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We all share the basic need to be "seen", "heard", and feel like "we matter". For Adoptees this can feel extra challenging. It can be hard to find supportive people we feel are worthy of our trust. This is a space to do just that.
In honor of ourselves and each other, it is important to have a safe space to share our stories. This can be done verbally or visually using text, video, or pictures. Stories, poems, songs, videos, blogs, vlogs, pictures, paintings, and collage are welcome here. Please email your submission to me: meaghancarriere@gmail.com and I with your permission I will add your work to this page. Please note this page will NOT be offering a “private” sharing option; if you wish to share privately I would suggest joining our FB group: Expressive Roots for LDA’s. I believe that it's important for us to have control over who sees our story, but also important to make some of our journey accessible to non-LDA's - parents, extended family members, teachers, therapists and other professionals as this is how we will help our communities to grow in their understanding of us.
"Public" Expressive Art Contributions:
Adoption is Adaption
The ability to adapt is as natural as breathing to an adoptee. As a baby the person who gave me life is gone. I adapt. My adoption is a private family matter never to be discussed. I adapt. My class has a genealogy assignment but I don't know my heritage. I adapt. A medical assistant hands me a family medical history form but I can't fill it out. I adapt. In the genetic mirror I see no reflection. Nobody looks or acts like me. I adapt. My family says I am betraying them because I yearn for answers. My family does not adapt. I adapt. The ability to adapt is one superpower of an adoptee. Adoption is Adaption. I am a warrior of the Adapted, fighting for understanding love. I adapt.
~ Written by Kendra Mackwitch and shared with permission
Late Discovery Tornado
By Wes Schropp
Your test results are in. Click here.
56% English/Irish. 18% Norwegian. What???
Instant Realization. Rapid denial.
Lab mistake. That’s it!
My family wouldn’t lie to me! This I KNOW!
Previous riddles suddenly making sense…
No pregnant pics…
So different from Dad…
Never fitting in…
Pieces of the puzzle swirling around.
Piece by piece, fitting together.
But my family wouldn’t lie to me! Not all of them!
My Sister will clear this up.
“Wanna hear something funny, Sis?”
“I’m 0% German!”
“Anything you want to tell me?” chuckle
Silence…. Sobbing…
“Sis? Oh My God!”
Silence… Sobbing…. Blubbering..
“I cccc..can’t tell you, Little Bbb..brother. You have to ask Mom”
You just did, Sis. I know what this means!
I’M NOT FREAKING STUPID!!!
Pacing. Racing. Counting the lies.
Numb. Detached. Alone. Betrayed.
So many relatives. So many lies.
Everybody knows- except me.
What kind of sick family would do this?
WHY DIDN’T AT LEAST ONE OF THEM TELL ME?
There’s THEM….
There’s ME.
(I’m not THEM)
But my family loves me!
Yet who would do this to someone they love?
Don’t they realize how wrong this is?
How could they betray me like this?
Anger. Sadness. Rage. Despair.
Unwanted visitors to a vulnerable soul.
Loss of Safety.
Loss of Self.
Loss of Mind.
Still, I need to know.
“Mom. I did a test.”
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
“I’m not German.”
Silence…. Shock…
She tries to lie, looking me straight in the face….
I NEED YOU TO BE HONEST RIGHT NOW, MOM!
“I’m going to ask you one question”
Sobbing… “I know what you’re going to ask, Son”
“Mom, was I adopted?”
Silence.. Sobbing…. “Yes, my sweet Son”. You were.
“But we loved you so much. The minute I saw you we fell in love.”
“You were so precious”.
“And I wanted a little boy so bad!”
“Your Mother didn’t even want to see you after you were born”
“She didn’t even want to hold you!”
Crushed.. Broken…. Violated.. Worthless….
Get away from her!
She doesn’t love you!
What kind of Mom would say that?
How cruel could she be?
Unsafe.
Walls up.
Let me be.
You don’t deserve me.
I’m leaving.
