brainwashing

All posts in the brainwashing category

The Past

Published August 5, 2018 by maryleesdream

lonely

 

Last night, I woke in the middle of the night, and I felt such fear and dread.  I sought the root of the feeling, and could not find it.  I remembered that I have always felt this, and that the feeling has no name.  I also remembered that it will pass.  It will return, and it will go away again.  I think we all have these feelings.  It’s the human condition.

When I think back on my childhood, I cannot find any happy memories.  None.  The whole thing is colored a dark grey, by my adoption.  Losing my mother, and never being allowed to even speak of it, colored my life.

No family. No one. Nothing. Every day, all day.

I could not wait to escape from my adoptive parents house.  I met my husband when I was 16.  Someone who could save me, and make me whole.

“But, your adoptive parents loved you.  They did not abuse you! They raised you!”.

I know. I was there.  They tried, but I was so hurt.  I could not feel their love.  Their love was spoiled for me, because it came at the expense of my real family.  I should not have been put in such an impossible position.  I could not accept the love of the ones who I felt were responsible for my loss.

Did they really love me?  I suppose so.  I was a good enough child.  But, I was not, and could never be their child.  They had to maintain the illusion that I was.  They did not tell anyone that I was adopted.  It was a hidden family secret, one that I dared not speak of.

How I hated the phrase, “when we got you”.  Got me? I wanted “when you were born”.  I wanted my mother to tell the story, of my birth, not the story of these  strangers who somehow, “got me”.

Even as a young child, I felt this way.

It was a lost cause, from the start.  I was broken, unable to be fixed.  On my own, from the start.  I had to turn my heart to stone.

I remember, being at my Auntie Irene’s house, during the long hot summers when I was 6 & 7.  There were 4 older kids there, my adoptive cousins.  They did not like me much.  The feeling was mutual, but I was at a disadvantage.  I was all alone, and they had each other, as well as their real parents, and I was an unwelcome guest in their home.  My adoptive parents sent me there so they could both work full time during the summer.

I used to lie awake in my borrowed bed, listening to my adoptive uncle’s snores and will my heart to be hard, like a stone so I would not feel the pain of being left alone, again.  I locked my self in the bathroom, and said every curse word I knew.

I went home on weekends, and never told my adoptive mother any of it.  I never told her the sex games my cousins would play either.  I finally told her when I was an adult, and she said, “why didn’t you tell me”.  Sigh.

Would I have sadness if I hadn’t been adopted?  I’m sure.  My real mother had issues.  I still loved and needed her.

Advertisements

Maybe I’ve Got it All Wrong

Published January 14, 2018 by maryleesdream

 

Family-gallery-for-clip-art-pictures-of-families-clipartcow

 

I think my birth parents are my parents, not my adoptive parents.

I do not think I’m related to my adoptive parents at all.  I can’t understand how I can be expected to believe unrelated strangers are my family.  I was raised by, and around my adoptive family, but I never,ever thought, or wished that I was related to any of them.

They’re OK people.  Not too bright, actually.  My mother was much smarter.  More damaged, for sure, but quick, in a way the adopters are not.  Mom & I both have large vocabularies.  A-mom, not so much.

It’s not a popular point of view, but it’s one I just cannot shake.

No one likes it.  My adoptive family think it’s wrong, because my A-parents raised me, and I should see them as my parents.  My birth family doesn’t like it.  I’m not sure how they feel about it, but it seems they don’t consider me a relative, and wish I would just vanish.  Which I have.  I have little contact with my natural family, 7 years after reunion.

We may have no contact, but they are still my relatives.  No matter what everyone else believes.

Are there any others out there like me, who do not understand how we’re supposed to believe strangers are our families?  Please let me know how it is for you.

I’m 55 now

Published November 14, 2017 by maryleesdream

 

father

 

I can hardly believe how old I am.  I was young yesterday, now I’m middle aged.  Oh well, what choice do we have?  I still feel good.  My kids are grown, and life is a bit easier.  I’m enjoying this time of life, but still fearing the end.

My father did not wish me Happy Birthday.  He sent me a card once, and a check for $100.  This was when I turned 49.  Since then, nothing at all.  So, in total, he gave me $100, and bought me 2 glasses of wine, and a BLT sandwich.  And he gave me a ride to the adoption agency in his car.  That is all I got from my father.

Can I really have done something so bad to deserve this treatment?  I don’t think it’s possible.  I’m sure Dad would not shun his kept children.  But I was not kept, so I am not his child?  I guess that’s how it’s supposed to go.

The only problem is, I am his child.  He is my father.  His siblings are my aunts and uncles, their children my cousins.  His parents my grandparents, and so on.  Everyone can agree that this is not the case, but I cannot be convinced.  I have DNA proof.

Another birthday goes by.  A very hard day for some of us adoptees.  I felt, and still feel that my birthday is something to be ashamed of.  I should not have been born.  It was a mistake.  My adoptive mother was not there.  My birthday reminds her that she could never give birth.  My birthday ties me to another woman, and that’s painful for A-mom.  So, my birthday is bad.

