"They spoke so highly of you"
I remember when I first wanted to tell my closest friend about what was going on at home, with my Afamily.
I remember wanting so badly to tell someone the truth.
I remember hurting and hating so much, and wanting to get rid of the bile that became a constant in my mouth and throat.
I remember wanting so much to be free of the burden inside of me.
But I couldn't.
I couldn't say a thing to those who saw my life...my world... so damn differently.
I remember some of the absolute worst things a friend/parent could say to me include: "Your parents speak so highly of you!" "You're so lucky to have parents who pay so much attention to you." "I wish my mother was more like yours."
None of these people knew what was taking place behind closed doors. None of these people knew how my days, nights and weekends were spent. None of these people knew the whole story... the truth.
All they saw and heard was the praise adoptive parents would offer anyone who wanted to know, "How are your children? What are they doing... what are they up to?"
Yes, I was a good girl. I did what I was told to do and I earned many good grades and awards. At any given stage, I tried my hardest to be the child who gave many reasons for a parent to boast and be proud. [Someone in that family had to!]
Because outsiders learned so much about me and my recent accomplishments, I was seen/perceived as being one very lucky girl who had very loving attentive AP's taking such good care of me.
With a public-perception like that, how can an adoptee ever talk about the hidden sexual abuse and emotionally needy mother who needed a child to tend to her every emotional need? With a public-perception like that, how could I ever speak the truth?
My birthday is coming soon.
It's usually a very dark time for me, for a variety of reasons.
Since I started PPL, I have often wondered if my Aparents are as proud of me now as they were when I walked off the stage at Carnegie Hall, after my stellar performance. [My performance was all for them... not at all for myself.]
With that lingering thought and memory, I'd just like others to know some wounds, some scars, some memories, (as silly and stupid and unrelated as they may seem....) never go away. Such is the legacy abuse has left this wanted/unwanted adopted child.