Posts Tagged 'anger'


I have a meeting scheduled with someone I believe is my biological aunt.

I’m excited and nervous, even though it isn’t for another 2 weeks. A little part of me is pissed.

Okay, that’s a lie. A HUGE part of me is pissed. I don’t want to meet my AUNT, I want to meet my MOM.

My aunt has given me this little nugget: “I just want you to know my sister loved you when she was pregnant, and loved you after you were born.”

Thanks, I mean, that’s great and all, but I would really like to hear those words out of her mouth. People have been telling me that she loved me my whole life, but I don’t believe them.

Want to know the real reason I’m pissed?

I got discarded. Thrown away like a piece of trash. Because of that, I have a hard time forming relationships with people. Real, honest relationships. I tend to throw myself at people, to become whatever they want me to be, just to get a little affection, a little affirmation that I am a worthwhile person, that I’m not the garbage I am convinced I am.

Oh, I was too young to remember, right?

Funny how research now shows that babies need affection and attention right after birth. I was an incubator baby before they knew to touch incubator babies. As an incubator adult, I don’t know how to hug people. I stiffen and pull away. I don’t always know how to approach people. It’s not that I’m shy, exactly. I’ve gotten over the crippling shyness of my childhood. It’s more that I really can’t interpret people’s intentions toward me. I constantly question the state of my friendships, worrying that they really think I’m some sort of stinky weirdo. Well, stinky I can handle. Weirdo? Please, please, anything but that.

I’ve clung too long to relationships that are toxic, just because I can’t stand for people to leave. I cried until I was sick when each of my cats died.

I worry about my dog’s emotional health.

Do you see why I’m pissed? Irate? FUCKING MAD!

Part of me wants to totally fuck up the meeting, to go in there the bitter, angry adoptee I am. To say right out what everyone knows, but no ones says.

“If she loved me so much, why did she throw me away. If she couldn’t take care of me, what was wrong with YOU?! Now it’s convenient to let me back into the family. NOW I’m a smart, humourous, successful college student, not a premature baby with club feet.”

I won’t, though. I should be GRATEFUL, after all. That’s my natural state as an adoptee. I already feel the guilt coming on.