Lessons from a Decade in Reunion (and some Therapy)

Earlier this year, I celebrated a decade in reunion with my natural family. My mom and I spent a quiet weekend together in Amish Country in Ohio, and my dad and I exchanged messages via Facebook.

I was low-key about the anniversary because I’ve been battling anxiety attacks. They started in August of 2021 after a challenging conversation that re-opened the Pandora’s Box of issues that I have carried as an adoptee.

When I realized what I was experiencing (thanks to a Ted Lasso episode), I sought out a therapist. We started working through how to deal with anxiety and why I’m having anxiety attacks.

Though my anxiety can still be triggered, I’m doing much better now, and I’m ready to share some of what I’ve learned from a decade in reunion and some therapy.

People will get hurt. It sounds silly, but I entered the reunion process thinking that if I did all the right things, no one would get hurt. But I was wrong. My natural mom hurts when we talk about the mental and emotional impact of being adopted, when I relive moments that she wasn’t part of (e.g., graduations, wedding), and, at times, when she reads my blog posts. And she’s not the only one. The August conversation that re-opened Pandora’s Box was an acknowledgement from an adoptive family member that they hurt too and the suggestion that other family members also hurt. And I think that revelation (along with some hurt I experienced in that conversation) led to the anxiety attacks that I began experiencing.

It’s still okay to search/reunite. I started this journey for myself and it may be selfish to say I would do it again despite the pain it brought for others, but I would. I am a much better version of myself because of this process. I got answers to long-standing questions that haunted me. I developed relationships with people who loved me from afar for years (and you can’t ever have enough people love you). I feel more complete and content that I did in my first 36 years of life. I would seek those results over and over again.

Control what you can control. This may be the most important lesson my therapist has worked on with me. I can control my own thoughts, words, and behaviors, but I can’t control what others think, say, or do – even if it’s about me and this adoption/reunion journey. I have made decisions that impact others, and as much as I want to make that okay for them, I can’t. What I can do is show up consistently and offer myself to be in healthy relationship with all of my family members. What they do next is their call.

Being an adoptee means nothing, and it means everything. Our experiences may not define us, but they certainly shape us. There are days that being an adoptee has no impact on my world, other than the fact that I have more parents than the average American. I go about my work and play, and my adoption never surfaces in meaningful ways. But there are days that I can specifically identify when being an adoptee is framing how I see an issue, a relationship, or the world at large. I try to be mindful of those moments.

Therapy helps. My therapist has been a fantastic source of support over the last several months. She asks great questions, lets me share my thoughts openly and without judgement, affirms and challenges me, and shares wonderful tools, skills, etc. I highly recommend a therapist, even if you don’t have an acute need; maintenance therapy is also very valuable.

It’s the Punch You Don’t See Coming

There’s an old boxing adage that suggests it’s the punch you don’t see coming that knocks you out. From my position lying on the mat (almost ten years into search and reunion), I think there’s a painful truth in that observation.

Like many situations, the “punch” was less about the scenario that I encountered and more about the Pandora’s Box of adoptee issues that it opened. A box full of thoughts and feelings that I believed were addressed long ago. Turns out, I may be wrong because the emotional/mental stress of dealing with those issues has resulted in anxiety attacks.

I’ve had periodic episodes of anxiety in the past, but they never showed up as anything other than stomach issues, so I never even considered that possibility until (in what may be the most “me” thing ever) I was watching an episode of “Ted Lasso” and I recognized myself in a scene in which he was having an anxiety attack.

So, I have an appointment with a therapist to talk about what’s happening on the surface and underneath it. I’m sharing this on my blog because I don’t want to be one of the people who contributes to the stigma around mental health by hiding this part of my life as an adoptee. If it seems appropriate, I will share some of what I’m learning in my journey. Right now, the most important lesson is that it feels courageous to seek help.

Confronting Hard Truths

It’s my (natural) dad’s birthday. I’d like to call him, but I’m uncertain if it’s okay. He has a lot of people in his world who don’t know I exist, so I’m always hesitant to pick up the phone. Just in case he’s with someone who doesn’t know. “Oh that? That was, uh, my daughter I never told you about.” Could create awkward moments for him.

As I review that first paragraph, I’m struck by the words it contains. Uncertain. Hesitant. Awkward. Most people wouldn’t associate those words with me. I think most people would say I’m confident, self-assured, and in control. But here I am. Using those words in a public forum. Because those words describe me too. Particularly when it comes to relationships (e.g., family, friends, etc.). Because relationships are complicated for me.

