helpful but my therapist told me I have to grieve the life I will never have. For me, I will never have a family and once I can grieve and accept that fact, it will be easier to move forward and be clear on what I really want and need for my future. I know the circumstances are different in your case. 

Another notes – I too have had so very many losses myself. It is a hard walk to travel through. I reach out when I’m feeling needy or I have feelings that are overwhelming before I am in what I call a crisis. For me it took time to learn how to do this (reaching out) and my triggers, what they are and which times I know I’m going to struggle the most – such as holidays, birthdays. I learned that it’s always up and down, and sometimes it can be easier by working on myself and embracing my journey.

Another adoptee wrote – Disenfranchised grief is real grief too. She also wrote – Virtual hug to you (cause physical hugs I can’t stand).

Remembering Tam

Today’s story by a grieving friend (not the blogger) but such an important acknowledgement – remembering Tam on the anniversary of her birth.

She cried for weeks after she arrived. Tam spent years in the orphanage back in Vietnam, it became her home and the other children her family. She played a cassette tape of all the songs they sang together. Each time it ended, the crying would die down as she flipped it to the other side. The crying would resume after she hit the play button. Profound pain and sadness. Grief.

Tam was blind, yet moved with ease, feeling with her hands, smelling with her nose. She took care of herself meticulously, especially her hair. She refused to use a service dog and reluctant to use her cane, never wanting to draw that kind of attention to herself. She had a good amount of self-pride.

I graduated from college in 2000 with a degree in psychology. I had also wanted to minor in social work which seemed to come to me more easily. Second semester senior year was just a bit too late to choose a new major, or even a minor. Since then, I’ve surrounded myself with social workers for most of my career.

Midterms are one of the last ways to boost your GPA, and I could have used a boost! I also received my acceptance letter from UConn to their master’s program at their school of family studies. I make the call back home from my dorm room to share the news. “Tam is in the hospital, call everyone to come home.”

The story of how she died has been told a number of different ways in the media over the years. What hasn’t been included in Tam’s story though is that as adopted people, we live with layers of pain, trauma and in a constant state of grief. Too often it is disenfranchised grief, to the point we aren’t aware our bodies still feel the losses we’ve endured. Too often an act of suicide is confused with wanting to stop the pain. To stop feeling. Sometimes, we act impulsively after a fight or argument as we register it as a threat. This threat triggers our fear response. Fear of rejection. Anger at ourselves.

Whatever it is, we just want the pain to go away. We are tired of feeling. We want it to stop. Suicide continues to be stigmatized, and those, like me, live with shame and guilt. It’s why there is a movement to normalize these thoughts and feelings, so people can share them to be seen, heard and validated. It’s powerful when someone connects with you and says “I see you, thank you for helping me understand your pain.” With that kind of connection, a life can be saved.

The truth is that Tam died in 2000. Both her life and death have profoundly changed me. I continue to turn my pain into purpose. To keep telling her story. Many people don’t realize how important it is when you’ve been adopted. Your story is told by others, often to shape a narrative. I strive to tell Tam’s truth. Even through her death, she deserves to be seen. Her pain and how she lived makes her human.

It was her birthday last week. I now call it the anniversary of her birth. Often it is a traumaversary for those who are adopted. I will never know what she would have been like at this stage of adulthood. I do remember her laugh. What a laugh!

Childhood Trauma

This will not be news to most adoptees. Still the statistics don’t lie about what childhood trauma does to the child. Being separated from the family that we were conceived within will always have a layer of trauma built in.

The effects of adoption trauma include grief and loss, problems in relationships, struggles with identity and sense of belonging, or behavioral and academic problems. Adoption trauma can also sometimes lead to more serious mental health concerns, including anxiety, ADHD, and suicidal ideation.

Just Google “Adoption Trauma” and you will find abundant sources of corroborating information.

A Multi-Generational Journey

A woman wrote on a page I follow that adoption is “a multi-generational journey. It is a stone thrown into the familial pond that ripples outward ad infinitum.”

She went on to share – Today my grandson-lost-to-adoption turns 34. My son-lost-to-adoption, along with his girlfriend, surrendered him when my son was just 18. My grandson found me last December and so far, I am his only connection to his family of origin. He has experienced “abandonment” by both of his birth parents twice: at 6 months of age when they terminated their parental rights and then recently when he learned of his father’s suicide and his mother’s reunion refusal.

