I recently drafted a letter to the editor of the West Australian newspaper, and it was published on Friday 13 November 2009. In order for it to be published, I trimmed it right down to a publishable length. This is the full length version, I hope it is thought provoking.
National Adoption Awareness Week is being held in Australia from 16 to 22 November this year. It is a platform for various perspectives to be expressed, raising public awareness of the complex issues involved with adoption. I am a 1973 domestic adoptee and I am proud of the current adoption laws in this state which have evolved in line with contemporary understandings of the impact of adoption on all parties. In my opinion they represent world ‘best practice’, in which adoption is considered as the ‘last resort’ and prospective adoptive parents are carefully screened and extensively trained in the unique needs of an adopted child. Our domestic adoptees’ basic human right to information about themselves and their families is upheld. Adoptions are only arranged by the Department for Child Protection, following strict regulations, and as such no individuals or organisations here are able to profit financially from adoption. Domestic adoption has become extremely uncommon and these days we are much more likely to hear about international adoptions taking place. These are still handled by our Department for Child Protection in liaison with specific countries of origin. Parents who adopt children in this way are following their hearts to give a disadvantaged child a new home, family and life and I admire their intent. Unfortunately, however, international adoption is creating unintended consequences. Individuals and organisations in other countries, who do make financial gains from adoption, have been accused and in some cases convicted of stealing babies or coercing families into relinquishing them in order to represent the babies as orphans for domestic or international adoption. Just in the past few months news reports of such incidents have come out of China, Vietnam, India, Mexico, Guatemala, Sierra Leone and Ethiopia. Sadly, in ‘rescuing’ some children out of the very best of intentions, a market has been created leaving a cruel aftermath for all parties. The help is hurting. We didn’t know before, but now we do. Until safeguards are firmly in place to prevent the criminal, artificial creation of orphans for international adoption, I believe we should place a hold on international adoption. I hope our state will continue to lead the world in adoption practices and find more effective ways to help at risk children and their families.
I often get this question as well, and it’s the hardest one to answer: “What is it like being adopted, does it bother you?” or something similar. Of course, not knowing what it’s like not to be adopted, I find it next to impossible to explain. Sometimes I don’t think about it at all, to the point of forgetting, other times it bothers me intensely. I think regardless of where I am on that spectrum, it affects me. Regardless of how good a family you are adopted into, being separated from your biological mother at or soon after birth, or any time in life really, is a traumatic experience. Just because I don’t remember the trauma, doesn’t make it any less real or damaging.
I was blessed with an adoptive family who loved me and still does, who gave me everything I needed that they could provide, and that was/is a lot. But from reading and speaking with other adoptees as an adult, I’ve come to realise there are identifiably ‘adopted’ parts of me. Some are easy to name and describe, others aren’t. It’s all so tied up with who I am, my personality, my upbringing, my experiences, it’s hard to say how I would be if I weren’t adopted. We all have issues and often we can pin them to certain childhood events or family patterns, and being separated from my biological family from birth and raised in a different family were pretty big events in my life!
But what’s it like? I could try to describe for hours and not give you a glimpse it’s so hard to put into words. I imagine it’s a bit like having your beloved family home burnt to the ground and having to build a new one. It’s cool having a shiny new home full of trendy new things, but there’s still the trauma of losing the old one with all the family history and memories. One event doesn’t take away the other, it just is. The new one’s fantastic, but there’s something missing and it’s no-one’s fault. But you love each other and are grateful for what you have, you build new memories and traditions and move on. But it’s such an inadequate metaphor because as an adoptee you’ve lost so much more than a family home, and my adoptive family is so much more precious to me than any ‘thing’. It’s also a bit like being a thread meant for one tapestry but woven into another. You’re part of a new picture but something about your texture is different to the other threads and one end’s not anchored in. You can’t be put back into the original tapestry because they didn’t leave a gap, and besides, how could you do that without leaving a hole in the new picture?
I have two fathers, two mothers, six sisters and three living brothers (two more in heaven). I want to love and be accepted by all of them. But because of the gulf of time and perspective between some of us, I’m in for more disappointment before this ride is out.