But why??? I’ve thought about that question over and over. Let’s just go down a brief list of answers I’ve identified:

• I’m a natural introvert. I have always been bad at small talk, which seems to be the starting point for many relationships.
• I (generally) don’t trust people. I often don’t take my foot off the brake long enough to allow a relationship to start.
• I over-think. I’ll spend months trying to determine if it’s the right move to start a relationship or I’ll dissect a relationship until it falls apart.
• I’m not good at feelings (and relationships involve those). I keep a list of “feeling words” at my desk because when people ask me how I feel, I often wrap my feelings in a cloak of “thinking words” because it’s more comfortable.

That list is probably enough to explain my relationship challenges, but lately I’ve been wondering if those are the core problems. Maybe the real challenge is in a promise I made to myself when I reunited with my (natural) family. A promise that sounded something like, “I’ll have whatever level of relationship they want to have with me.”

On the surface, that promise sounds appropriate. It took into consideration their life circumstances, their thoughts/feelings about me surfacing after 37 years, etc. It honored them, and I still believe it was the right approach. But underneath, I think it reveals my core relationship challenge. I hold back. I wait. I survey the situation. I let other people dictate the flow of relationship. I don’t invest until they do. And that’s probably not the best way to have a relationship with someone.

Relationships are complicated. They need both participants to be invested and engaged. But here’s the hard truth–at times, one party just won’t have enough energy to be fully invested and engaged. And that’s where I often fail in my relationships. Because when they appear to back off, I back off. When they appear to disengage, I disengage. When they appear to turn down the energy, I turn down the energy.

Even in my best relationships, I fight that tendency. With my husband, with my best friend, with my (natural) mom, with my business partners, with a new friend that I want to turn into an “old friend” as times passes. Thankfully, this tribe (my tribe) seems to get me. Maybe they know how hard it is. Maybe they see me trying. Maybe they are like me and the relationship’s quiet spaces just seem natural. Maybe they are the opposite of me and give everything no matter what.

But the push/pull is always there. Always tempting me to play it safe. Always reminding me that other people are in control of the relationship. Always encouraging me to protect myself from the pain of potential rejection.

And that brings me back to my first paragraph. It’s my (natural) dad’s birthday. I’d like to call him. And I think he’d be happy that I called. But I won’t. Not because of him. Not because of people who don’t know I exist. Because of me. Because today I lost the fight within myself.

It’s the Memories (or Lack Thereof)

A few days ago, I posted about the holidays still being a struggle for me. At that time, I had no answers, but I did have a few friends offer some perspective that was helpful. I’d like to say that I put aside my search for answers over the last few days, but that would be untrue. It all still churned in the background.

I did, however, try to focus on the moments I’ve had with my (adopted) family so I could make memories that would last. And that’s when it all hit me. It’s the memories. Or, for me, the lack thereof with my (natural) family.

While I have been in reunion with my (natural) family for seven years, I have yet to spend an actual Christmas Day with any of them. I have spent other important days with my (natural) mom and family (e.g., birthday, Thanksgiving, New Year’s Day, Mother’s Day), and while those days used to be very challenging for me, they are easier now. And I think it’s because I have memories stored from the moments we have been together. Even when we can’t be together on those days, I have a memory bank that allows me to reminisce on times we have been together and those give me great joy.

It works with my (adopted) family too. We don’t see each other on our birthdays, but I have fond memories of birthdays that we have been together. Same with Thanksgiving, Easter, New Year’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, etc. So, I recall those memories on those days and it’s like being with them, and I feel happy.

Looks like I need to find a way to spend some time with my (natural) family on Christmas Day to make the memories that will sustain me when we can’t be together. Sounds like a good project for 2020.

Hope you are making memories with your loved ones and friends this holiday season!

Why Are the Holidays Still a Struggle?

A little over a year has lapsed since I last posted on this blog. I find myself writing only when something about my adoption/reunion experience catches me off guard, which is why it’s been awhile. On most days, I’m a pro at this entire experience, even the mixed thoughts/feelings that sometimes surface.

So, why am I writing today? Because seven years into this process, I still struggle during the holidays.

After I reunited with my (natural) family, I anticipated my holiday struggle would be gone, but that first Christmas brought many of the same thoughts/feelings I had in prior years. There was still a hole…an emptiness…a sense of loss. At the time, I passed it off as the inevitable carry-over from years gone past. Almost like muscle memory. Mental/emotional muscle memory if you will.