It’s also the day my sorrow began.  The day I met my mother.  We were together for 5 days in the hospital.  Then we were discharged, and Dear old Dad picked us up and drove us to Spence-Chapin adoption agency, where they left me forever.

And, that’s why he’s not my father anymore.  Get it?  Well, I never will……

 

Another Dead Mother

Published May 17, 2017 by maryleesdream

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMy co worker’s mother died a few days ago.  Some of us from work went to the wake.  Jill’s mother looked beautiful, laid out in the casket, in a smart red suit.  Her beloved Jelly beans and a deck of cards were tucked in beside her.

Jill’s mother was 95 when she died, in Jill’s house, where they had been living together for years.  Jill was by her side when she passed.  Jill’s daughter was there too.  It was a “good death”, if such a thing can be good.

Of course, seeing Jill and her mother brought back a lot of feelings about my own mother’s death.

I was there near the end, with Mom, but not at the end.  Mom was in hospice.  I was not really a welcome visitor in my mother’s room.  I did not go to Mom’s memorial service.  I did not view her body.  She was cremated immediately.  I longed for one last look, but it was not to be.

I had no choices regarding Mom’s care, her service or her remains.  I am her firstborn, and natural next of kin, but adoption erased all that.  I was merely an unwelcome stranger.

Someday I may bury my adoptive mother.  I’ll be the next of kin.  As an only child, I’ll make all the decisions.  But, she is not my mother.  My mother is dead.

The Shunning

Published January 2, 2017 by maryleesdream

estranged-family-520w

I had some trouble sleeping tonight, so I decided to come downstairs and write a little.  It always happens at night.  The thoughts get to be too much.  I still don’t know how to quiet them.

I think of my mother’s death.  The way it happened.  The way I was treated.  My mother died, and I had to mourn alone.  I did not attend my mother’s memorial service.  She has not been buried, to my knowledge, so I have nowhere to go and pay my respects.

My eldest daughter read something that said Christians must be buried, so that other Christians can visit the graves.  This is something else that’s been taken from me, against my will.

My Mother Has Died

grave

I also think about the Shunning.  My father’s family has shunned me.  I found out a few months ago, from a younger cousin.  I had always hoped that my cousins would not hold the same views regarding infant adoption as the older generation.  I had hoped that they would not be ruled by shame, as much as their parents were.  I was wrong.  This young woman told me that I deserved the shunning, for reasons she was not sure of, but she was sure that they were justified.

It’s interesting how each side of my family reacts differently to me.  My mother’s family was not traditional.  There are many half siblings, and non-traditional family structures.  This side has been more accepting of me.  My father’s family is very traditional, considered a model family by some, and they shun completely.  Not one family member will break the ban.

I did some research into the psychology of shunning.

Shunning

It’s a cruel form of psychological torture.

My fathers family is a cruel family.  They support and approve of my abandonment as a helpless infant, and have shunned me.

Social rejection occurs when a person or group deliberately avoids association with, and habitually keeps away from an individual or group. This can be a formal decision by a group, or a less formal group action which will spread to all members of the group as a form of solidarity. It is a sanction against association, often associated with religious groups and other tightly knit organizations and communities. Targets of shunning can include persons who have been labeled as apostates, whistleblowers, dissidents, strikebreakers, or anyone the group perceives as a threat or source of conflict. Social rejection has been established to cause psychological damage and has been categorized as torture[1] or punishment.[2] Mental rejection is a more individual action, where a person subconsciously or willfully ignores an idea, or a set of information related to a particular viewpoint. Some groups are made up of people who shun the same ideas.[3

Shunning causes pain to the shunned, as it is supposed to:

Shunning is often used as a pejorative term to describe any organizationally mandated disassociation, and has acquired a connotation of abuse and relational aggression. This is due to the sometimes extreme damage caused by its disruption to normal relationships between individuals, such as friendships and family relations. Disruption of established relationships certainly causes pain, which is at least an unintended consequence of the practices described here, though it may also in many cases be an intended, coercive consequence. This pain, especially when seen as unjustly inflicted, can have secondary general psychological effects on self-worth and self-confidence, trust and trustworthiness, and can, as with other types of trauma, impair psychological function.

Why so much pain and injustice in my life?  Sometimes I joke that I must have done something awful in a previous life, but it’s really not very funny.

I wake at night, and all this runs through my mind, and I can’t stop it.  I think about my mother, how much I loved her, how she betrayed me.  I have not seen nor spoken to my brother since he kicked me out of hospice.

At my job, when someone’s parent dies, they post an obituary on the company website.  When my mother died, they did not, because in society’s eyes, she was not my mother.  She was not my mother.  She was not my mother.  That makes no sense.  Why is it only in adoption that the woman who gives birth to you is not your mother?

victum

Shunning and victim blaming happen a lot in Adoptionland.  How did something that’s supposed to be for the good of a child, turn into the hell that I’m living in?

