Exposed Ugly Lies

Ugly. The lies are ugly when they are exposed. She can no longer hide behind pure intentions. There it was straight out. That she adopted us kids because she needed children. Desperately to raise. It was not out of pure love for us. She never did think we were good. No. We were just pets to attend her liking. We could never be open about our grief of what happened to us, because it did not fit the bill of what the adopters want. Hush hush sweet children. Sweet lies that are used for other people's benefit. When I spit it at her, how angry I was that she never credited me to my feelings, and it was all for her, she became bitter and sarcastic to mock my incentive. But we all knew the truth, there was nothing to say against it as substantial evidence. And my father sat like a crazed wolf,  staring with empty soulless eyes. For how dare I face reality and expose the lie they were living under comfortably. That they are selfish uncaring fakers. Faking loving, in all the pictures of a hellish paradise of a childhood. Where children were seen and fawned but never heard. Locked their souls in a nice cage,  to never be heard from again.

When I left, after my trembling anger and testament of what she the adopter truly thought of me, and her denial and gas lighting of me, I said no more. There was no point in setting my soul aflames again. To people who would never water me.

The next day, she texted me that she was sorry for my pain. As if we can and should move along. Well, all these years were a fake and I never was the person she saw me as, so I could not lie. I ignored it. Till I caved out of concern, as my parenting little child in me was acostumed to doing, and said thank you. As if she gets a reward for all the damage done because of one sentence. That proved nothing.

BJ Lifton said that the biggest trauma for adoptees is the internal secret- that the adopters keep from the adoptee- their true identity, and the knowledge that they are keeping it from the adoptee. Yes, they kept my real parents from my knowledge, and my real great uncle, a sound sweet man whom is all I would have had left of my roots...wait maybe I would have still had time to meet my grandmother, who was mentally incarcerated but still mine. The loss is ever expounded and will take long to cease. I don't know if I will ever be the same, the innocent baby I once was before my trial.

I met a religious family of 7 under the age of 13, when my daughter was staying on their steps and not wanting to leave. I was shocked to learn that they were all related. I saw the hunger in their eyes for love, and the secrets they lived with. That even the daughter could not mention that the mother was calling her sister, and had to say it as: "The PERSON in the house is calling you." It flashed me back to my adoptive sister, who was prone to insinuating in this "witty and cool" way, and I knew I'd never understand it. I was triggered but stayed present, separating myself from them emotionally. They warmed up to me too fast, as if trying to get in my bones. Like a baby clinging to its mother. When they brought out their additional 10 month old baby, and tried shoving her onto my daughter out of "she wants to play," It was all too much and the baby was soo desperate and my daughter was too young to help. I stepped back kindly, and the 8 year old's face suddenly looked crushed. I said kindly, I must go, we may meet again. I was not responsible for reparenting children who had parents. I just wonder if there will ever be anything I can do.