A letter to one of my struggling adoptees...

Image result for letter envelope
Dear little one,

I know you are hurting. I know you feel loss and are confused. I know you cannot make sense of your life story and I know this is making you act out and rebel at times and generally want to control every aspect of your world and I know you cannot tell me why or how you feel and cannot express exactly what it is and I know you may never be able to express your loss and pain even when you can read all the words and comb through all the Social Worker reports.

I know this is why, for instance, on a ferry to a foreign land on a mini cruise, you spent time screaming and turning lights on and off and slamming the bathroom door. I know it made you hide under the bed whilst laughing at us for doing this. I know you were trying to find some control in an unknown place. I know you didn’t mean to be challenging and I know you don’t know why you were being like this either.

So, should I not take you anywhere new? Should I keep everything the same, day in, day out, safe in your not-so-new home now? Should I cease to give you different life experiences and show you amazing things in order to keep, well, order?

But you also love new challenges…you love museums, seeing new things, you love travel, you loved the ferry, you loved looking over the side and watching it pull away, you love discovering new things and you love having the freedom to run and explore when you can. You demand to go out and go somewhere new, you even demanded a trip to Ikea as you wanted to look at things. You keep nagging to go on a plane…so should I keep you at home where it is safe and familiar so that your feelings of fear, insecurity and lack of control in your environment be kept at bay? What would you want from me, dear one?

I know that you love me, I know that you love being with us all and I know that you love your now not-so-new family and friends. I know you love your toys and your dogs and I know you love you room and your clothes and all the choice you have.

It worries me that you are an absolute angel at school and not at home. It worries me you are spending all day watching your back and ‘being good’ and I know that you don’t know why you are doing this and are becoming an expert at being two different people. Should I be pleased how well you are doing at school or should I complain that you clearly can’t feel safe as you are holding your true self back- because, after all, they all love you there, they want a class full of you. They don’t know you though.

To me, you sometimes speak about your loss, a loss that you don’t remember. There are characters in your life that you know about but tell me you don’t remember. You can only tell me about this loss after you have had a meltdown. It takes this to open up but you are opening up to something you can’t put words to in order to make sense of it all. Does it help you to talk to me? I hope that it does. I want you to feel you can trust me, trust all of us.

I fear that one day you will reject me, reject us all, in favour the unknown, the missing jigsaw piece. I fear you will eschew your family who you will have spent the majority of your life with and who have given you all they can and helped to guide you through your past loss and fears.

Even so, dear one, I will be there. I will help you make contact and I will support you. My heart will break as you try to mend yours and I will be there to either celebrate with you or commiserate if things are not as you hope. I will be there if you choose to never look into your past and help you deal with that decisions too. My heart fears for your future as I know how much you struggle to understand everyday life, let alone your past.

I hope that you become a happy, well adjusted adult who has self confidence and is kind to others. I hope that you realise you are loved and have always been loved.

Our futures are so uncertain but I hope you can look back and know we tried our best for you and despite your fear and inability to cope at times, we tried to give you and show you the word and to experience the best life we could give you. We have so many years ahead together- I hope they bring excitement that overrides fear and togetherness that overrides loss (at least on a day to day basis, I know it will never leave you completely). I hope you will no longer need to turn all the lights on and off and on and off (both metaphorically and physically) to gain control in your life.

I always have hope for you,




Mummy xxx

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Confessions of an adoptive mother- all about fear.

"Where's the mummy? Where's the daddy?" the not so normal viewpoints...

Top 5 of everything! Adopting start to finish.