Some days are just hard

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"Adoptees lose so much in the name of adoption - we are born into the expectation of sacrificing who we are and where we come from in order to fit in." - Ferera Swan

"Every adopted person is a story. Ignore the story, and you ignore the person. Tell your story. Research the details. Be relentless. Beginnings matter - without them none of us would exist." - Anne Heffron

As long as I can remember, looking in the mirror has often been hard. Not to say that it caused me a great deal of pain, but every now and then, it was just confussing.

I would study the details of my face and wonder who I resembled. I never saw my "mother" in me, and I could never quite see my "father". Occasionally a friend or someone I meet would see a family picture I'd share and they mention that I look somewhat like my "father". But I couldn't quite see it.

Now that I know I'm adopted, I look at the mirror, and I don't know who is looking back at me. I still look at my reflection with the same questions though. Where do my features come from? Who do I most resemble most? Where does my widow's peak come from? What about this nose? 

So many questions. And no answers.

My beginning is a mystery. I don't know how I came to be in the world. The chapter 1 of my life was ripped out of my book, and it was never given to me. It was replaced with a fictional story in order for me to fit in with the wants and desires of my adoptive parents. 

I was adopted in an era where families were told to tell their children they are adopted. I will never understand why mine did the opposite. And in time I will just have to accept that I will never understand it. Not everything can be explained.

It is what it is.
I may be happy about my present, but I am still angry and grieving my past.

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