But seven years later, I still think/feel some of the same things. And it’s bugging me because I can’t figure it out. So, yeah, that’s all I know to write for the moment.

Love Through My Eyes

I was recently asked to serve as a guest blogger for Michelle Madrid-Branch, a life coach, author, speaker and global advocate for women and children. I had been mulling over a post about love for quite some time, and decided to use it for my guest blog appearance. For those who normally read my posts, you can find the lastest one here:

http://michellemadridbranch.com/love-through-the-eyes-of-an-adoptee/

Best Adoptee Blogs for 2016

Healthline.com recently released their Best Adoptee Blogs for 2016, and I’m honored this blog was included on the list along with several adoptee bloggers that I follow. Thank you, Healthline for the mention. 

If you want to read Healthline’s preview of my blog, follow the link below and scroll down to the 4th blog mentioned. 

http://www.healthline.com/health/best-adoptee-blogs#1

Celebrating (Navigating) a 5th Reunion Anniversary

Today marks the 5th anniversary of the first time I spoke with my natural mom. I’ve known this 5th Momiversary (aptly named by my friend Sarah) was approaching, but I really failed to connect with its significance until a recent vacation. 

For those who are struck by my insensitivity, let me say in my defense, it’s because I just get used to my circumstances fairly quickly. Life is what life is. So, the longer my family reunion has gone, the more it’s just normal to me. And I’m this way about everything; not that it justifies it, but it’s true. And I think it’s because when I found out I was adopted, there was little room for playing out some big scene about it. I was adopted, I still had a family, and I probably would never meet my first one. So, that’s that. Stuff happens, you adjust. And that’s even true when the stuff that happens is you reunite with your natural family. 

But, I digress, because my point is that while on vacation I re-visited all of the texts, emails, and Facebook messages my mom (and other family members) and dad and I exchanged in those first few months of getting to know each other. And, it turns out, this is kinda a big deal. So, today, I celebrate, and I think about how I’ve navigated this whole experience, and why it’s gone so well by most standards. And I want to share those thoughts with you. 

First, I made a commitment to myself that I would enter the reunion process prepared to submit to whatever level of relationship my family members wanted. Mostly I was thinking about my mom and dad, but my commitment has played out with all of my natural family. This commitment means I have some closer relationships than I ever anticipated, and some that are more laid back, and others that are very limited or non-existent. And all of that is okay. For a relationship to work, it has to be on mutually agreeable terms. That means I couldn’t go into this dictating those terms, and I’ve been blessed by maintaining that commitment to let my family members lead the way. 

Second, I think communication has been key. I recently read a blog post that suggested adoptees carry too much responsibility for their adopted parents’ happiness (e.g. “you completed our family” or “you are God’s gift to us”), so in a reunion it’s important for a natural family (especially a mom) NOT to provide too much detail about how difficult life was without the adoptee because that adds too much responsibility for another parent’s happiness. I intellectually understand the author’s point, but I’m glad my family (especially my mom and dad) and I didn’t/don’t avoid the difficult topics. My mom’s choice was agonizing for her and carried significant consequences for her life, and I needed to hear that to understand her. And my dad was basically advised to step back from the whole process because he wasn’t ready to be a dad and a husband, and to let me and my mom go, and I needed to hear that too. And, my mom and dad have heard both the good and the bad of my life after adoption (the good tied to my adoptive family experience, the bad tied to the mental/emotional side effects), and they needed to hear that to know me. For every piece of information that we’ve shared that has been painful, I like to think that communication has also been healing, and has allowed us to get to a 5th Momiversary and an upcoming 5th Popiversary in April.

Finally, I think it’s been helpful to acknowledge that blood (genetics) does matter. As an adoptee, my entire life has been flooded with messages that are adoption-centric (e.g. family is who you choose). I have been blessed to live out those messages with an adoptive family that loved me. And I believe those messages are designed to help adoptees feel legitimate in their families, so I’m cool with them. But, those messages ever so subtly suggest to adoptees that blood (genetics) doesn’t matter. I’ve done enough research to know that’s not true, so I entered the reunion process ready to embrace my natural family as legitimate too. And, as odd as it sounds, the first weekend I spent with my natural mom’s family felt right because I was with people with whom I shared blood and genetic stamping. And I felt like that when I met my natural dad for the first time too. So, knowing that it was okay for both of my families to be legitimate has made the process easier. 

I don’t suggest any other adoptee in reunion or anticipating reunion should embrace these concepts because all of our experiences will be different. But, these things helped me, and if they sound good to you, I hope they help. 