Another common question people ask me when I tell them I am adopted is, “Did you always know?”. Thankfully in my case the answer is, “Yes”. I have known for as long as I can remember and I strongly believe the open communication my family had about adoption as I was growing up helped mitigate some of the harm of being separated from my biological family. I can’t imagine not knowing. Aside from having the right to know; my adoption, search and reunion experiences have convinced me that family secrets are intensely harmful and destructive. I once saw a fantastic cartoon of two kangaroos. One had a giraffe in her pouch. The other said, “Are you going to tell him he’s adopted?”. To me it illustrated beautifully the ridiculousness of the question. I’m glad that for my family it was a non-question. I am aware I don’t speak for all adoptees on this one, or indeed any adoption-related matter, it’s just how I answer people who ask (if they’re still interested after “Yes”!).
I started a new post about my experience of being adopted and found I actually had enough to say from my experience, and on the topic of adoption in general, to fill about a hundred posts. And while I generally feel comfortable speaking about adoption, it’s a topic that can elicit very emotional responses from people, so I think it’s worth the time and space for me to elaborate on my thoughts with each facet to minimise any misunderstanding. Here’s how I started:
So, I’m adopted. It’s not a secret, but it doesn’t often come up in general conversation. When it does, people are usually curious. And I’m frequently asked the same kind of questions. Kind of the adopted FAQ. They are: “Have you found your biological family?”, “Did you always know you were adopted?” and “What’s it like being adopted, does it bother you?”. My ‘adoptedness’ has affected me in different ways and to various extents over the years. Sometimes it’s an almost forgotten random fact, other times it’s front and centre, but I’ve come to realise how much it influences who I am, and how I feel and act, whether I’m conscious of it or not. We’re together for life, like my green eyes and an obsession with the correct use of apostrophes (incidentally, one I got from my biological mum, the other from my adoptive mum). So for those who are curious, here are my adopted FAQ, answered from my own perspective.
So for this post I’ll cover adopted FAQ #1 “Have I found my biological family?”. (Adoption language, ie. whether to use biological/original/natural/first/birth/genetic family, and who cares anyway, is a whole other post! I don’t mean biological to sound cold and clinical, just a factual clarification so people know which family I’m talking about.)
The short answer is ‘yes’. But it’s complicated, and I’m not generally given to brevity. I grew up with the expectation that I would search for my original family when I was ‘ready’. I was about 19 when I decided it was something I needed to do, with the full support and assistance of my adoptive parents (again, factual clarification only, they are simply Mum and Dad to me). The first stages happened quite quickly, then there was a long, long break in contact. It’s only been this year, at the age of 36, that I can confidently name all the members of my biological family on both sides and that I have met two of them in person.
If you watch the TV shows you could easily form the impression that all adoptees want to find their biological family and that all biological family members want to be found. You could also assume said family members live happily ever after in reunion with each other. Statistics vary wildly depending on what you read, but to give you a very rough picture it seems fair to say only about half of adoptees search, mostly women, and possibly only about half of those searches result in an ongoing relationship between the parties. Some biological family members have deceased, can’t be found, refuse contact or only want to exchange information. In some countries, including most states in the US, records are sealed or were altered, making searches almost impossible. It is such a fundamental human right, to know who you are, that I remain shocked this practice could continue elsewhere in the western world long after it was given up in Australia. There are many reasons for seeking contact as an adoptee: to obtain family medical history, to discover who you look like, to find out who you take after. Do you matter to your biological family, and are they OK?
I’m not sure what I expected of contact with my biological family, but I did hope we would reunite in some way and have ongoing relationships of some kind. It’s been harder than I thought. It has been said one of the hardest parts of being an adoptee is belonging to two families yet not fully belonging in either. You belong socially to one and genetically to another. That can be a painful and lonely place to be at times. I understand even outside of adoption not everyone fits socially with their genetic family or chooses to have onging relationships with them. Society seems to have more understanding of the pain and loss associated with those stories than for adoption stories. I often say that everyone has ’stuff’ they have to deal with from their family upbringings, this is just my stuff I’m sharing from. If I grew up with my biological family I’d have a different set of stuff.
I find I have to add a disclaimer here, because if you make comments about adoption that are not so positive, it is assumed you are either ungrateful or had a ‘bad’ adoptive family. So for the record, I can’t imagine a better adoptive family than the one I have, they are not perfect of course, but I am immeasurably grateful it was they who adopted me and not some other bunch of weirdos, and I love them like crazy. There, I said it.
Have you ever noticed that forgiveness, something that’s supposed to be good, is often a touchy subject? I’ve observed just the word ‘forgiveness’ trigger vehement outbursts from people. Some say it’s not always possible to forgive, that some actions are unforgivable. Some say, “I won’t forgive unless the person says they’re sorry”. I certainly understand those reactions. I think they come from a world view in which forgiveness means excusing what someone did, saying that it was OK and pretending nothing ever happened. A picture of forgiveness as letting someone ‘off the hook’ when they don’t deserve to be.
