Lightning Crashes

In Its Shadow

In the shadow of the skyline,
very far away,
the lightning rod that could pull the storm from me.

    Right now I am in my last clinical rotation in nursing school, and then I will graduate, take the NCLEX and be an RN (god-willing).  Despite that (or possibly because of it), I have absolutely no interest in this rotation.  It is awful.  8 days in a row, each 8 straight hours of practicing being a charge nurse/nurse manager.  My days consist of delegating, magnet meetings, IT meetings, following the real nurse manager like Peter Pan's shadow and, you guessed it - MORE meetings.  Since each unit in any given hospital only has one of those things per unit, each of us has to be on a different floor, so I have no friends to keep me entertained either.  To top it off, I am at the most boring hospital in the greater Philadelphia area: the VA.  Now, I'm not knocking the vets or saying they don't deserve the best, but God bless them, the hospital is DULLSVILLE.  And although I am in the emergency department, it barely qualifies.  The ER I will be working in come August handles 300+ patients a day.  The VA handles 30.  Tops.  It's not even a licensed receiving facility (for ambulances) in the Commonwealth, however that rule gets bent to accommodate the attached nursing home patients and the occasional wayward TransCare ambulance bringing some vet in from home.  Awesome.

    The VA is located right on the outskirts of the heart of University City, dwarfed by its famous neighbors, the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania and the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, home to some of the best trauma services, pediatric specialties, and general medical care in the world.  Two places where I have seen miracles happen and witnessed some of the most interesting and inspiring patient journeys begin, make pit-stops and sometimes come to an end.  I have learned a lot in those hospitals.  I love every minute I spend in them, and I find it depressing to walk in their shadows, thinking about what I'm missing and where I have to go instead.  Our fantasies don't matter.  Our dreams sometimes remain as such.  We do what we have to do, we go where we are tied, where we are obligated to be, no matter how unfulfilling an experience it might be.  No matter how much we may crave something more, something bigger, something better.  We get a little taste of what we could have, and from then on we want it.  We are unable to feel comfortable settling for anything less, though sometimes we have to.  We do what we have to do because there is no other choice.

    Today I heard from my real mom for the first time in a couple weeks.  Prior to that, there was one email response (to like, 2 or 3 of mine) where she ran down the list of things that are going on in her life (read: that i am not involved in) and glowed about her sons (who i barely know and never get to see) and expects me to be thrilled about it.  It sucks, because she doesn't go out of her way to talk to me, ever, and thinks that being superficially loving via text message will pacify me enough to wait for her a little longer.  She makes a lot of promises.  Before she went in the hospital to deal with her pain/depression issues it was "Once I get into the [hospital] program, i will be better, and I will be able to get to know you and spend time with you."  Then once she was in the program it was, "After I get out and get settled and used to 'being me' again, I will come up and see you all the time."  It's been weeks and now it's some shit I don't even remember sent via text message like, "Once the boys get out of school/i stop being in pain/i get my life in order i will be able to come to your graduation/focus on you and the boys/keep my promises" blah blah blah.  But it's all the same.

    I have driven down many many times to see her.  I have put aside work, a banquet party, studying, and school projects just to be with her.  Visited her in the hospital the night before a big test.  Drove home at 3am to get a few extra hours in.  And the truth is, I don't mind.  Especially if she can't make the drive because she is in pain.  I WANT to see her.  But like I said, she doesn't try to find me, seek me out, talk to me, see how I'm doing, know me.  The only responses I ever get from her are just that, responses to my prompting.  It isn't her giving me "space."  It's either laziness, or apathy, or something worse.  She makes plans with me and then breaks them.  She has promised to come see me SEVERAL times, have lunch/go to the flower show/just visit and has not followed through ONCE, not since our very first meeting. 

    The thing is, I am upset.  I'll tell her but she'll just make what she thinks is a funny joke.  It's not funny.  I can't talk to you, I can't not talk to you.  I can't not miss you.  Of course I'm going to give her second, third, eighth, one hundred thousand chances.  She's my mother.  She IS me.  Some of these things she does... it makes me aware of how I can treat others sometimes, and I'm making a conscious effort to NOT do it, because it's a SUCKY WAY TO TREAT SOMEONE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO CARE ABOUT.

    Sorry.  But it infuriates me.  I will never leave you.  I will never cut off contact.  I can't.  I need her, I need to know her and have her in my life.  It's like I'm addicted, you know?  Like, chocolate or cigarettes or something.  Or, the way she acts, maybe crystal meth or heroin would be a more accurate comparison.  I don't know.

    My graduation is fast approaching.  She is invited and insists she wants to come, but who really knows.  Now I'm not even sure if I want her there.  I went through hell to get an extra ticket to the nursing school's private graduation (got it) and she can't even give me a PHONE call when i BEG for it.  The truth is, I don't want to have to explain to my a-parents why she isn't there.  I don't want this.  Why can't ONE THING in my life just go smoothly?