Another woman commented – Four generations and counting for me.

blogger’s note – In my family too. Both parents were adoptees. Both of my sisters gave up babies to adoption. One also lost custody to her son’s grandparents (she also gave up my niece with coercion from our adoptee mom – unbelievable but true) and I physically lost custody to my ex-husband and his second wife (though my parental rights were never terminated, he ended up raising her – would not agree to paying child support and so, I found another way to get that financial support but at great cost to me). Thankfully, my grown daughter and I are very close, even though. So far, our children are not losing their own children.

With all of this in mind, I went looking. It is hard to find anything related among the numerous pro-adoption links.

At the American Adoption Congress, I found an article by Deborah Silverstein and Sharon Kaplan about the LINK>Lifelong Issues in Adoption. From that article –

Before the recent advent of open and cooperative practices, adoption – had been practiced as a win/lose or adversarial process. In such an approach, birth families lose their child in order for the adoptive family to gain a child. The adoptee was transposed from one family to another with time-limited and, at times, short-sighted consideration of the child’s long-term needs. Indeed, the emphasis has been on the needs of the adults–on the needs of the birth family not to parent and on the needs of the adoptive family to parent. The ramifications of this attitude can be seen in the number of difficulties experienced by adoptees and their families over their lifetimes.

blogger’s note – Certainly, both of my parents adoptions in the 1930s were NOT open adoptions.

The authors article above goes on to note – Adoption is created through loss; without loss there would be no adoption. Loss, then, is at the hub of the wheel. All birth parents, adoptive parents, and adoptees share in having experienced at least one major, life-altering loss before becoming involved in adoption. In adoption, in order to gain anything, one must first lose–a family, a child, a dream. It is these losses and the way they are accepted and, hopefully, resolved which set the tone for the lifelong process of adoption.

The grief process in adoption, so necessary for healthy functioning, is further complicated by the fact that there is no end to the losses, no closure to the loss experience. Loss in adoption is not a single occurrence. There is the initial, identifiable loss and innumerable secondary sub-losses. Loss becomes an evolving process, creating a theme of loss in both the individual’s and family’s development. Those losses affect all subsequent development.

blogger’s concluding notes – I found no resolution to this whole subject but at least people are reflecting and contemplating upon the issues.

For my own self, my feelings about adoption are complicated by the fact that – if there had not been adoption in my parents lives – I simply would not have existed. I am left with no choice but to accept this as best I can. I am not a fan of adoption. Recently I connected with a woman who knows quite a bit about adoption in general – she said, “I’ve never met anyone with so much adoption in their family.”

I did like the image I posted for this blog today. I do feel like I was preserved within my family (not given up for adoption when my teenage mom discovered she was pregnant before marriage) so that I could fulfill my own Life’s Purpose – knitting back together the fragments of my parents’ original birth parents’ families, so that our identity is now more whole.

A Missing Mom

Tina Turner with sons

Tina Turner was born Anna Mae Bullock on November 26 1939. Her parents, Floyd Richard and Zelma Priscilla Bullock, were sharecroppers. She was raised in Nutbush, Tennessee, where she recalled picking cotton with her family as a child. She sang in the tiny town’s church choir. When Anna Mae was 11, her mother Zelma left her abusive husband (Tina’s father, Richard) and moved to St Louis. When her father Richard remarried, he left Anna Mae in the care of her grandmother. True this was a kinship guardian kind of situation and not all that uncommon then – or today. It still left wounds of abandonment. blogger’ note – I did much the same, leaving my 3 year old daughter with her paternal grandmother, when I took a leap of faith to try and earn enough money to support the two of us (since there was no child support forthcoming).

Tina became pregnant during her senior year of high school. She moved in with the father, saxophonist Raymond Hill, who was living with Ike Turner as part of his Kings of Rhythm band. She welcomed her first child, Craig, in August 1958, though the couple had already broken up before he was born. Tina Turner lived as a single mother until she began her relationship with Ike. Tina then helped raise his two sons from his previous marriage to Lorraine Taylor – Ike Turner Jr and Michael Turner. Tina and Ike Turner had one biological child together, Ronnie, who was born in 1960. Ike adopted Craig and Tina adopted Ike Jr and Michael. Tina adopted Buddhism and feels the practice of chanting has had a positive effect on her life.

Tina suffered the deaths of both her biological sons during her lifetime. In 2018, Craig died by suicide at the age of 55. He had been working as a real estate agent and had struggled with his mental health. Tina is known to have said that he was always an “emotional child.” She described his death as her “saddest moment as a mother”. She scattered his ashes off the coast of California. Ronnie Turner was born two years before Tina and Ike married in 1962. Ronnie had dabbled in acting, including with his mother in a biopic movie based on his mother’s life titled What’s Love Got To Do With It. His father, Ike Turner died in 2007 at the age of 76. Ronnie spoke at his father’s funeral. It was shortly after that, when his own health battle began leading to his death in 2022 from the complications of colon cancer.

