Faulty Thinking

Reading people is a survival skill that I started to develop when I was a few years old. It is common among older child adoptees. I can remember as a six year old, trying to figure out the mood of my aunt. Was she drunk or angry? Was it safe to be near her?

A few years after I became a Barnett, I would listen for the moves of my dad as he walked through the door, as his boots hit the linoleum. Was he walking fast or at his regular pace? Was he taking off his belt before he hit the kitchen; or did he go back into his room?

As a student, I would try to figure out the mood of the teacher or even more importantly, the coach. What kind of class or practice was it going to be?

After being married for awhile, I started applying this skill to Phyllis. By the tone of her voice, I can usually determine her emotions, especially when she is irritated with me.

This is not the first time I have thought about this, however, something happened yesterday that made me realize that I often take this skill or obsession too far.

Yesterday, I wore a bee costume to work. A Disneyland type of costume (yes, it was burning hot). The purpose of this was to promote a book fair at two schools. The first school was a pre-school through 8th grade. The second school was a pre-school.

The bee suit was very friendly, yet a few of the kids were horrified when they saw a giant bee in their school. Most of the kids came up and hugged me, and tugged on my stinger. It was a warm and loving experience. Most adults were very receptive and kind. However, a few had that look of disgust. When I received that "look" I felt rejected. I immediately found someone else that had a kind smile and laugh at my bee antics. When I received that loving, kind, warm look, I felt accepted.

Yesterday evening it dawned on me how nonsensical it was for me to put meaning to disgusting looks. For crying out loud, I WAS IN A BEE COSTUME. They could see me. Also, it is not my problem or responsibility how someone is feeling. I can not control their attitude, I can only control my own.

Reading people has helped me many times, but mind reading is a problem. I am not part of the psychic network. I need to stop thinking about what I think other people are thinking.

What was once a survival skilled, has turned into a rejection sensor. I have been trying to control things I have no control over -- whether or not a person likes me.

Rejection

Rejection is a common issue among older child adoptees. Personally, anything that resembles rejection makes my skin crawl. I can remember getting my brother to ask my a-parents if we could do something, because I hated hearing the word no. When I was in college, I would only go out with a girl a few times because I feared that she was going to reject me. It was better for me to "reject" her before she was the one to say no. How are you doing with rejection? Sherrie Eldridge has a great article concerning this topic. Read it and then let me know what you think.

I am a 22-year-old adoptee in the midst of therapy for adoption issues. My therapist said that many adoptees struggle with feelings of rejection. Why is this?

Did You Love Her?

This dialogue was inspired by a friend who was also an older child adoptee.

She didn't love me.

"How do you know?"

If she loved me, she would have taken care of herself and not abandoned me.

"Did you love her?"

I don't know. After she gave us away, I don't remember having feelings toward her.

"You weren't angry towards her for leaving you?"

No, she couldn't take care of herself, much less take care of us?

"What happened to her?"

I don't know. She probably died. She was sick.

"Because she was sick, you think she died?"

If she wasn't sick, I can't imagine why she wouldn't have rescued us from Aunt Betty.

"Did she love you?"

I never thought about that.

"Imagine for a moment that she really loved you. How would that make you feel?"

Sad.

"Why would it make you sad?"

Because if she loved me, then I be sad that I never saw her again after she abandoned us.

"Are there other reasons?"

It also makes my early childhood more real. I like to keep everything in compartments. Also, she wasn't really my mother. My adoptive mother was my mother.

"What would happen if you took your thoughts out of these compartments?"

It would probably cause me to think differently about some things.

"Why don't you give it a try and see what happens? Identify these compartments and what you have kept in each one. Write it out, then spend some time reflecting on it. Then if you choose, let me know some of your thoughts."

Mother-Child Reunion

Most of my life, I convinced myself that I didn't like my birth mother. She abandoned us. After my father died, when we were in foster care, at the time we needed her the most, she was sleeping around and got pregnant. In my mind, she was dead. This also made it easier for me to accept my adopted mom as my mom. The thought of finding a birth mother, or even the search, I felt would have also hurt my mom. However, there has always been this small voice that has spoken at different and various times in my life and asked, "I wonder if she is still alive." The past few years it has grown stronger.

To find my birth mother would cost thousands of dollars. And even then, it is likely that there would be no trace. I thought it would make a good Oprah or Dr. Phil show. They would have the resources to find out if she was dead or alive.

Previously, I wrote about getting a name of someone that might be her. Oddly enough, I found the house in Abiliene, Texas. I decided to go across the street to get a description of the women who lived there. Obviously it wasn't her, because the resident of this home was too tall to have been my mother. The anticipation during this process was heavy. A very odd experience that thousands of adoptees have felt when they were close to the trail of a birth mother.

It is probably apparent why I have been more interested the last few years. If she were alive, she would be in her mid-seventies, so time becomes much more of a factor. I have often wondered if I had had the desire to find her twenty-five years ago, that I would have found her. Yet, I can also remember not wanting to do anything that I felt would hurt my mom.

So, I will probably never find out what happened to Beverly Jane. Did she find another man, have more children? Did she commit suicide? Maybe she became a nun and lives in a convent somewhere in Mexico? She always loved the beach, perhaps she married a fisherman and lives in a shack on the Gulf Coast? Or maybe she married an oil tycoon, and has lived her live in opulence? Regardless, I have often wondered was a mother-child reunion "only a motion away?"

Mother And Child Reunion
Paul Simon

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.

I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.

I just can t believe it's so
Though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away