Adoption sucks.

They don't advertise this part.

They don't advertise that ALL AROUND, everyone has to take exactly what they are given.

Traffic Patterns

At best you could have confessed,

that you're a big mess

and that you're so damn weak.

    I leaned my head out the window as I am known to do... taking in the wind, the sunset, the smell of summer and BBQ.  Feeling warm, comfortable and totally intent on enjoying the evening; sirens and awaiting trauma victim be damned. Not insensitive, just not out of the ordinary.  Pretty music sang back-up to the crackling of the scanner and the main street in the township was that awesome, late-afternoon-glowy scene, still busy, winding through the end of rush hour.  To others, we're disruptive to this setting: changing traffic patters, piercing the air with shrill sounds and reminding them that all is not well somewhere.  Kids on street corners wave and mothers sling arms protectively around them to keep them on the sidewalk.  College students scatter backwards as we come up fast and push the red-light.  Brakes and tailights show we are an intrusive blip, coming from nowhere, storming through their lives, their afternoons, like a ten-second hurricane and gone just as quickly leaving a mess behind for them to sort out.  But to us, there's a rhythm to it all.  You go right, we'll go left, switch siren frequency, cross the white line, heavy same-flow traffic means crossing the yellow line, airhorn for the pedestrian-heavy red-light intersection, watch the mirrors for reference points (too close to that truck), wave to the kids, smile, pay attention, enjoy the ride.  Every "hot" ride we take by nature risks the lives of everyone onboard, everyone on the road, and everyone waiting for us at the end of our trip.  We are supposed to weigh the risks and benefits of the initial dispatch - is this person's condition life threatening?  Enough so to put many other lives at risk?  If so, the lights and sirens are allowed.  If not, we are by law required to obey all traffic laws when responding to that patient.  But is this how things actually happen?  Well... no.

    The problem is, we can't always know for sure if the dispatch is accurate (many times it truly is not).   Sometimes the patient worsens between the time of the 911 call and our arrival.  "Dizziness" deteriorates into "unconscious."  Sometimes the caller is distressed and unable to give an accurate report.  "Finger cut" in actuality is "Amputated hand."  That in and of itself is enough to pardon the lights and sirens stretch.  Like so many other times on the job, we are required to make this decision with a lack of crucial information.  We don't really know what we are getting into.  And once you turn on the lights, you can't turn them off in the middle of the roadway.  Talk about confusion.  If you're going to do it, you gotta commit to it, and everything that comes with it.  If we don't get there fast, someone could die.  But if we use unnecessary risk, someone else could die.  So why risk it?  Well, we know there is someone waiting who needs us, who could hypothetically be in life-threatening danger, and everything else... everything else is possibility.  Everything else is, theoretically, in control.  But we all know that isn't true.  Things you think are in your control sometimes aren't.  You can't control the other driver's choice to swerve to the left instead of the right.  You can't keep someone from coming to a full stop right in front of you.  All the airhorn in the world won't stop that 5 year old from running out into traffic.  The light is GOING to turn red.   It always does.  You can't stop it from turning red.  But you can choose what you are going to do now.  Do you blow through the intersection without stopping, and just pray everyone hears/sees you coming?  Do you come to a full stop and wait for it to turn green?  How many minutes will you save?  How many will you waste, that might have saved a life?  I guess the answer might be proceed with caution.  Try your best to find a happy medium.  Slow down at the red light, blow the airhorn, look both ways and proceed if it looks safe.  There's always a risk.  Either way there's a risk.  Either way you might let someone down.  You might let yourself down.  Either way someone might get hurt.  Too much risk and you'll create destruction all around you.  Too much hesitation and you'll miss the opportunity you were given. What do you do?  What can you do?

The only thing you can control is yourself.  The only thing you can control is how you react to what everyone else is inevitably going to do.

    My frame of mind shifts as the ambulance comes to a stop.  We made it, we've made the right choices so far (presumably).  Now? Game time: no more enjoying the night.  I do a mental checklist of the things I want to take up with me (jump bag, collar, backboard, CIDs) and throw them on the stretcher, but try to keep my mind semi-blank.  If you approach a patient focused on what you think you should be seeing, you might miss what's actually there.  The apartment complex we're at is on top of a hill, and I can see the street at the bottom where we turned in moments before.  The traffic pattern is still sorting itself out.  There's a close call as a car tries to pull back into a lane from where they pulled over to let us through.  Just then, the medic's chase car throws it all into chaos again as he flies through, lights and sirens ablaze.  I sigh and lead my crew into the building, shoving the stretcher roughly into the elevator.  There's a cop already in there.  He presses the floor number.  The medic slides in at the last second.  I'm sure I scowled.

    "So what's the matter with you, Chief?"  He smiles and pokes me in the ribs.  "Lighten up... what the hell are we going to anyway?"