Ike Turner Jr has spoken about the estrangement he and his brother experienced when their mother moved to Europe. She was the “only mother he knew” and he felt that she had abandoned him, saying “I haven’t talked to my mother since God knows when – probably around 2000. I don’t think any of my brothers have talked to her in a long time either.”

Tina has said – “I had a terrible life. I just kept going. You just keep going, and you hope that something will come.”

Conceived In A Mental Hospital

Gloria Taylor

My adoptee father was never interested in learning about his origins. I get it. Sometimes, DNA testing brings an uncomfortable truth to light, as it did for this woman. She shares her story at Right to Know >LINK Gloria Taylor.

Gloria writes that “In 2019 I finally got the nerve to confront my then 89 year old mother when she came to visit from California. Little did I know when I asked the question that I would experience another shock. It turned out the man I believed to be my biological father was instead my uncle. His younger brother was my BF. My mother met him while working at a State Mental Hospital where he was a patient. All that played over and over in my head was I was conceived in a mental hospital. I felt like I was trapped in someone else’s nightmare.”

“I felt sick, and I remember thinking not my perfect mother. Suddenly the memories of my childhood came rushing in; never feeling like I belonged, overwhelming sadness, not looking like anyone in my family, and always feeling something was off about me. I was crushed. I was surprised to learn I am 52% European, 40% African (with 9 % being Afro Caribbean), 5% Asian, and 3 % Hispanic. I was shocked to learn of the Asian, Caribbean, and Hispanic heritage.”

She further shares – “I have always had this self loathing destructive side. I would look in the mirror and think how ugly I am. I often thought about suicide, and I would cut my arms to relieve the pressure in my head. I still struggle with finding something good about myself. I have always self identified as black, although it was always apparent in my family growing up we were of mixed ethnicity. My maternal grandmother was also multiracial. Discovering my ethnicity breakdown, led me down a another road of emotional turmoil. I’m still trying to figure out where I ethnically fit.  At this point in time I choose to identify as mixed.”

She ends her essay with this – “I am no longer angry, and have forgiven my mother. I understand there are things that happened in her life that probably led her down this road. I think sometimes we forget our parents are human too. I still can’t seem to find my place in either family, and feel I exist in a space somewhere between both worlds. I grieve for all that was lost, but am hopeful that in time I will find my place.”

I hope that in time, she finds peace.

Adoption Is Only The Beginning

Image by Madelyn Goodnight

Today’s blog is inspired by an article in The New Yorker – LINK>Living in Adoption’s Emotional Aftermath. From the article –

Deanna Doss Shrodes believes that a child who starts life in a box will never know who they are, unless they manage somehow to track down their anonymous parents. It distresses her that many of her fellow-Christians, such as Amy Coney Barrett, talk about adoption as the win-win solution to abortion, as though once a baby is adopted that is the end of the story. If someone says of Deanna that she was adopted, she corrects them and says that she is adopted. Being adopted is, to her, as to many adoptees, a profoundly different way of being human, one that affects almost everything about her life.

“I explain to friends that in order to be adopted you first have to lose your entire family,” Deanna said. “And they’ll say, Well, yes, but if it happens to a newborn what do they know? You were adopted, get over it. Would you tell your friend who lost their family in a car accident, Get over it? No. But as an adoptee you’re expected to be over it because, O.K., that happened to you, but this wonderful thing also happened, and why can’t you focus on the wonderful thing?”

This is the less than fairytale ending – There are disproportionate numbers of adoptees in psychiatric hospitals and addiction programs, given that they are only about two per cent of the population. A study found that adoptees attempt suicide at four times the rate of other people. Adoption begins with the ending of the connection to the people who conceived and birthed the adoptee.

“Coming out of the fog” means different things to different adoptees. It can mean realizing that the obscure, intermittent unhappiness or bewilderment you have felt since childhood is not a personality trait but something shared by others who are adopted. It can mean realizing that you were a good, hardworking child partly out of a need to prove that your parents were right to choose you, or a sense that it was your job to make your parents happy, or a fear that if you weren’t good your parents would give you away, like the first ones did. It can mean coming to feel that not knowing anything about the people whose bodies made yours is strange and disturbing. It can mean seeing that you and your parents were brought together not only by choice or Providence but by a vast, powerful, opaque system with its own history and purposes. Those who have come out of the fog say that doing so is not just disorienting but painful, and many think back longingly to the time before they had such thoughts.