I’ve found a different picture of forgiveness that helps me. I see it as letting go of something I’ve been holding onto, the thing that binds me to the past, what they did and all the emotions that go along with it. Just because I let go of my end, doesn’t mean the consequences don’t stick to the other person. Consequences are inevitable. Forgiveness is a choice. I choose to exercise the control I have over my end of the ickiness, and if necessary set some boundaries to protect myself and/or others from further hurt.
It also helps to realise forgiveness can be a matter of standing by my initial choice to forgive. If I’ve carried something around for a long time, it’s only natural I may inadvertently pick it up again. I may have to keep choosing to put it down until it stays down. It’s not about letting them off the hook, it’s about cutting myself free so the hurt and anger can’t continue limiting my life. I might still live with some of the consequences of what was done, but I don’t need unnecessary baggage hindering me from dealing with those and getting on with things. Forgiving others is something I do for myself. Selfish, huh?
Maybe sometimes we think there is something noble about holding onto anger and resentment, because if we didn’t it might mean we weren’t affected or didn’t care. But the reality of those feelings is they are destructive only to us, and we lose our ability to think rationally and live effectively.
Some of my limitations and burdens I have no choice or control over. When I choose not to forgive I’m piling on optional baggage I don’t need, which is craziness. Life’s tricky enough.
Folks have been asking when I’m going to write another blog post. Really! Not just friends who have to be polite, but readers I haven’t met, on continents I haven’t visited (hopefully one day…). I find that to be crazy weird, but also pretty cool. So thanks for the encouragement, some days I really need it.
My blog posts just kind of write themselves, when I have something I really want to say it just comes out, in one sitting. Then I break the first rule of blogging (I think there’s rules…) and press ‘Publish’ before I can change my mind. Afterall, it wouldn’t be very BOLD of me to sit on it for a few days and review it in a rational and objective frame of mind before publishing, would it? That would be for the blog I plan to write when I grow up, it will be called WISE.
Actually it’s not that I haven’t had much to say recently. There’s been a lot on my mind. I just haven’t been feeling very BOLD, so I’ve been keeping my thoughts to myself. What I’ve noticed is that in not blogging, the inspiration has stopped flowing, kind of like the unwritten posts have caused a blockage in the pipeline and nothing’s coming through until I get them out.
What has caused me not to spill my guts of late? Well I have some thoughts on controversial issues that I fear (yes fear, how very unBOLD of me) would attract my very own band of personal cyberbullies. I have also been distracted by a bunch of personal issues, it has been a roller-coaster year for me. You know the type I’m sure.
For those who keep checking back to see if I’ve posted anything new, you can subscribe to my rss feed in the column to the right of your screen. If you’re not sure how rss feeds work, ask one of your computer nerdy kind of friends ’cause I have no clue! I said that with love, I’m married to a computer nerd.
Apart from just speaking my mind, I also intend to use this blog to show off people I know and admire who live their lives BOLDly so we can learn from them. People who succeed at being themselves. So watch this space (or subscribe to my rss feed…).
I think much of life flows when we let it and stops when we stop. Use it or lose it, baby! So this has been a little ‘hi’ from me, some thoughts about the creative process that no doubt have been said before, a confession as to what a chicken I really can be and a promise to update my blog more frequently.
Ciao! (Oh, and a pretentious finish, voila! And possibly too many exclamation marks, quick, press ‘Publish’.)
This morning one of my boys got up an hour before my alarm went off. It was early! As someone was up getting breakfast, the dog thought he should be fed too, about two hours before his usual morning feed time, so he started barking at the back door. This was evidently annoying my young son and he decided to give the dog a piece of his mind. He knows he’s not allowed to call anyone a ‘loser’, so this was his approach: Shadow, you are not a loser and you’re not a winner, you are just a medium size! (In other words, somewhere in between).
I had a little chuckle before dozing off again, I loved that this was the best insult he could come up with! On reflection later in the day I realised this possibly was a worse insult than ‘loser’, although far more socially acceptable. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be someone who’s willing to take a risk and ‘lose’, or better yet win, than someone mediocre any day. Imagine if that was all anyone could say about me at the end of my life, “Well she wasn’t a loser…”. I think I’d rather fail spectacularly and be a ‘loser’ with a capital ‘L’!
