Indian Late Discovery Adoptee

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...

I recently shared my story on the @officialpeopleofindia  page ( click here for the link ). It went pretty much how I thought it would. I knew by sharing my story with them, it was going to reach out to a much larger audience. It was nerve-racking and anxiety-inducing. But I knew I needed it to be done. Let people see the other side of a system they believe is best for abandoned and unwanted children. The comments to my story included those confused and angered by me saying I was brought up with love and abuse. Like it's impossible to experience both. To them, I can explain my trauma to you, I cannot understand it for you. As I read through more, there was empathy and backlash. Backlash because I was shedding adoption and my adoptive parents in a negative light. And this is why it was important for me to share. Because there are a countless number of adoptees afraid of this backlash. Afraid of what society will tell them how to feel. That we need to suppress all the bad and just be...

My heart is heavy today. Here are some thoughts: Everyone affected by adoption is holding trauma. And anger. How you process the damage that was done to you is entirely your business. What you did to survive what you lived through should not be judged by others. How I survived is simply that. It's how I survived. Not all of us handle trauma/grief the same way. At the same time, it has taken me a while to understand that how I heal also affects those around me. There's that quote, "If you never heal from what hurt you, you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you." And I'm just trying to heal from what I survived through. I for one am angry about my experience. About my adoption experience. About my late discovery experience. It was, and is, filled with pain. I will do what I need to do to survive. And to heal. Within reason. Because I don't want to bleed on anyone else along the way. How I choose to deal with those who "cut me" is 100% up to me. I will ...

𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 𝘯. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩—𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘺, 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘵𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵, 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. Source: Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows Two years ago on this day, June 8th, I received the results of a DNA test that would confirm a doubt I always had, just never fully confronted. As I've written before, on that day, two of my families died. The one that raised me turned out to be a sham, and the one that did not remains an enigma. A few days ago, I came across this word, monachopsis. It is ...

This year has been a difficult Mother's Day. This year I was able to obtain my Indian adoption paperwork from the Texas court. The ones that my adoptive parents never kept. This is the year I learn more about who the woman who gave birth to me than I've ever known. Within the paperwork was an Affidavit from the Indian government that stated I was abandoned. This is what it said: There is a male minor child 'Anoop' (corrected with pen to Anup) born on [date of birth] to an unmarried girl and hence he was abandoned by his mother, who gave a necessary written declaration to the Institution and, therefore, the Institution has automatically become the legal guardian of the said male minor child Anoop (corrected with pen to Anup) and has a right to give the said child Anoop in adoption. My entire life determined by my mother's marital status. My mind constantly focuses on her description. An "unmarried girl." A "girl." How old she was that it states sh...

I am not for adoption. I am not against adoption. I am anti-bullshit. I was on Twitter the other day, and I came across a concept that blew my mind. I never thought it could actually be a thing. Ever since I learned about my adoption, the one thing I've always abhorred about it is the fact that I lost everything regarding my first identity. And I lost it all legally. I lost my name, ancestry, heritage, history, and culture. I lost everything I already had when I entered this world. And it was replaced with that of the adopters. So much so in my case, that my adopters never even told me who I really was, or where I came from. This concept of adoption, where individuals lose their first identity is actually called plenary adoption. It erases everything, and it is legal. Adopters not only get parental rights over the adoptee, but also get to pass their identities onto them. In other words, plenary adoption terminates the relationship between birth parent and child. And sadly, many ado...

This pandemic has taken a heavy toll. It hurts. Having just received my adoption paperwork and finally knowing which institution I was adopted from in India, it feels like I'm step closer to finding some roots. However, it hurts knowing that people are dying in India because of Covid. And that the Indian government is failing it's people. My people. Last week I read a post on Reddit about someone losing their uncle in India. They expressed anger towards the handling of this virus in India. And it angered me the more I thought about it and how it affects me. I tweeted the following: Just thinking via tweet. My biological kin are in India. I don't know who they are. Cuz, adoption. Just read about someone losing an uncle from covid in India. Even if it wasn't for covid, fuck if I know how many of my kin are already dead. #fuckadoption — Kris-404:RootsNotFound (@adoptedindian) April 17, 2021 Today I came across the following: Devastating images of patients dying for lack...