Adoptees are often looking for those pieces of their lives or their selves that were missing, or had been falsified or renamed, trying to fit them to the pieces they had. I think those missing pieces were what motivated me to go looking and find out what could be found out. And I did. Families of people I was genetically related to that I never knew existed, living lives I had no idea about. Some knew my parents had been born and given up for adoption but didn’t know about me. DNA has helped with being accepted as being another one who is actually part of their family but building relationships has not proven as easy as finding out about these.

Not Erasing Mom

A young girl, age 4, lost her mother to suicide at a very young age and her father is unknown. The mother was this woman’s husband’s sister. They had been living with her grandparents but they didn’t refer to the woman as her mother but rather as her auntie. It was selfish of the grandparents not to be honest with her. Her mom died and of course, that is terribly terribly sad. The grandparents are now both in their 70s. The woman’s question was whether adoption or guardianship would be best. The answer was adoption would alter her birth certificate, removing her mother, in effect erasing her. Guardianship would allow the child to stay with them but preserve her mom’s role as that.

A woman with a similar experience shared – You should be talking about her mom often. Father, I’d try to find him if at all possible. You should also have plenty of pictures of mom and her and just mom in your home, that’s all she has left of her mother that she lost so young.

I adopted 2 children whose mother committed suicide. We talked immediately. They were older, and had more understanding but I wouldn’t have changed my approach had they been younger. The truth hurts whether they find out young or older. The conversations started with setting them down, just the 3 of us and saying. In this case, there was already a therapist on board.  “Mrs.___ (therapist) just called and told me that your mom died yesterday.” The tears came immediately, and I held them until one asked how she died and what happened.” I said, Mrs.___ said that she K— herself.” They asked “why did she do that?” And I said “your mom was really sad, and her heart was hurting really badly and she did not want to hurt anymore. Your mom did not have anyone to help her when she was feeling bad, and she probably did not think things would ever get better. Sometimes people hurt themselves when they are hurting and don’t know what else to do. Sometimes they just don’t want to live anymore. And sadly, that is how your mom felt.” The youngest said “I hurt like that sometimes too, but I talk to Mrs ___ and you. I guess mama didn’t have anyone to talk to.” I said no, she probably didn’t and I wish she would have. The oldest said “so we won’t ever see her again huh?” I said, not alive, but we will go to her funeral, and you may get to see her in the casket if you want to. She will look like she’s sleeping and Me and Mrs__ will be there to help you and talk to you.”

This conversation is ongoing years later and evolves as it needs to, to help them understand exactly what happened. Obviously, your conversation will look differently because her mom died a few years ago, but she can understand more than you think, and even if she doesn’t understand, she will someday and the conversation is still important.

Every person will need a different approach when discussing tragedy. Not every child will have the same experience with grief or loss. One thing for sure, children who have already experienced trauma have sometimes already seen the worst of the worst. So while the news of their mom’s death was tragic, and heart breaking, it wasn’t a huge surprise. It wasn’t their first discussion regarding suicide or self harm. They had been in therapy and had already talked about many things involved in their mom’s suicide. While they hadn’t seen her in a year, she often talked in visits about being lonely, alone, and sad. I would never answer any questions with “I’ll tell you when you’re a bit older”. If she asks the question, then she’s old enough to take in the answer on her level. 

Don’t wait to talk about her mom and the circumstances of her joining your family. Keep it age-appropriate, but honor her mother, and speak about her positively at random times to show her through action and words that it’s perfectly fine for her to bring her up. Make photos and other mementos accessible. With her being so young, she’s not likely to have many clear memories of her mother. If you can share your own happy memories, she will be able to have a deeper picture of the person her mom was.

Deliberately removing mothers cannot possibly be called progress. It is a denial of biological reality and human need. Every child has a mother: the woman who was ‘home’ for nine months, delivered them into this world, and (in most cases) fed them from her own body. A mother and her baby share an intimate and irreplaceable bond–even before the child is born. Beyond birth and breastfeeding, mothers continue to relate to their children in a unique way. 

When we delete mothers from our vocabulary and from children’s lives, we are sending the message that there’s nothing special about mothers – any adult will do. But the reality is that every human being needs and longs for their genetic mother. Babies spend nine months preparing to meet the mother they already know and share a relationship with. After birth, mother-infant bonding is of the utmost importance for a child’s healthy development.