Becoming Real

I can't believe it.

I just can't believe it.

I am living proof that living a lie makes you sick.

Talking about...

Minimizing the impact adoption has had on my life;

being forced to pretend that I wasn't adopted to make my adopters happy;

being trained to become my adopters emotional caretakers;

not being allowed to finish a sentence or more than eight words put together, ever, to this very day by my a-dad;

being mocked for having different ideas or opinions;

and...being denied my history.

What do I mean by "sick?"

Since getting real, facing the truth, getting into therapy, finding my first mother, lots of reading, tons of reflection, I am no longer.....

Depressed; I realize now that the occasional lack of focus and unexplainable fatigue that mysteriously came and went was depression and that I'm much, much, much better now;

Anxious; Anxiety was my biggest challenge, taking the form of hypochondria, which is a particular type of hell;

A Pathetic People Pleaser; I've had to work very hard on this one;

Inauthentic; I really had to dig deep to find me; it took lots and lots of practice; What do I think about____? What do I want to do? How do I feel? Instead of...how SHOULD I think or behave or feel because it's what someone else expects. It sounds absolutely ridiculous to be in one's forties and not have any idea of how you truly feel about anything, but it's both possible and true, especially if you've been raised by someone with NPD (narcissistic personality disorder);

and all because I'm no longer IN DENIAL. I wasn't a real person. Nope. I was a walking-talking bundle of Coping Strategies.

To whom do I owe my progress?

Time to roll the credits:

Me, myself and I! For finally, FINALLY, saying...I've had enough; I deserve to find my history, my story, my mother;

Fellow adoptees like Joy and Julie and Elizabeth and Mia and Marlee and Possum and others too numerous to mention;

My first mother; a bit of a disappointment, but she's still my mother and I have a right to know her name and her face;

My lovely therapists;

My amazing, supportive husband;

And finally, author Alice Miller...for her books like "Drama of the Gifted Child," which I highly recommend to anyone with the burden of being raised by a narcissistic parent.