Happy Momiversary to me, my mom, and all of the Payne family!

Becky

Vulnerable, Disappointed, Exposed

So, it’s been several months since I’ve written. I would like to say it’s because most days being adopted has no impact on my life whatsoever, and I don’t even think about it. But, that would not be true. I mean, yeah, some days being adopted means nothing more than I have lots of parents, siblings, aunts/uncles, cousins, etc. But that’s not why I haven’t written. I haven’t written because…

It all started in mid summer. My (adoptive) dad had a heart attack and needed to have stents placed in a couple of arteries. That was…weird. My dad has been really healthy for my entire life, so it was odd to see him in a hospital bed with wires and machines and all. But I didn’t realize how vulnerable it made me feel until I contacted my (natural) dad to give him an update and he said that he’d been really sick too. My (natural) dad has Type 1 Diabetes, so not feeling well is part of the daily routine most of the time, but this was different, and I knew it. Both dads are…mortal. Not good. Not good. After a few weeks of feeling out of sorts over the whole thing, both dads began recovering and I felt less vulnerable. But then this happened…

Over the course of a few weeks of mindless television watching, I heard the following phrase (or an equivalent) at least three times – “I would be okay with adopting kids, but I want the first one to be from us….” And there it is! The disappointing reminder that the “chosen” narrative isn’t quite as nice and neat as we all want to think in the world of adoption. I have thought (and thought) about the right way to explain this, and all I can conjure is a grade school narrative. At times, adoption feels to me like being chosen last on the playground only to end up on the winning team. I mean, it’s cool I get to be on the winning team, but it still stinks not to be picked first. And while I was blessed with a wonderful family in my adoption experience, I still wasn’t picked first – by either of my families, in fact – so it still sucks when I’m reminded. Don’t get me wrong, I’m cool with the fact that an individual knows he/she wants to have biological children before adopting. I am even more cool with the fact that they will acknowledge it and not try to act like having biological children doesn’t matter to them. And it’s my fault I over-think everything about my experience. But it still stinks. And I was going to write about it  a couple of months ago, until…

I often read old posts before I begin a new one. Helps me see if I’m covering new ground or re-hashing old material. So, when I began to write about being “chosen,” I read a bit and began feeling exposed, I guess. I’m sure that those of you who read this blog, but don’t know me, have no idea how hard it is for me to write anything about thoughts/feelings of a personal nature. It’s like torture. I guard ME with fierce intensity. So, coming off of feeling vulnerable and disappointed, exposed was just too much. So, I’ve been quiet. Hiding behind the wall I’ve built over time. And not just on here. I’ve withdrawn in other aspects of my life because that’s what I do when I feel exposed.

But I began this blog for a reason. And that reason was to share my thoughts as an adoptee in hopes that others can see things in a new way. And I can’t do that if I refuse to write. So, here I am…having felt vulnerable, disappointed, and exposed. And now you know. And it pains me to have told you, but I hope someone can read this and say, “Yeah, I’ve felt that too” and maybe that commonality will make them feel better.

 

 

What’s all the Fuss about Medical History?

If you have read anything about adoption, you know that adoptee access to medical history is a hot topic. I think most people understand that it’s better for adoptees to have access to their family medical history for the obvious reason – to be aware of potential health issues that run through their genetic lines. I agree this is an excellent reason to ensure adoptees have access to that history without having to jump through any hoops, but I believe there are more reasons to do it and I want to share one by way of a story. 

A few weeks ago, I visited a medical provider for an annual exam. I checked in at the front window, and the staff person verified some information, handed me a packet, and explained that it was time to update my medical history. She said my old form was in the packet, along with a brand new form, and that I could transfer my answers and update any that are necessary. 

When I reached my chair in the waiting room and looked at my old form, I saw my traditional single line drawn down the entire “unknown” column, and noted that someone else had written in script across the entire page “ADOPTED.” Ah, yes, there it was – the medical version of the reminder that I am different from other people. 

But, then, I looked at the fresh, clean page, and read it – for the very first time in my life – because I actually know my family medical history now. I was so excited to fill out that form; a form that other people don’t give a second thought. After I completed my careful review and started to return the form, I realized I had some explaining to do to the front desk staff person, so I smiled and said, “I am adopted and reunited with my natural families, so I know my medical history now.” She looked sort of confused at first, then her eyes softened, and she smiled and said, “That’s great.” 

I don’t know if she was declaring my knowledge or my reunion as great, but in that moment, the great part for me was the empowerment I felt in completing that form.