The Subconscious Self-Beliefs in Childhood
Our self-concept in our past makes up our subconscious. If we do not go there, we will never know what is there. When I was 23, I decided to go to an adoption group meeting because I was in touch with my biological older sister, whom I contacted on Instagram when searching her name one day. It brought up my past pain about adoption, and I decided to explore it more. I was already a bit aware that adoption had a big impact on my life, from experiences I had as a teenager getting into painful relationships and needing an understanding of why I got so triggered. My mother was open to therapy for me, as long as it could “fix” my issues so they no longer had to burden her. She wanted me to be better so she didn’t have to deal with my complaints and abnormalities. I knew something was deeply wrong with me, as I had been struggling all my life with myself. My angry thoughts and pain at rejection that came out of nowhere.
My mother suggested that I call Nancy Verrier, a famous adoption writer of The Primal Wound, which explores the inner psyche of an adoptee and their trauma that they carry. My mother and a few of her sisters all had infertility issues, and adopted children with the hopes that they would fill the voids they had at not having children of their own. They balked at any mention of adoptees’ feelings, for they wanted to believe that the child was happy and did not experience pain. They wanted to pretend the child was their own, due to wanting so anxiously to have a “normal” life. This was denial of reality, because an adoptee knows the truth and the pain is always under the surface. Lies hurt a family, and cause tension. The child senses that something is wrong, and feel to blame. It is always best to be openly communicate and be honest with others in order to have a healthy relationship.
They were not taught about this in their own upbringing. I once tried to ask my mother about her mother, who is so revered and on a pedestal, after her death at a young age. She spoke about her as if she was describing a saint, someone who helped everyone in need and never did anything bad in her life. However, she said she never spoke to her mother the way I spoke to her, and told her about her anger. Her mother did not want to hear about it, so she learned to keep her pain to herself. She acts like that was a good thing.
Another aunt, who I worked for when I was 18, was always very enthusiastic about having me over. When I spoke about adoption, trying to broach feelings up, she went into a frenzy. Telling me I had no reason to be upset, and that my mother loved me very much. I felt very shut down, trying to explain how I felt nonetheless, but she kept denying my feelings. I felt like I was crazy, and it hurt very much. I didn’t understand why, in middle of my telling my story, she brought up her own adopted daughter and how she was always grateful to her for adopting her. She was trying to convince me that adoption was only a good thing, because that was what she wanted to believe. It was selfish and narrow minded of her.
So I went to my group meeting, and it compromised of about ten adults, sitting in a semi circle of chairs. I sat down, feeling somewhat unsettled about being the only Orthodox Jew there. However, they started talking and introducing themselves, as adoptees or “birth mothers,” and something inside me got triggered very strongly. I burst out crying. It was the first time in my life that I felt “safe,” to be myself. To be honest about the real feelings I had buried down inside of me. I cried and cried with relief and pain at all the years of repression. Someone gave me a tissue. It was a long journey, but I started to accept myself more and more. No longer living in hiding and fear, and facing my true pain every day.
I started to hold onto those meetings like a lifeboat, every month excited to “meet my people.” I still didn’t feel real in society, and even with my husband. I realized all the pain I was experiencing every day, from the confusion I had in me from shame of who I was. I was so relieved to finally be me.
My mother suggested that I call Nancy Verrier, a famous adoption writer of The Primal Wound, which explores the inner psyche of an adoptee and their trauma that they carry. My mother and a few of her sisters all had infertility issues, and adopted children with the hopes that they would fill the voids they had at not having children of their own. They balked at any mention of adoptees’ feelings, for they wanted to believe that the child was happy and did not experience pain. They wanted to pretend the child was their own, due to wanting so anxiously to have a “normal” life. This was denial of reality, because an adoptee knows the truth and the pain is always under the surface. Lies hurt a family, and cause tension. The child senses that something is wrong, and feel to blame. It is always best to be openly communicate and be honest with others in order to have a healthy relationship.
They were not taught about this in their own upbringing. I once tried to ask my mother about her mother, who is so revered and on a pedestal, after her death at a young age. She spoke about her as if she was describing a saint, someone who helped everyone in need and never did anything bad in her life. However, she said she never spoke to her mother the way I spoke to her, and told her about her anger. Her mother did not want to hear about it, so she learned to keep her pain to herself. She acts like that was a good thing.
Another aunt, who I worked for when I was 18, was always very enthusiastic about having me over. When I spoke about adoption, trying to broach feelings up, she went into a frenzy. Telling me I had no reason to be upset, and that my mother loved me very much. I felt very shut down, trying to explain how I felt nonetheless, but she kept denying my feelings. I felt like I was crazy, and it hurt very much. I didn’t understand why, in middle of my telling my story, she brought up her own adopted daughter and how she was always grateful to her for adopting her. She was trying to convince me that adoption was only a good thing, because that was what she wanted to believe. It was selfish and narrow minded of her.
So I went to my group meeting, and it compromised of about ten adults, sitting in a semi circle of chairs. I sat down, feeling somewhat unsettled about being the only Orthodox Jew there. However, they started talking and introducing themselves, as adoptees or “birth mothers,” and something inside me got triggered very strongly. I burst out crying. It was the first time in my life that I felt “safe,” to be myself. To be honest about the real feelings I had buried down inside of me. I cried and cried with relief and pain at all the years of repression. Someone gave me a tissue. It was a long journey, but I started to accept myself more and more. No longer living in hiding and fear, and facing my true pain every day.
I started to hold onto those meetings like a lifeboat, every month excited to “meet my people.” I still didn’t feel real in society, and even with my husband. I realized all the pain I was experiencing every day, from the confusion I had in me from shame of who I was. I was so relieved to finally be me.
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