Dear Anonymous,

Growing up, I had periods where I had a hard time accepting my adoption and thought about my birth mother. I thought about how excited I would be to “finally” have a mom. How happy I would feel to “finally” have someone who understood me. And someone who would hug me with more love — I expected myself to have all the reactions an adopted child is expected to feel when meeting their birth parent(s) for the first time.

Some Background Info: Adoption Experience

I had a rough upbringing in the foster system. And even a rough life as an adopted child. There were many things that my adoptive mother did that has caused me trauma. All of which made me feel resentment towards myself, preventing me from accepting my adoption because I wished to be somewhere else. I wanted to be with my dad; but he wasn’t alive. So I tried finding my birth mother.

I got in contact with my birth mother in 2017. I experienced all that I have expected of myself. My birth mother even went to one of my basketball games.

We Didn’t Talk For 3+ Years

Through time, I experienced anger and sadness through a sunken self-worth caused by people who told me that they were right. I sat and reasoned with myself for over 3 years by my own intuition to understand that the words of others meant nothing if I intuitively felt.

This year I put together a family collage of pictures for my ancestral alter. My adoptive mother and birth parents/family were included. The following week, I went on a man-hunt to see if my birth mother was still alive. I searched online, databases, voting information, social media, etc. I called more than 15 numbers that I found online. And went to a few addresses. I slightly gave up; then reflected.

A few days after reflection: My birth mother reached out to me. I expected myself to cry, to be excited, happy, fulfilled, etc. And not a thing came out, besides asking myself why I wasn’t reacting how I expected.

Why I’m Writing ‘Accepting my Adoption’

All this time I was looking to replace the mother I already had. I turned to realize that I accepted my adoptive mother to be my mom. In a way, I surrendered to the universe. I accepted that everyone was flawed in their responses and actions. And what mattered most, was how someone bettered themselves through their mistakes. All this time I resented my adoptive mother for all the things she has done to me without accepting how she bettered herself.

Now that we’re here, I accept my reaction and lack of excitement. I accept my adoptive mother as my mom. I no longer resent my mom nor myself for the decisions that has led me to being adopted. Lastly, I accept my intuition because it has led me here.

Through this all, I learned to understand that a relationship must be built.

Yours Truly,

Damian

Depression & Anxiety

I have made friends with my diagnoses, anxiety and depression, about 5 years ago. For me, depression was an easy one to accept. I had researched countless hours about what depression was, the varying symptoms and how to cope with it – all before telling anyone I was struggling. I went as far as taking online quizzes labeled “Do I Have Depression?”. Not to my surprise, each came back saying “highly likely” or “see a provider”.

Anxiety was another easy one to accept. For me, it actually felt like a relief. Looking back at my childhood, I thought I was just being difficult or worried too much. Oftentimes, I felt I was just too sensitive. But, in reality, many times I was feeling anxious and overstimulated. During high school, I would stay home by myself when my family was at work and extracurricular activities. Unlike other kids who could walk around the house freely and relax in the silence, I would be frozen. My anxiety told me at any second someone would break into the house. I would sit and go through different scenarios in my head and how I could get out of the house if something happened. I kept 2 phones with me at all times and stayed in the living room until someone came home. And I just thought I was being crazy and needed to calm down, but I couldn’t. So, when I was given the label of generalized anxiety disorder, I felt like what was happening in my head had been rationalized.

My Journey of Accepting my Diagnoses

Recently, I have developed more prominent signs of OCD. For me, it’s been in the form of contamination OCD or what I like to call “germ OCD”. When I come home from being out in public, I immediately have to wash my hands. Not once, but multiple times until they feel clean. I also need to change my clothes immediately in fear of sitting on something and getting it “dirty” from being outside of my house. I have also been obsessive about numbers, specifically the volume of music playing in my car or on the TV. They all have to be odd. If not, I will continuously think about it until it is fixed. After talking through these symptoms over many weeks with my therapist and healthcare provider, we decided what I am experiencing is most likely OCD. I felt so discouraged when this label was first brought up. I felt as though all the hard work I’ve been doing in therapy was wasted. Honestly, I felt like it was one more thing to add to the list of “what’s wrong with me”.

Over the past few weeks I have come to realize it’s not just “one more thing that’s wrong with me”. For me, talk about diagnoses and a new diagnosis is a way to explain why I am thinking the way I am. I also try to remind myself that just because I am experiencing these symptoms now, does not necessarily mean I will always experience them. But, if I do, it is okay and I will continue to learn ways to cope.

– Maria