Back in March, I wrote about anger for Lynelle to share on her website . Here’s that post: In 2019 at the age of 34, I learned that I was adopted. Since then, I have become insanely familiar with the grief cycle. In a non-linear fashion, I have been relentlessly experiencing all the emotions associated with grief. Of all the emotions, anger, however, has become the one constant emotion when I think about adoption. In the case of my experience, as a late discovery adoptee, I am angry for being lied to for 34 years. I feel deceived. Conned. Duped. Whatever words I can think of to describe it, ultimately for 34 years I was manipulated into believing I was someone that I’m not. Manipulated into believing strangers were my biological and genetic kin. The identity I was given never seemed to fit with the person I knew myself to be, and I was gaslit into feeling like the crazy one for my thoughts.  The thing about anger though, is that it is perceived as a negative emotion. All my life growin

To Tell or Not To Tell

 Every now and then I get asked the question. “Hey Kris, I know someone that’s adopted, but they don’t know it. Should I tell them?” This is a question that I have given a lot of thought to over the last few years. And what I’ve realized is that it’s not a matter of IF you should tell them, it’s WHEN and HOW. I firmly believe that everyone deserves to know their truth. It is, without a doubt, abusive when a “parent” lies to their ward leading them to believe that they are their biological parents. So what then? Honestly, you really just have two choices. You either don’t tell them and let things run their course, or you do tell them. Just know that sooner or later, somehow or the other, they will find out. There is no good way to go about it. Whether or not you tell them the truth, there is absolutely no way in which this experience won’t be traumatic. This is an upending, identity-shattering mindfuck. When I think about my experience as an LDA, it infuriates me at times to think about

Performance Review

 I read this today on Reddit. "It's your parent's job to raise you. Your adult relationship with them is their performance review." * Father's day is coming up (this Sunday). I've been thinking a lot about it. Not just from the context of being a father, but also as a person who doesn't know their father. I was raised by strangers. By people who made the conscious decision to lie to the children in their care. By definition, they were people who parented. As a late discovery adoptee, it's difficult to see them as parents. The lying and deception make it feel that way. Whatever the case, my adopters raised me. And while that technically makes them parents, they had a job to do, and they did not do it well. My adoptive father never wanted children for starters. The day he told us this, is a memory that lives clearly in my mind. It was about 14 years ago. I was 23. Sitting at the dinner table in a Texas apartment that we once lived in. Just knowing that e

India's Social Orphans

I came across the above Indian based podcast called  The Filter Koffee Podcast  hosted by Karthik Nagarajan. He sits with a guest and as he describes it, has a conversation. “The kind that leaves you richer. The kind that only coffee can bring out.” In this particular episode released in January of 2022, he sat down with Poulomi Pavini Shukla, a supreme court lawyer, and spoke about orphans in India. This particular episode was titled “Why India's orphans are twice abandoned?” Without getting into too many details of the podcast, here are a few key topics they went over: The different schemes that have been put in place for children in need of care. (Government Schemes in India are launched by the government to address the social and economic welfare of its citizens) The money/budget put towards orphans. Which equates to less than 1 rupee per day per child. The estimated number of orphans in India as reported by UNICEF. How orphanages are run and how many should be set up in each d


37 years ago I met my mother for the first and last time. I don't recall this. I can't recall this. But I know my body remembers it the trauma of being separated from the woman that gave birth to me. 37 years ago, the last time I saw my mother and I don't know if I even met my father.  I doubt it. 37 years. Gone  without knowing my kin. Will I know them again? Can I? The first 34 of those years, strange people bought me and lied to me said they were my blood. 34 years, two strangers gaslit me. Being a Late Discovery Adoptee is the perfect example where someone experiences a form of psychological abuse where a person or group makes them question their sanity, perception of reality, or memories. — Kris-404:RootsNotFound (@adoptedindian) November 22, 2021 They were strangers to the boy that was separated from his mother. They were strangers to the boy who grew up wondering why he never fit. They were strangers to the boy that questioned why he could never bond with his so-cal


Definition of estranged: having lost former closeness and affection: in a state of alienation from a previous close or familial relationship Definition of estrangement: a feeling that you do not understand someone or something, or do not have any connection with him, her, or it It has been 2 years since I've spoken to my adopters. I've been thinking a lot about estrangement during that time, and what it looks like to me. By definition, estranged means to have lost former closeness and affection. Estrangement is a feeling that you don't understand someone or something, or do not have any connection with them, or it. I feel like to be estranged is to have lost that bond on an emotional level. Estrangement encapsulates not just that loss of closeness, but the need/desire to alienate for the sake of oneself. To me, I was estranged the moment I realized there was no connection. That the abuse I experienced as a child had an impact on me that I had no explanation for. I just, in


What's it like to have childhood memories? Memories that aren't blemished by lies and deception? Memories that don't feel like a manipulation? The holidays are really hard this year. We all have memories. Good ones. Bad ones. The ones we cherish and the ones we wish we could forget. Memories are brought up either by reminiscing the good times or triggered by an event. Others brought about at random via sense. Sensory memories. A smell, a taste, anything that hits the senses just right bringing back the past to the present. What happens when all your past memories are stained? Blemished? Not just because of wrongdoing, or abuse, but because of a lie? Because of a deception that affects your identity?  I was lied to about who and what I am. And for 34 years, I was raised to live a lie about my very being. 34 years of lies from the people that raised me. And not just them, but everyone else that knew the truth, but kept silent. As much as I knew something was strange and didn&