Trying to Understand

Published October 15, 2016 by maryleesdream

family-blessing

 

 

Ever since I found my family, I’ve been trying to get back into the family.

 

I have failed.  I’m not actively trying right now, but I think about it everyday.  I try and figure out how to do it.  How to make their minds and hearts open, and allow me inside.

It has happened with a few kinsmen.  Three have welcomed me with open arms, flaws and all.  They understand the pain and anger, sympathize and know they are not responsible for causing or fixing  it. They know it’s part of me, and are willing to take me on anyway.  It’s a wonderful blessing.

I don’t use blessing in the religious sense, as I do not believe in a god who rules the world.  A blessing, a mitzvah, a good thing in the universe.

 

They are on my mothers side, only.  The wild side. My fathers family says Mom’s family was terrible.  Things too horrible to even talk about. It’s all true.

 

But somehow, my good, good father, from his good, good family managed to get together with this bad, bad family, and create me.

 

I think if I could only get them to understand, that I’m just normal, not a sick person who is out to get them.  But the more you try, the more like a sick psycho you appear, so its better to back off.

They say that I show, by my actions, that I don’t want to be part of the family.  I guess I do, but it’s really a defense mechanism.  I want to be loved so bad, but I have to seem cold and hard, so they can’t see how their rejection hurts.  It comes off looking cold.

My family actually had some sort of sit down, or at least phone chain or something, where they all decided to cut all contact with me.  This is my father’s family, the good guys.  Pillars of the community, grand marshals in the town parade, all around good, nay, great citizans.  This is what they have decided is best, for dealing with me.  Best for them, mostly.  Best for me, definitely not.

I send baby gifts to my cousins, when they have children.  I want them to know that babies are wonderful things, and to think about me, and love me despite what happened to me.  But I never know if the gifts are received, and they probably think I’m crazy for sending them.

Imagine being shunned by your kin! And for what?

If there’s anyone out there who reads this, what do you think I should do?  I love sending baby gifts.  I’m so happy to know who my family is, even from afar.  I can’t forget about them and go on with my life.  I do go on with  my life, all the time.  How does one not? I get up everyday, just like everyone else.  I have a job, and live in a big house with 5 other people.  I cook dinner and pay the bills and run a busy house,and work full time.  I do a decent job at both.  I’ve seen a few therapists, but they haven’t been able to help me.  I think it’s because there is nothing wrong with me, I just feel a certain way about things, and that’s it.  There is no evidence of mental illness.

Should I  just disappear, completely and leave these good people in peace, or continue to send gifts, and leave flowers on my grandparents graves from time to time, to let them know I’m still out here, trying to connect?

I think I know the answer, disappear.  Stop beating a dead horse.  They will never, ever accept you, no matter who you are.  They cannot admit that they may have been wrong.  It’s against family law.  I am outside of family law.  It does not matter how I feel about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good vs Evil

Published September 7, 2016 by maryleesdream

goodvsevil

 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a person good, or bad.

No one is all good, or all bad.  I think it’s a matter of perception.

I have been communicating with a paternal cousin, only through Facebook.  We have never met in person.  She is a few years younger than me, and grew up surrounded by our extended family.  I was touched when she said that she was sorry about what happened to me.  No one in my father’s family has ever expressed any remorse about my being given away.

I told her that I thought my father was a bad guy, and she assured me that her Uncle was not a bad guy.  He just made mistakes, and she was not going to judge him based on that.

That’s fair enough, but it’s a little different for me.  I am one of the mistakes that he made, and his choices affected my life in every way.  To me, he is the very essence of evil.  An entitled man, who liked to stick his dick in women (and sometimes children, if you count 14 yr old girls)  with no care at all for what his actions produced.  He left dead and abandoned children  in his horny wake.  He gave me the same amount of care that he would a tissue that he jizzed in.  Just throw it away, and don’t think about it any more.

I also shared that my father’s family does not speak to me, and my cousin told me that there had to be a good reason, because they were good people also, who would never turn on someone for no reason.

Maybe she’s right about that too.  Maybe they are good people, and I did something wrong.  I’m not the most diplomatic person in the world, after all.  I definitely said things that were very hard to hear, but what did I really, ever do to anyone, besides being born at the wrong time, to the wrong woman?

adoption

Where she sees good, loving family, I see cold unforgiving strangers.  We are blood  but I am different because my father put me outside of the family, and his blood is better than mine.

It’s all a matter of perception.

If my father is a good man, who made some mistakes as a callow youth, why does he still shun me and his grandchildren? Why doesn’t he try and atone for his mistakes?  Are these the actions of a good man?

Why didn’t he say anything to me when my mother died?  Does anyone know how much that good man, and his good family has hurt me?

If they are such good people, why can’t I see it?  Why are they hiding their goodness from me?  They seem to love each other, why don’t they love me, their cousin, their niece, their daughter?

Maybe it’s me who is the bad person, unable to forgive and forget.  Maybe that’s why I deserve this.

evil