Musings on Adoption and Identity

17 Mar

From the moment I was born, I was given to someone else; given a life I wasn’t born to, a couple that did not create me.  I was created to be given to the Other, though I look like them, and now they are a part of my identity, so I carry otherness with me.

Now it is my skin, my DNA, so that whatever seems to fit I’m wary of.  I do not want what is given.   I want what I earn or what is different.  I’m uncomfortable with the familiar, and secretly hate those who want it.  I overhear snippets of conversation, or look at people dressed in a certain way, living a recognizable lifestyle that I could’ve glided into, and I wonder how they can stand it?  How can they be so empty of imagination to not stretch the boundaries of life in a way that causes discomfort?

Discomfort is an experience I often create for myself because when you walk away from what is given, you stretch out to hold onto to something else.  Something that seems shiny, or far away, just out of reach.  Something that can smack you in the face, or tell you this is not the way to go.  Something that can take its claws and sink in so deep that it shreds a part of you forever.

However, the other can be fascinating, enlivening, expanding.  It can catapult you toward the extraordinary, but a part of me still yearns for what is given, or wonders what it would’ve been like if I was able to live what I was born to – this shadow life that I drag along of the two people I’ve never met who created me.

Would I be the type of person who creates my own obstacles to overcome?  Would my energy dominate a conversation?  Would I quit jobs, move and rampage my way through friends?  Would there be such clear breaks, sharp indicators in my life that mark stages I’ve stood on, performing to audiences that always leave because it’s time for a new act?

Had I not been given when I was born would I be more rooted; dependable, solid, not a shape-shifter, not an airy being clouding over a shrewd mind?

I’ll never know because that’s my unlived life, the person that I can’t go back to because they never existed.  I will never be born again and held by the woman who made me.  I will always be the given girl who wonders at everything, who watches her Self live.

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One Response to “Musings on Adoption and Identity”

  1. barbara March 18, 2012 at 3:48 pm #

    this made me cry,in a good way

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