    Truthfully, sometimes I like not knowing what I'm getting into. Sometimes in order to take the risk, it's better to go in blind.  It may not be safe or healthy, or the right choice but... if I always knew, I might never go.  I might be too slow.  I don't want to make the choice.  I don't want that responsibility.   

    "Fuck if I know."  I watch the sunset disappear as the elevator doors slide closed.  "I didn't read the dispatch printout."

Well, if someone had told me THAT...

Please head over to Suz's blog, Writing My Wrongs and read her most recent post:

White Flag Realities

The truth about surrender + common misconceptions and beliefs about adoption concisely reported, and with great style, per usual. :-)  Thank you Suz.

Who we are.

    

I do not usually have conversations with adoptees.  I read their blogs.  I comment.  I post on lists and get responses.  But I do not usually have conversations with them, whether it be on IM, over the phone, or in person.  The last time I did was in person, in the context of a EH-list-family meet-up in Philly, and it was great.  It was totally great and lots of fun, but at the same time, we didn't really have one-on-one time and thus, although we shared, it didn't get "too real" for me.
    I was supposed to make plans to have lunch/dinner/something with this adoptee sometime this semester (I have clinical literally down the street from where she goes to school).  I haven't followed through.  Now, this girl is AWESOME.  I mean, she is literally one of the coolest people I have ever met and totally open and just... she's freaking amazing.  There is noooo reason why I shouldn't be pursuing a friendship or at least following through on lunch plans!!  But I haven't.  Why?
    I am realizing that I am afraid of adoptees.  I'm not entirely sure what I'm afraid of, but I am.  I think, on some level, I'm afraid of being validated, I'm afraid of hearing and seeing what I feel reflected in another person.  It makes it real.  It makes it too real.  It means this isn't going to go away, that I'm not going to wake up from this with everything alright.  When I do talk to adoptees, I have to actively focus, or I can feel myself creating distance.  I can feel myself pulling away, packaging up my feelings and separating them from the conversation.  Because, to immerse myself, and to allow myself to identify with another adoptee, makes me real.  It means I also have to allow myself... to be real, to exist.  That might sound a little ridiculous and BPD (see last post) but, I don't mean it in a dis-associative sense.  I just, I didn't know I was real until very recently.  And also, I'm absolutely terrified for them (other adoptees) to hate me, or dislike my view on adoption.  I'm absolutely terrified to find out I don't belong again.  To find out I don't belong in the one place I have to belong.  That's an inevitable finding for me, wherever I go.  I'm terrified for it to happen here.

    I WAS talking to another adoptee tonight, trying my best to TRY.  And what we were talking about is my current debate: whether to change my name or not.  Now, if you've been reading for a long time you might recall a previous post of mine in which I discussed all the different names I've gone by and how I've NEVER really felt like a Robin.  And I said that to this adoptee.  I said, I've never really felt like a Robin. Actually, I've never really felt like... anyone.  And it just hit me.  This whole post, the idea of distancing from other adoptees, the feeling of not being real, the feeling of not being anyone.  I just felt... strange.  This might not be making sense, so bear with me here.

    I spent a lot of years living in denial.  Not just about adoption but about, like, reality.  I was a daydreamer to the extreme.  I created elaborate fantasies and dream worlds and I savored my daydreams like someone would savor food, or a comfortable bed, or a great piece of music.  I could literally disappear inside my head for hours.  I LIVED in my head, I lived in my creations.  A lot of the time I was a superhero, I was a movie star, I was a famous singer.  My teacher was mom, my camp counselor was my mom, a Hollywood actress was my mom.  Elaborated and detailed alternate lives, scenarios, full-length movies, delusions I cooked up to escape the life I hated.  Everything was better in my head.  I wanted so badly for my dreams to be reality.  My imagination was so vivid I really almost believed I was there.  At times I thought I *could* literally feel what I had dreamed up.  The problem was, at some point I started confusing reality with fantasy.  I don't know exactly when it started happening, but it did.  I know it coincided with my "bipolar" diagnosis and the ensuing medication years.  Those medications, combined with my being pulled out of school for months on end, lack of friends (books were my best friends in middle school), lack of social interaction... all of that fueled my fantasyland delusions and ensuing bleeding/blending into my real-life.

    The thing is, I didn't need to dream up drama.  I didn't see, I had a made-for-Lifetime-TV movie already in my real life.  Being adopted, especially the way the Kurtz agencies do it up, is about as dramatic, heart-wrenching and epic as it gets.  Finding out who I am, where I came from, who I look like... that is as real an adventure as there is.  Buuut... even when I started looking, really searching, I still didn't see that.  In a sense, I still preferred my fantasy world.  But as I connected more to my search and my past and drew myself out of my fantasy land, the more I realized that I had something real to be interested in.  Although, it didn't make me feel happy, or complete, or alive.  I cried all the time.  Incapacitating crying.  Not a good feeling.   And I didn't truly connect to it.  In a sense, I think I thought one of my fantasy worlds had actually come true.  This must be something I dreamed up.  Especially when I was finding out my records in Georgia didn't exist - a friend of mine who was helping me search said, "WTF, were you even actually adopted??"  I laughed but in my head I was like, I dunno!!! Maybe not!?!?!  Did I make this up??  No, seriously.  I couldn't tell where fantasy ended and I began. 