Now staying out of mediocrity doesn’t mean one can’t be down-to-earth or have abilities in some areas that are average or below average. Nor do I think it’s desirable to think of oneself as being better than anyone else. But mediocrity is what happens when we don’t step out and exercise our individual potential. It’s not about comparing ourselves with others, rather comparing our actual to our potential. The son I mention is developmentally limited in many ways, but he is such a treasure and has a very kind heart. He tries extra hard in so many things that are difficult for him, and in my book that makes him a winner.
Too often we have dreams and potential locked up inside us, but are too busy with everyday demands or the fear of failure, of being a ‘loser’, to step out of mediocrity. In reality there is no shame in trying and failing, the courage of stepping out makes us winners. Sometimes I don’t feel like giving something my best, or I take too many things on to be able to give my best where it is most deserved, and become too easily dragged back to the middle ground. And we all get in a rut sometimes, don’t we? But I was reminded today that it’s better to be hot or cold than luke-warm. So call me a Loser or call me a winner, but please don’t let me be a ‘medium size’!
Well I’m not in the literal sense, let’s get that cleared up from the outset. But I do seem to agree with an awful lot of what atheists have to say about the church and Christians. I’ve spent some time reading the posts and comments on an atheist blog, and what people seem mostly to discuss is their negative experiences of religion. I found I wanted to acknowledge, validate and apologise for the damage, real and perceived, by well-meaning and not-so-well-meaning people representing the church. I had some negative experiences in my church background too, however I guess at some point I decided not to ’throw the baby out with the bathwater’ and give the church another go. All people deserve to be heard and respected, but somehow I suspect this has not been the experience of many atheists when it comes to their interactions with Christians.
I suspect some Christians treat any interaction with an atheist as an opportunity to change their minds, any discussion as an argument they must win and thereby generally reinforce an ‘us versus them’ mentality. If you’re a Christian and you are having a discussion with an atheist, or checking out their blog, can I suggest (plead, implore, respectfully insist) that you:
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Listen – What is this person’s experience? Do you understand where they are coming from? Are you listening?
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Acknowledge - Individual perceptions and feelings about their experiences are valid. Let’s face it, there are things you don’t like about the church too (aren’t there? Or is it just me…).
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Respect – This is a precious person with experiences, perceptions, feelings, reason. I don’t know about you but once I have made my mind up about something, I don’t need to be told I’m wrong or made to feel like an idiot. It gets my back up and makes me more determined to prove my point. But if I am listened to and my opinion is validated I might be willing to listen to another point of view if offered respectfully and allowed to think for myself.
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Reflect – Put yourself in their shoes, try to see things from their perspective, ask questions to make sure you understand where they are coming from. Think about what they are saying to you, chances are they have really thought it through, and that’s not nothing. What can you learn from what they are saying? I was reminded to be so careful when working with children in the church to give them information and encourage them to use critical thinking and reach conclusions and decisions for themselves, as opposed to telling them what they must believe and brushing off any questions that are ‘too hard’.
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Don’t be an idiot- Sorry, I’m assuming my readership of three people is not comprised of idiots so I’m not at risk of offending anyone with the term, I’m talking to the other Christians. Please, please, please do not go, “OK Anita, I’ve listened, acknowledged, respected, reflected, now I’m going in with the big sell, I’ll hit them with my testimony, followed by Romans 3:23, John 3:16 and Acts 4:12… bam, bam, bam I’m gunna close the deal”. Don’t act like a person and then get all weird! By all means be ready to talk about your experiences and what you understand of God’s word, but answering questions that haven’t been asked is soap-boxing. Having a relationship or interaction with someone for an agenda, only so you can ‘get’ them rather than because they are a precious and amazing human being, worthy of your love and respect, is off-putting and so not cool.
I don’t think I know anyone that was talked into having a real relationship with Jesus. I certainly wasn’t. Wayne Field made the point in church the other week that some Christians run around trying to be Christ’s lawyers rather than his witnesses, I guess he said in one sentence what I’ve just taken 583 words (and counting) to say…
If you’re not a Christian, or you are an atheist, or you are anyone that has had a poor experience of church or Christians, I’m sorry.
If you’re a Christian and you want to check out an atheist blog, please listen, acknowledge, respect, reflect and don’t be an idiot! There is much they have to say we need to hear. Like with all criticism we can benefit by examining it for truth, chosing what to take on board. We plant seeds, we water, we pray, we love, we answer questions. It’s not our place to convince or convict.
I think I’d better get off my soap-box now, lecture over.
