You Will Be Assimilated

by Laura

Again, this is about processing. It’s self-absorbed. Introspective. Boring as hell. Even self-pitying. :sigh: because I am having a hard time trying to figure this out. I am torn between two family dynamics, as I’ve written about before: one with which I grew-up; old and familiar, comfortable, the devil-I-know. One, very new and unfamiliar, uncomfortable, the devil-I-don’t.

I’ve sought a bit of counseling on this. I probably need more. But I am beginning to see that the issue may not just be me. It’s much more complex than that and is about as multi-faceted as the Hope diamond. And about as hard a rock to crack.

There is an unnerving sense growing within me that I could lose that part of me given me by my adopted family. That I will, indeed, be assimilated by my birth family. There was an over-arching message, spoken and unspoken, that I “belonged to them”; I was “one of them”; which, at the time of our initial contact, was comforting, warming, better than I ever hoped for from a bunch of strangers who were, just now, recognising our relationship. It was heartening as well, and encouraged me to continue the research (as mind-bendingly complicated as it often got).

But now (oh! forgive me!), the fear of abandonment, something EVERY adopted person has lived with ALL their life, has given way to a fear of being lost, my past ignored; the things that made me who and what I am glossed over as so much baggage, detritus, in the quest to make me “theirs”. The desire to leave the past in the past, to move forward from here, to build a new future all of us together, leaving my having been given up for adoption almost forgotten; it is understandable… admirable, even. But that past, all 61 years of it, contains the vast majority of ME:  How do we just set it aside? Why would I want to?

Anyway, I don’t WANT to be assimilated. I want to be embraced. I want to be understood and accepted as I am. And I am going to be vastly different, because I wasn’t raised the same, in any way, shape, or form.

And that’s okay. I knew this before making contact, even as I fell into that contact.

Yep. It’s a bump in the road. But it’s also trying to figure out what to do and where to go from here. And how far do I go to keep the peace? And how much do I assert who I am? Now that we’ve found each other…

and you can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.