    I only ever started feeling real, feeling alive, feeling happy, feeling like i am *someone*, I am concrete, and i belong somewhere... when I met my mom, and as I get to know her.  The more I get to know her, the more I feel like *me*.  The more I feel like I am getting pieces of me back.  And I have been feeling very strongly lately that I want my name back, too.  That I won't be complete without it.  I feel much more like a Brandi than a Robin.  I don't care what people say, and I don't appreciate people insulting the name (yes, several people have made fun).  My name was supposed to be Brandi Lauren, after my mom.  It is my name, and I find myself feeling very possessive about it.  I am... very surprised by my strong feelings of attachment to the name.  I want it, and I don't want to be Robin anymore.

    Maybe it IS just me trying to find something real to hold onto.  To keep me grounded, to make me real.  I don't think so.  It may help me feel complete, but I already know I'm real.  I know I was wanted.  I know I was someone... I still am.  I just started out Brandi.  I was supposed to be Brandi.  I want to be who I am, not who I was forced to be.

    There's this scene in the final season of Buffy, where Willow is essentially in magick-rehab, after OD'ing, going off the deep end and trying to end the world.  She's with Giles and she tells him how she can't believe he's helping her after what she did, that she thought he was going to kill her.  And the following:

Giles: "Do you want to be punished?"
Willow:"I... I wanna be Willow..."
Giles: "You are. In the end, we all are who we are, no matter how much we may appear to have changed."

  I wanna be Brandi.

Open Records, Open Minds: Psychiatry & Adoption

Pt. 1: Missed & Dismissed

This was prompted by a post from Denise, aka Second Chance Mother, called "On the Borderline."

FYI: this is difficult for me to put out there - I am extremely sensitive about anything to do with my actual or perceived "psych" conditions.  But I feel, in the spirit of dealing with it and growing and overcoming, it's absolutely something I have to put out there.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder very young (6th-ish grade) and always felt... well, that I wasn't, really. At the time, I chalked that up to a disease symptom and complied with treatment.  For years.  For years, I took everything they gave me.  However, in college, when I really started researching and "questioning" (read: messing with my medications), I thought I might have Borderline Personality Disorder, too.  Another therapist in a long line of therapists agreed with me.

Cut to today: off all meds and dealing with my adoption issues... I'm POSITIVE... absolutely positive that my issues are adoption related.  100%-no-doubt-in-my-mind, identity/adoption related.  The DAY I had it out with my real mom, I suddenly wasn't so angry and depressed anymore. Even in seemingly un-related areas of life.  I wasn't as argumentative, I was quieter, I was calmer and able to control myself in ways I had never been able to before.  Just having her in my life and available made me better.  Not made me "feel better" temporarily or just with family issues, but actually made me better.  Take it for what you will but i feel adoption-related disorders are continually missed and dismissed by health care professionals.

Clearly a sore spot for me... wasted years that could have been spent dealing with REAL issues... instead I was dealing with fake diagnoses and resistant docs.  Looking back now and doing my own research, I think it is MUCH more likely (putting it likely: in my opinion, i'm sure) that I had/have RAD: Reactive Attachment Disorder due to my adoption.  I was a perfect candidate - why has no one ever mentioned it to me?  It is a technically "new"-ish actual diagnosis, but the idea of it has been around for a long time.  It's just super controversial.

Part of my problem with therapy is that I view myself as having a good understanding of my issues.  I KNOW when what I'm doing is inappropriate, unhealthy, even outright crazy.  I know.  Just sometimes, I choose to do it anyway.

I have always found myself to be as smart as, if not smarter than, my therapists and psychiatrists.  When younger, I often was manipulative and would run circles around them tricking my way into whatever it is I wanted at the time.  I am an EXCELLENT player in the "Beat the Therapist" game.  Truth.

Part of the reason for this is that they didn't treat me like I was smart.  They also didn't address issues that hit home with me.  Ever.

The curious thing (to me) is, EVERY therapist I have had knew I was adopted, knew I had parental issues, etc. etc. yet the topic/situation was NEVER addressed with me.  Never.  The first one to speak to me about it was my most recent, and only because I brought it up to him.

Perhaps if I had been approached with something that I could relate to, something validating ("Yes, you feel this way and you are not alone, and it is because of something that happened to you which you had no control over), PERHAPS I would have wasted less time running circles and grown up a little happier.

Why isn't this acceptable? Probably because of the "adoption is a good thing" mentality.  Duh.  But I'm sick and tired of it.  I'm sick and tired about the only time the world hears about adoption and attachment is when some sicko AP does some crazy "re-birthing" or "holding" or other awful child torture so-called "bonding and healing" experiment crap.  No, that is NOT what I'm talking about here.  That's crazy.  I'm talking about the need to openly acknowledge adoption as a root cause of psychiatric disorders and therefore, allow them to be treated appropriately.

