Perhaps one of the most disturbing things about my "adoption experience" is the not knowing what happened my first year of life. It was spent without my Proper Parents. Whether my first year was spent in an orphanage, a children's home, or a foster home -- it's a moot point. My first year was spent with strangers, and then I was shipped to new strangers, to a new strange land.
All I had, really was Me, Myself and I to rely upon... and the sound of my own cries, I suppose.
Any child in my same situation can say the same.
How does the first few years of development affect future relationships?
Read PPL Pages to learn facts from fiction, as medicine, science and history has researched it. As a labor of love, we took the time to gather some of it for all to read for free, so others can be empowered by advanced learning and self-knowledge.
My M.O. isn't bracing for rejection as much as it is for escape. I don't like feeling trapped or smothered in relationships, so I always make sure I maintain an element of independence for myself.
I tend to avoid (intimate) relationships, didn't start out that way though, think I like my own company and a few pints down the pub with the lads because that's a lot less complicated and I've grown to like a simple easy life
I like that term. It reminds me of when I was a floor-nurse! Back in the day, there were certain rooms lots of us would want to avoid when coming on our shift: The district certain nurses had before us, (because they would always leave us with dry IV bags and unchanged wound dressings), the district with the ventilators or empty beds, or the district with certain infamous names I will not mention... all of which meant that shift for the day or night meant it was going to be a long and hard and very busy 10 - 12 hours with no bathroom breaks.
Looking back, I always prepared myself for the worst, and assumed I would have the most challenging group, so such working conditions never really bothered me. I assumed crap, accepted crap and rarely got disappointed. It was the grating complaining from other co-workers that bothered me, and lack of commitment to caring for those who could not do it for themselves that really got to me. That's what helped make me make my decision to leave the clinical experience for complete home-care (my own babies and family). I always felt I had to go where I was needed most, so when it came between my own children and a floor full of strangers, the choice was simple: my babies will ALWAYS come first.
As a nurse on an always full-to-capacity floor of very sick and demanding patients [I specialized in respiratory and renal disorders before I left, so most patients were long-term sick people, with long lists of problems], I quickly learned how easy it is to become deaf to the cacophony of complaints and noise that surrounds a person who wishes to be elsewhere. Lucky for me and my patients, I loved being in the hospital. It was my home away from home... in fact, it was far better than being home, given I was living with my parents until I got married.
In fact, it's not at all surprising to me how or why a person chooses the job they do, based on how they were treated as a child. My nursing career was one not chosen by me, but decided for me, however, in many aspects, I cannot argue Fate's Reason and Purpose for me, and I freely accept what is given to me in that regard. I have to. What choice do I have but make sorbet from the lemons I've been given from the beginning?
The problem I see now for myself is the realization I have regarding my need for silence, yet for lots of trauma reasons, I fear silence. All my life I have been surrounded by noise, (or the anticipation of noise, it seems), so this gets confusing for me. The only way I can explain it is like this: I feel like I keep waiting for "something". What? I'm not quite sure. I relate it to "waiting my turn", and I think most of us Adult Pound Pups have this inside us, simply because we were placed to feel this way.
"where everyone knows your name", like in 'Cheers'?
I do the same, but I also like to move once a place become too trendy or popular. I don't like crowds and I don't like following groups like I'm a piece of cattle.
I have always gone into ANY type of confrontation with people: relationship, just meeting, old friends, with the same
thought that loss is a part of my life.
Like with my friend... Monday I went out with him.... Tuesday I call him and tell him all the reasons it won't work for
us to be friends... Wednesday he calls me and says things are fine and would I go with him next Monday to_______.
Of course, I'd love to. He calls every day. I expect this to end every day. He says he's okay with that. Just as
long as he knows how I am: one day at a time.
So, yes, I'm always braced for even the things that aren't yet there, to end.
"I can be changed by what happens to me, I refuse to be reduced by it." M.A.