A few years ago I listened to a cassette recording (yes, a few years ago) of a talk called, to the best of my recollection, ‘The Myth of the Working Mother’. I don’t recall the speaker’s name, but his basic premise was that in a two-parent family where one parent (OK in his scenario, the Dad) is earning a full-time income and the second parent (typically the Mum) is looking at going back to work, the costs associated outweigh any financial gain. That is, once you factor in reduced government allowances, higher tax, childcare costs, buying lunches and convenience foods, maintaining a working wardrobe (I don’t mean by oiling the hinges!) getting a cleaner etc. the family is no better off financially. It was food for thought.
Some personal background here, I am married with two school aged kids. I returned to work 20 hours per week when my first child was five months old. My husband was working full-time. After child number two it took me four years to return to a paid job and that time I returned full-time. My husband left his job to be a ‘house-Dad’ for a couple of years then returned to work part-time. We tried both working full-time for a while and now I work part-time. Whew! My point being we have tried a bunch of different arrangements and I’m not trying to tell anyone what they should/shouldn’t do, just sharing from my experiences.
There are obviously more considerations to participating in the paid workforce than purely financial ones (although dollars are the biggy), such as keeping skills current, feelings of accomplishment, role modelling, contributing etc. And there are more trade-offs than the financial ones listed above, in terms of the time you can spend doing other things. This is what I’m hearing a lot about in the media at the moment with the release of a new study by the University of South Australia. To summarise (OK, and generalise) women who work full-time think they would manage their competing life demands better if they went part-time, but women who already work part-time are also wanting to work less hours.
Now before you say, “Anita, hello, we all want to work less hours!” the study indicates women working part-time are still not coping with their competing life demands because they don’t outsource or share as much of the cleaning, childcare, meal prep etc as they would if working full-time. From my own recent experience, going from an enormously demanding full-time job to a part-time job, I have found this to be true. Since I have drastically reduced my working hours the expectations I have for myself are that I will do all the cooking, shopping, cleaning, helping with homework etc. and I’m still waiting for the bit where I get to do more of the things that I want to do… and that’s with a very helpful husband.
I’m wondering if it’s perhaps also a case of ’the monster of more’ rearing its head, just like we never have ‘enough’ discretionary money because there’s always something else to spend it on, perhaps we can never have ‘enough’ discretionary time. Which leads me to wonder if just like learning to be content with the income we have helps give us freedom and happiness, perhaps being content with the time we have is a worthy aim. It seems obvious we can’t literally have more hours in the week, but just like with money there is some we must spend and some we can choose how to spend (or not to spend… I’ve heard) and it’s the second kind we want more of.
To be content financially I’ve learnt not to compare myself to others, not to place my self-worth in money, to have faith all my needs will be met and to be grateful for everything I have knowing there are many billions of people worse off than me. I’m wondering if the secret to being content with how much discretionary time I have is in not comparing myself to others, not placing my self-worth in achievements, having faith all my needs will be met and being grateful for the time I have knowing there are many billions of people in the world with far bigger problems than constantly feeling too busy!
Well it sounds like a good place to start. What about you, any thoughts to share?
My husband tells me he read somewhere that the average blogger writes three posts. It doesn’t really take much effort to be an above-average blog poster then does it? Not when it comes to quantity anyway.
I’ve never been one to do something unless I think I can blitz it. That’s not to say I succeed at everything I do, rather I quickly give the flick to anything I think I’m not going to be able to master. Thinking about it that way it sounds like a personality flaw, what a quitter! On the other hand I don’t see the point in wasting time on something I’m not going to be able to achieve to a high standard, when there’s so much to do in life and so little time.
Yes, I’m a very achievement oriented person, I find it hard to just ‘be’ without ‘doing’. And if something, like the housework, can never be completed, then I don’t want to do it! Also, once I’ve accomplished something the last thing in the world I want to do is repeat or continue it, I’m looking for something new to learn and do. Sometimes I try to embrace discipline and routine for some character building (after all, where is it written that everything I do in life must be exciting?), but it’s never long before the real me bursts out again.
Somewhere along the way I developed a belief that this is a ‘wrong’ way to be, that being routine and disciplined is better and more sensible and is how I should strive to be. It’s a very good way to be, but it’s not how I work best. I work better by putting all the momentum in up front, rather than eking it out. New, different, change is my routine, without it I fall in a hole!
What about you? Routine or change, same or new, mix of both? Is there a better/more mature way to be?
Oh yeah, and I’m not giving up blogging until I’ve written at least six posts :-p
Wife, Mum, Chaplain, Occupational Therapist, disorganisationalist