Let me put this in perspective.  Here are the "signs & symptoms" list for Bipolar, BPD and RAD:

BIPOLAR DISORDER (Children - http://bipolar.about.com/cs/kids_diag/a/red_flags4.htm):

Very Common

• Separation Anxiety
  
• Rages & Explosive Temper Tantrums (lasting up to several hours)
  
• Marked Irritability
  
• Oppositional Behavior
  
• Frequent Mood Swings
  
• Distractibility
  
• Hyperactivity
  
• Impulsivity
  
• Restlessness/ Fidgetiness
  
• Silliness, Goofiness, Giddiness
  
• Racing Thoughts
  
• Aggressive Behavior
  
• Grandiosity
  
• Carbohydrate Cravings
  
• Risk-Taking Behaviors
  
• Depressed Mood
  
• Lethargy
  
• Low Self-Esteem
  
• Difficulty Getting Up in the Morning
  
• Social Anxiety
  
• Oversensitivity to Emotional or Environmental Triggers

Common

• Bed-Wetting (especially in boys)
  
• Night Terrors
  
• Rapid or Pressured Speech
  
• Obsessional Behavior
  
• Excessive Daydreaming
  
• Compulsive Behavior
  
• Motor & Vocal Tics
  
• Learning Disabilities
  
• Poor Short-Term Memory
  
• Lack of Organization
  
• Fascination with Gore or Morbid Topics
  
• Hypersexuality
  
• Manipulative Behavior
  
• Bossiness
  
• Lying
  
• Suicidal Thoughts
  
• Destruction of Property
  
• Paranoia
  
• Hallucinations & Delusions

Less Common

• Migraine Headaches
  
• Bingeing
  
• Self-Mutilating Behaviors
  
• Cruelty to Animals

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER - (http://psychcentral.com/disorders/sx10.htm):

• Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment    
• A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation
• Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self    
• Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)
• Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior    
• Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days)
• Chronic feelings of emptiness    
• Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights)
• Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms

REACTIVE ATTACHMENT DISORDER [ADULT - www.radkid.org]:

• Avoidant
  • Unreasonable or inappropriate anger
  • Hostile
  • Overcritical of others and self
  • Intolerant of rules and authority
  • Lack of empathy or remorse
  • Views others as untrustworthy and unreliable
  • Shallow/Vain
  • Feelings of self-importance
  • Feelings of entitlement or arrogance
  • Self-reliance; prefers to work alone than with others
  • Views relationships as threatening, or not worth the effort
  • May be a workaholic, as a way of avoiding relationships
  • Feelings of being unique
  • Grandiose or unrealistic fantasies
• Anxious/Ambivalent
  • Compulsive caregiving
  • Feels underappreciated
  • Many short-term relationships
  • Idealizes others
  • Possessive; makes unrealistic demands of partners in relationships
  • Preoccupied with relationships, and easily makes declarations of affection
  • Obtains feelings of security through relationships
  • Sees relationships as imbalanced
  • Oversensitive to rejection, easily gives in to jealousy
  • Sees others as being difficult to understand
  • Unable to understand the concept of altruism
    Extreme emotions
• May Also Include
  • Prone to depression
  • Socially inappropriate behavior
  • Impulsive
  • Manipulative
  • Risk-taking
  • Self-mutilating behavior
  • Often do not remember much of childhood experiences
  • Darkness behind the eyes when angered
  • At risk of abusing their own children
  • Children with RAD may become adults diagnosed with sociopathic, narcissistic, antisocial, or borderline disorder

You'll notice, the similarities are RIDICULOUS.  How can you really differentiate between those things in CHILDREN?  Is it any surprise that RAD kids go on to become BPD Adults??  But, if they are so close, what does it matter if the actual disorder is diagnosed?  It matters because of the TREATMENT.  Borderline is chronic, pervasive, and rooted in chemistry and ACTUAL disordered personality.  RAD is CURABLE.  This is what RAD is rooted in:

• In utero maternal drug or alcohol abuse
• Birth trauma
• Unwanted pregnancy
• Physical, emotional, or sexual abuse during the first 3 years of life
• Physical or emotional neglect
• Separation from birth mother early in life
• Chaotic family situation
• Harsh and inconsistent parenting
• Overindulgent parenting
• Multiple changes in living location
• Inadequate day care; multiple care givers
• Frequent moves or placements in the foster care system; failed adoptions
• Traumatic experiences
• Undiagnosed painful illness; unresolved, ongoing pain
• Maternal alcohol or drug use
• Maternal depression
• A lack of attunement between the mother and child
• Young or inexperienced mother with poor parenting skills

ACCURATE DIAGNOSIS = ACCURATE TREATMENT.  That's it.  If you ignore the RAD, OF COURSE it won't go away.  Of course it goes hand-in-hand with other psych disorders.  Don't treat it and it is BOUND to fester, get worse, and/or manifest as BPD or Bipolar or other.