One Step Up From Bottom \
Teddy
Comments
Solitary Confinement
Perhaps one of the most disturbing things about my "adoption experience" is the not knowing what happened my first year of life. It was spent without my Proper Parents. Whether my first year was spent in an orphanage, a children's home, or a foster home -- it's a moot point. My first year was spent with strangers, and then I was shipped to new strangers, to a new strange land.
All I had, really was Me, Myself and I to rely upon... and the sound of my own cries, I suppose.
Any child in my same situation can say the same.
How does the first few years of development affect future relationships?
Read PPL Pages to learn facts from fiction, as medicine, science and history has researched it. As a labor of love, we took the time to gather some of it for all to read for free, so others can be empowered by advanced learning and self-knowledge.
Escape
My M.O. isn't bracing for rejection as much as it is for escape. I don't like feeling trapped or smothered in relationships, so I always make sure I maintain an element of independence for myself.
I need to be free to go, whenever I need to flee.
Umm...
I tend to avoid (intimate) relationships, didn't start out that way though, think I like my own company and a few pints down the pub with the lads because that's a lot less complicated and I've grown to like a simple easy life
R
*
Avoidance
I like that term. It reminds me of when I was a floor-nurse! Back in the day, there were certain rooms lots of us would want to avoid when coming on our shift: The district certain nurses had before us, (because they would always leave us with dry IV bags and unchanged wound dressings), the district with the ventilators or empty beds, or the district with certain infamous names I will not mention... all of which meant that shift for the day or night meant it was going to be a long and hard and very busy 10 - 12 hours with no bathroom breaks.
Looking back, I always prepared myself for the worst, and assumed I would have the most challenging group, so such working conditions never really bothered me. I assumed crap, accepted crap and rarely got disappointed. It was the grating complaining from other co-workers that bothered me, and lack of commitment to caring for those who could not do it for themselves that really got to me. That's what helped make me make my decision to leave the clinical experience for complete home-care (my own babies and family). I always felt I had to go where I was needed most, so when it came between my own children and a floor full of strangers, the choice was simple: my babies will ALWAYS come first.
As a nurse on an always full-to-capacity floor of very sick and demanding patients [I specialized in respiratory and renal disorders before I left, so most patients were long-term sick people, with long lists of problems], I quickly learned how easy it is to become deaf to the cacophony of complaints and noise that surrounds a person who wishes to be elsewhere. Lucky for me and my patients, I loved being in the hospital. It was my home away from home... in fact, it was far better than being home, given I was living with my parents until I got married.
In fact, it's not at all surprising to me how or why a person chooses the job they do, based on how they were treated as a child. My nursing career was one not chosen by me, but decided for me, however, in many aspects, I cannot argue Fate's Reason and Purpose for me, and I freely accept what is given to me in that regard. I have to. What choice do I have but make sorbet from the lemons I've been given from the beginning?
The problem I see now for myself is the realization I have regarding my need for silence, yet for lots of trauma reasons, I fear silence. All my life I have been surrounded by noise, (or the anticipation of noise, it seems), so this gets confusing for me. The only way I can explain it is like this: I feel like I keep waiting for "something". What? I'm not quite sure. I relate it to "waiting my turn", and I think most of us Adult Pound Pups have this inside us, simply because we were placed to feel this way.
At the pub,
"where everyone knows your name", like in 'Cheers'?
I do the same, but I also like to move once a place become too trendy or popular. I don't like crowds and I don't like following groups like I'm a piece of cattle.
Sometimes I like to be where no one knows my name.
Always...
I have always gone into ANY type of confrontation with people: relationship, just meeting, old friends, with the same
thought that loss is a part of my life.
Like with my friend... Monday I went out with him.... Tuesday I call him and tell him all the reasons it won't work for
us to be friends... Wednesday he calls me and says things are fine and would I go with him next Monday to_______.
Of course, I'd love to. He calls every day. I expect this to end every day. He says he's okay with that. Just as
long as he knows how I am: one day at a time.
So, yes, I'm always braced for even the things that aren't yet there, to end.
"I can be changed by what happens to me, I refuse to be reduced by it." M.A.
One Step Up From Bottom \
Teddy