The Powerlessness of Adoptees

This evening, I had one of those moments.

As usual, it was triggered by talking to my (narcissistic) adoptive father. Actually, he does all the talking. I do the listening.

And while I've learned to emotionally detach, mostly, I was suddenly overcome by a feeling of helplessness. Powerlessness.

My mother gave me up. I had no voice. A social worker placed me with a totally unsuitable couple so desperate for their very own baby that they made me pretend I wasn't adopted. I had no choice. I had no choice but to play along with the whole I'm not adopted sham.

And here I am, in middle age, still pretending to be the good, dutiful daughter when I feel like an abductee and not an adoptee.

I call the shots in the rest of my life. I'm a take charge kind of gal, maybe to make up for the fact that I was never really in charge of the big stuff. Being transferred. Ending up in a home I didn't like, where I felt like an outsider. Pretending to love parents I secretly couldn't stand. Smiling all the way. What other choice do you have when you're a kid? Where else can you go? It's survival. When I hear of other adult adoptees who've drifted away from their aparents, I wonder, what happened to them? Did they feel like that, too? Do these intermittent, yet powerful feelings of powerlessness ever fade?