Adoptees are lucky, in a sense- the root of the disease is CLEAR.  It is treatable, hopefully curable, if focused on and addressed properly.  We are unlucky, obviously, since no one is willingly to admit adoption could be the root of a true psychiatric problem.

Psychiatry is about probing the depths of the mind, getting to the ROOT of problems to solve them.  Drugs are OK.  ECT does it's thing.  Alternative therapies are chill.  It's all well and good but it's ALL TEMPORARY - all of it, always, if you DON'T DEAL WITH THE TRUE UNDERLYING ISSUE.  Excuse the all caps, I can't stress this enough.  So, if you have the WRONG DIAGNOSIS, you are treating and addressing the WRONG ISSUES.

Thing is, I'm not about the labels.  Personally, I think they are for cans.  However, with that said:

WRONG DIAGNOSIS = WRONG TREATMENT

Wrong treatment = patient frustration, feelings of failure, feelings of hopelessness, feelings of not being understood, feelings of it being impossible to ever feel better.  Does that sound like effective treatment to anyone?  Refusing to acknowledge adoption as an underlying problem resulting in a psychiatric condition WILL result in the WRONG diagnosis and therefore, the WRONG TREATMENT.

We cannot help these kids our ourselves if we don't start acknowledging the trauma adoption causes the KIDS.  FOR LIFE.  Let them talk.  Let them be themselves and let them ACKNOWLEDGE what happened to them.

It's just as important as Open Records.

I think first and foremost, everyone deserves to know where they came from and have the opportunity to know their family and have their questions answered.  Sometimes that isn't possible.  It's unfortunate but true.  Sometimes it just isn't possible.  DON'T punish those adoptees further by denying them help and acceptance.

Don't deny these kids, who become adults, their mommies, their identity, their heritage, and then add insult to injury by denying them the acknowledgment of what  has happened to them.

RAD is REAL.

Adoption related psychiatric disorders are REAL and they HURT.

OPEN RECORDS, OPEN MINDS.  Please.

You don't believe I'm from Mars either!

          "Dennis, can I just say one last thing about Mars?  This may be strange coming from a science fiction writer, but right now, you and me here, put together entirely from atoms that have been part of millions of other organisms before they became us, are sitting on this round rock with a core of liquid iron, held down by this force, that so troubles, that you call gravity, all the while spinning around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour and whizzing through the Milky Way at six hundred thousand miles an hour, in a universe that very well may be chasing its own tail at the speed of light. And amidst all this frantic activity, fully cognizant of our own eminent demise (which is a very pretty way of saying we all know we're gonna die), we reach out to one another.  Sometimes for the sake of vanity, sometimes for reasons you're not old enough to understand yet.  But a lot of the time we just reach out and expect nothing in return. Isn't that strange? Isn't that weird? Isn't that weird enough? What the heck do you need to be from Mars for?"

    If you are depressed by Juno and August Rush and want to see a quality adoption movie about adopting a child IN NEED for the RIGHT reasons and sticking with it even though it is HARD (for everyone), try "Martian Child."  I loved it.  I'm sure it was a little cliche, but in a good way.

    **SPOILER BREAK**

    I especially adored the part where Dennis the "Martian Child" is upset because he broke John Cusack's character, David's camera and is afraid David will send him back or leave him because he's mad.  And David says, "Do you think I care about that stuff?? It's just stuff.  ...Nothing you can do will ever change the way I feel about you."  And then he breaks some things, and then they break dishes together, to prove to Dennis that it is "just stuff."  Dennis breaks a bunch of dishes and then says, "That feels so good."

    And, "He only coached me on one thing... and that's that you should NEVER EVER ever ever ever ever ever ever ever EVER give up.  Winston Churchill said that... I think."

To Serve and Protect?

Section from the American Chronicle article:

What Are We Doing To Our Children?

Victoria  Hardy

March 10, 2008

"In 1997, the Clinton administration passed the Adoption and Safe Families Act and it was marketed as a feel good solution to limit the time children spent in foster care. (Department of Health and Human Services) Previous to this legislation the focus was on "reasonable attempts" to unite children with their biological families, but with the introduction of ASFA, we in America, understood that the priority had changed to promoting the welfare of the children. What most didn't understand was that with the new legislation, states would receive big bonuses for adopting out children. And parents would be given only 15 months, before their children are adopted out to strangers, to prove to the court (not a jury, but a judge) that they deserve to raise their own kids.

