Dealing with Grief: It's a Solitude Thing

In response to my previous post, Third Mom Margie (a must read) and social worker Leroy Dissing (another must read) expressed their hope that I had support in dealing with my adoption related grief.

Yes. And no.

My husband is a wonderful listener and I talk about it with him almost daily. My therapist is amazing and is a troubled adoptee's dream come true. Sometimes, I have a nightmare that Dr. Laura has taken over her practice and she scolds me for being an ungrateful big baby and to quit whining about being adopted because it's no big deal.

But as for my friends, and I have some great ones, they just don't seem to GET adoption. Invariably, they nod and listen and feel compelled to say something like, "Yeah, well, my mom treated me like such and such and I wasn't adopted" or "Sometimes I wish I was adopted because my parents are such a nightmare and it freaks me out I'm related to them." That kind of stuff. On my birthday, I finally admitted that my birthdays make me sad because it was also my relinquishment day. This seemed to distress my friend and she tried to make me feel better by saying another way to look at my birthday was it was a day that friends and family could honor me...or something along those lines. This only made me feel worse.

All this just seems to highlight the isolation that adoptees can feel...even when surrounded by caring people with the best of intentions. Being adopted is such an odd, peculiar thing and everybody who isn't adopted seems to have an opinion on what it is and what it isn't. But most of all, when one finally talks about it, you can sense the other person's discomfort kick in.

But dealing with grief - in semi-solitude - is welcome. I've spent the whole week taking long walks with my dog, often crying, and I'm learning to experience feeling intense emotions after walling them off for so many years. In the process, I'm getting to know myself better and today, I'm feeling calmer and much more focused.