Before I go any further in my story, I want to be clear that no matter what, I love my parents. Do I think that there are things that could have been done differently? Yes. However, I feel that this territory goes with all parents. In the end, parents do the best they can with what they have. As I talk about my feelings of being adopted, where I grew up and being part of their family, I want it to be clear that these stories are all from retrospect. I have time and space to help me process it all and some of it is not good at all. I won’t try to sugarcoat it. There are things that I wish I could openly talk to them about, but it seems impossible.
This is my mom and dad.
They gave me a home when my own biological mother would not. They were there for me in their own way. Whatever I feel about my childhood and life in general have nothing to do with them and everything to do with me finding out who I really am. If I filter how I feel to spare people’s feelings, my story won’t be true.
That being said, I could enumerate a million wonderful things that both of these people have done for me. My dad used to take me to Stamp Club every week and share all new computer and technology with me. He also drove me to summer camp every year. My mom wrote me letters and sends me cards of encouragement. She always bought me a new cross for my birthday. That is aside from loving me.
There is no doubt in my mind that my parents love me or that I love them. But I want my story to be real.
I want my kids to be honest with me about how my actions influence their life. I try very hard to make sure that their life is different from mine but still maintaining the parts that I loved.
And speaking about my kids reminds me that my parents are good grandparents to my kids. My dad was with me (by mistake but that story is a long way off) when my oldest daughter was born. I gave her their last name. They are very important to me. It’s very important for anyone reading this to know this.