In the new and improved system of protecting our children, profits increased dramatically and lots of folks began making money. The amount of money at the original signing of this law was $20 million in bonuses to the state for adoption of foster-care children, $5 million for health care of adopted kids with special needs, $11 million in subsidies for special-needs children and the family-preservation program was reauthorized with an additional $65 million and added adoption services to its mandate. (About)

So once "protective" services are involved the money making clock starts ticking and then the priority is not in uniting families, there is no bonus for that, but in making sure those children get through the system quickly and get placed into new families. Now if these children all came from terribly abusive families, I would agree that the system works, but it doesn´t take long on the Internet to find out how families and children are suffering over this law. We must remember this is a business and businesses don´t make money without a product and in this case, the product is children." (Massachusetts News)

Read more of this great article online here. The follow section addresses how many charges of "abuse" are actually cases of POVERTY.  So why aren't we helping these families instead of ripping them apart??

She ends with:

"Children are not products and should not be bought, sold and managed like inanimate objects. And really, when we think about the numbers and consider the abuses, what are we doing to the next generations? How are these kids supposed to move into the world and become high achievers? How will these children adjust to the adult world without a cloud of victim hood perpetually following them? Thankfully, some will survive and shine in life, but that is only due to the amazing power of the human spirit. Over and over through researching this subject I saw children left in abusive parental homes while under state protection and others taken from families and moved into abusive government subsidized homes, so I´m asking, what are we doing to our children?"

Let's See How Far We've Come.

Blog meme based on an exercise developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. The exercise developers hold the copyright and ask that if you participate in this blog game, you acknowledge them.

*I should note that just for this, "relative" or any reference to such, refers to my a-family.

From: What Privileges Do You Have?
-based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.
(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)

Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.

1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 assuming that sport counts.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 assuming that sport counts.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp.
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home. 
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

_________________

    So... in case you didn't notice, they are ALL bolded except for the TV-in-room (i begged for one but my dad was steadfastly against it) and that thing about owning an IRA.

    That makes me feel kind of disgusting.  And although I now know what it's like to work my ass off and still not have enough money for both heat & groceries, I know I can't even...  it makes me sick.  I didn't want this.  I said many times that I would have rather been poor and happy than rich and with my aparents.  But maybe that was easy for me to say because all I knew was "have", never "have not."

    I like free stuff (who doesn't), but I hate getting presents.  I hate when people buy me things.  Boys, parents, you name it.  HATE IT.  DON'T WANT TO BE BOUGHT.  Been there, done that, have an amended birth certificate in the way of a receipt.   I had trouble when my real mom genuinely wanted to give me a present - these amazing earrings that I totally adore and never take off.  Despite that, I was STILL awkward and like ehhh I dunno.  (I let it go in the end, thanks to a text from Suz along the lines of "Let her!  Mommies like to buy things for their little girls, especially when they only parent boys!")  But I DON'T.WANT.TO.BE.BOUGHT.  Word.

    Anyways.  Yes, my college was paid for by my a-parents.  I'm getting out into the real world scott-free of debt in about two months.  There were many times during school when my a-dad was being an extreme jerk, and emotionally abusive and I was like Fuck this, I'm out.  I'll make it on my own as a waitress/trashwomen/forest ranger/etc.  Fuck them, I don't want to owe them gratitude or anything, I don't want to be TIED to them through all this money.

    Approximately $160,000 and some change later, I'm glad that I didn't, but maybe not for the reason you'd think.  No, I didn't come around and realize they "only want what's best for me" and they truly "only have my best interest in mind", no.  I still think my a-dad is manipulative and I wish there was another way for me to get free money, but unfortunately, that's reality.  BUT.  I AM graduating in two months, and I will be an RN.  I am thisclose to a DREAM job offer from an AMAZING trauma center where my best friend works. (I'm basically in the job search version of escrow :-P)  I'm going to get to do what I love with  a great friend.  I will enter the real world debt-free.  Even if my a-dad and I have a huge falling out (again), he will have NO POWER, NO INFLUENCE over me.  He can't touch me, if I don't want him to, in two months.  How much better does it get than that?

    Well.  It does.  I can do something that I wish someone would have been able to do for me.  I can help my sister.  (Background, in Massachusetts if you are adopted you can go to any state school for free, you just have to pay room and board).  My sister applied to colleges this year.  She got in a LOT of great places, including UMASS Amherst in MA, a school she likes and feels she would be happy at.  And she can go for free, just pay room and board.

    My dad is awful to my sister.  She rebels the way she does because he is legit an asshole to her all the time.  At least when I lived there, he took turns being an asshole to each of us (and to my mom), but now she gets it all since I'm never around.  It's escalated over the past year, to the point where she's nearly moved out several times.

    So, I don't want her to feel trapped, like she doesn't have a choice in this.  I don't want her to feel stuck, like my mom.  Yes, a paid-for college education is a gift.  It is a tremendous gift.  But I want her to feel like she has options of how to go to college without being tied and in debt to someone who treats you like shit.  And thanks to MY four years of putting up with him, I can.  I did the work, and now I have a degree where I make enough money to be able to help.  We can get loans that I can help with later, and for now, If she's willing to get a job and work too, I'm MORE THAN willing, more than happy to help her pay for room, board, and all the other extra fees college throws at you, in order for her to make a clean break from them. It's within reach, and I'm so proud and so happy to be able to offer that.

