Dear Adoption, I’m Done Telling Your Story
For 30 years I told your story about my life. I said all the right words. I told them how you saved me, how you gave me a better life. I told them you were the best thing to ever happen to me, that you made the difference in my life.
I lifted your story high and never once questioned it. You were always the solution but never the problem. Adoption, you were my trophy, and I displayed you proudly on my shelf.
You said, “Tell them you are grateful and live like it.” So I did. You said “Tell them she loved you so much she gave you up.” And I did, happily.
You told me I was chosen and I instantly felt like I had purpose. You said, “You are the example of adoption done right, so be it.” And I did so, willingly.
Adoption, you told me what to say and you taught me how to say it. You scripted every word so carefully, masking what was just below the surface. You twisted the narrative so well!
But not anymore.
How does it feel now, adoption? How does it feel that I no longer tell your story? How does it feel knowing I’ll never put on the blinders again? The fog was thick, then it thinned, and now my vision is crystal clear.
I’m your worst enemy, adoption. You stripped me of so much in the last 30 years, so now I’m stripping you of the one thing you cherish most: your precious, rose-colored narrative, now no longer mine.
My narrative begins now. …Are you ready for it?