    It has been a long 4 years.  Hell, it has been a long almost-22 years.  But THIS year, I truly grew.  Within the last year, I came out from under my a-dad's shadow and influence.  I stopped taking the meds he was forcing down my throat.  I overcame being raped - WITHOUT meds.  I changed doctors to someone who respects me and listens to me.  I was pregnant, lost the baby, and later lost the guy I loved and I am STILL STANDING.  I thrived, I lost weight, I began to feel ok about feeling good about myself, despite his threats and accusations and condescending warnings that I would "fail."  Well, I'm succeeding, Dad.  I'm graduating and I'm going to have a great job that I love and am good at.  I made some amazing friends who have become family.  I found, met, and began to develop a relationship with my real mommy, who loves and wants me, even though you didn't want me to, Dad.  All in the past year.  I am succeeding, I am going to survive, and I am going to be GREAT.

    So, thanks a-dad.  Thanks for the gift of money and privilege.   Ultimately, it was a gift that I suppose I don't regret because of what it ended up leading to:  It became the gift of freedom from you, for both me and my sister, if she wants it.  Maybe when we are truly free we can work on having some sort of relationship that is based on respect and equality.  Maybe.  But if not, that's ok.  I am free.  I guess sometimes in the end, money can buy happiness.  It pains me to admit it, but indirectly, it bought mine.

   

I Never Wanted a Jungle Gym.

    I was driving with my real mom, B, having just finished a fun out-to-dinner-night, down by where she lives.  Talking about the circumstances around her pregnancy with me and the following adoption.  One of our many "why did you give me away" conversations. I'm not being mean or difficult, I genuinely want to know.  This one was provoked by a comment she made, regarding her son. 

    "____ saved me.  I truly believe that.  I changed when he was born.  He made me a better person."  Well.. I'm glad.  But... why couldn't it have been me?   I could have saved you.  I could have changed you.  You look like me.  You act like me.  We would have been good together.  It's so painfully obvious.  She knows.  People comment when we are together in public.  Several people always say that we look like we are having fun, or something along those lines.  One time I think she was smoking or something, and we were standing outside the mall, laughing.  Some random lady walked by and was like, "Are you girls having a party out here, or what??"  Always smiling.  Always arm in arm.  B, as usual, tells everyone in sight that "She's my daughter! Can you tell?", this time to the jewelry store clerk (where i allow myself to be bought, just a little bit, but only because she insists she's making up for 21 birthdays).  The clerk responds, smiling, "I thought so... mother-daughter, or sisters, maybe" (lucky you, B). 

    I wish it was me.  I wish it was me that changed you.

    "I know it was awful," I started, speaking in regards to her circumstances at the time of my birth. "I know you were homeless, and you had nothing and you weren't ready.  I know it was awful.  But..." I paused, This is killing me.  My vision blurs and I almost swerve off the road.  I don't think she notices.  She is staring out the window.  "But... It could have been awful with me."

    Why didn't you make it awful with me?

Do I stay or do I go?

I'm on quite the adoption-parallels-in-movies kick right now.  So, in that light:
*Spoilers* ahead for the end of the movie gone baby gone. (<33)

The main character, Patrick, a private detective, spends the movie searching for this little girl who was kidnapped from her mother only to find out it was the Boston Police Captain who took her, partially in order to give her a better life, partially to replace his own daughter, who was kidnapped and murdered years ago.

Patrick: I'm calling state police in five minutes. They'll be here in ten.
Captain Doyle: Thought you would've done that by now. You know why you haven't? Because you think this might be an irreparable mistake. Because deep inside you, you know it doesn't matter what the rules say. When the lights go out, and you ask yourself "is she better off here or better off there", you know the answer. And you always will. You... you could do a right thing here. A good thing. Men live their whole lives without getting this chance. You walk away from it, you may not regret it when you get home. You may not regret it for a year, but when you get to where I am, I promise you, you will. I'll be dead, you'll be old. But she... she'll be dragging around a couple of tattered, damaged children of her own, and you'll be the one who has to tell them you're sorry.
Patrick: You know what? Maybe that'll happen. And if it does, I'll tell them I'm sorry and I'll live with it. But what's never gonna happen and what I'm not gonna do is have to apologize to a grown woman who comes to me and says: "I was kidnapped when I was a little girl, and my aunt hired you to find me. And you did, you found me with some strange family. But you broke your promise and you left me there. Why? Why didn't you bring me home? Because all the snacks and the outfits and the family trips don't matter. They stole me. It wasn't my family and you knew about it and you knew better and you did nothing". And maybe that grown woman will forgive me, but I'll never forgive myself.
Captain Doyle: I did what I did for the sake of the child. All right. For me, too. But now, I'm asking you for the sake of the child. I'm begging you. You think about it.

Sound familiar to anyone?