On Monday, April 19th, 2021, I filed a motion to order and petition the Texas court to unseal my adoption paperwork. This is something I had been working on, but I just never knew the best way to go about it. Biggest concern being that it might be rejected. I filed it electronically on their website, and after multiple calls with the county clerk for assistance and clarification, I was able to submit my order and petition. Once that was done, I prepared myself for the worse, and potentially a long wait. Yesterday, April 20th, 2021, at 12:09 pm, my phone rings. I recognize the number coming in from Texas. To my suprise, it was the county clerk, and he let me know that the Judge signed the order to unseal it. Holy shit! First off, it was less than 24 hours. Second, I got it! I asked him what was next. How do I get the paperwork, and can it be emailed? He transferred me to their records department to figure out the details, and if I had to pay any fees. I spoke with a lady in the records ...

They did the best they could . This is a statement that people usually tell me after sharing a bit of my story. For the most part, it is with best intentions. But I have issues with that statement, and it makes me rage internally everytime I hear it. That statement sounds like an excuse for their behavior. Their choices, and their decisions. Also, how is it that the best anybody can do has to include lying, deception, and abuse? "One doesn't have to operate with great malice to do great harm. The absence of empathy and understanding are sufficient." - Charles M. Blow, journalist I don't believe my adopters had any malicious intentions at first when they decided not to tell me I was adopted. I've mentioned before that they were initially denied adoption for telling social workers that they wouldn't tell us we were adopted. That decision itself shows me that they did what they wanted to do. even after being told and taught what was best. The fact is, they did th...

I am so frustrated. All I have in regards to my adoption is my Decree of Adoption. With that, I know where my adoption was finalized, and my name. A name that most likely came from the an orphanage or the hospital. As and international Adoptee from India, I don't really know if I have an original birth certificate. I do know there's a Certificate of Abandonment and Relinquishment. My, what fantastic and magnificent words to use for a person. I am certified abandoned. Certified relinquished. At any rate, before trying to appeal to the courts in Texas for whatever paperwork they have, I decided to try immigration first. The first time I did it, I used the USCIS website and via the Freedom of Information Act, I requested my "A" file. Otherwise known as Alien File. I already don't feel like I belong anywhere, and aside from being abandoned and relinquished by my country of origin, I'm also an alien to the country I was adopted into. When I finally got a reply, the...

My birthday was last week. It's still a little difficult to feign happiness on that day. And I still have it hidden on most social media sites that I use in order to just avoid it. It was only the second birthday with the knowledge that I am adopted. I can't stop from thinking that this would have been the 36th one that my birth mother has gone through with the knowledge of being separated from me. This past year, it feels like I keep fluctuating between just feelings of frustration, and straight up anger. So, I started to write my thoughts that night, and here's something I wrote and shared on Instagram : I got a papercut sometime ago. And it was annoying. Although I was hurt , I wasn't hurt by it. It just happened, and the pain was sharp. Every now and then I would accidently aggravate it and the pain would come back. I started to think about hurt vs pain. Hurt is an unpleasant sensation. To me it has more of an emotional and psychological connotation. Pain is just an...

I write a lot. Not all of it gets put out there for everyone to read, but occasionally I'll write a comment and someone will reply saying they would love to hear more about my take on it. One such comment was regarding the Fog. When I first started to read about adoption and figure out what I was experiencing, I learned of the phrase “Coming out of the fog”. It is a metaphor used to describe coming to terms with feelings and realizations in regards to adoption. Another adoptee I follow on Instagram posted a graphic that read, “For many, “the fog” is a survival tool.” And I commented on it, saying, “Coming in from my LDA POV. I feel like there's more than just one "fog". Couldn't tell you how many, or what they'd be called, it just feels like in a way, each trauma has its own "fog" that I'm dealing with.” For quite some time now I have been trying to write about the Fog. I just didn’t know how or where to start. Seeing that post, and commenting on...

I recently came across a Facebook post in one of the adoptee support groups I'm that read "I'm reminded that I'm Adopted everyday that ends in Y". I can't remember the exact comment below, but someone had commented saying why is that so bad, and that they felt there was honor in adoption. There seems to be a lot of this going on in a few of these supports groups that I am in. Someone shares something bad or negative, and an adoptee with a good experience counters and makes a generalized statement telling everyone that adoption is a good thing because it was good for them. When I write my story, my experience, and my thoughts, I do my best to only write mine. I'm the expert in my story. And that's it. I'm doing my best to learn everyday to have better insight, and perspective.  I commented on the post as well, and here is what I did write: I acknowledge that not everyone has had a bad experience. But to use that to tell me that adoption is a good th...

I am tired of being angry. In a recent tweet, I shared the following: But I guess it's fair to say that there are moments that I am still angry. I don't think it helps that this is my birthday month. To me, it feels like the month that nobody cared that I came into this world. There were no celebrations that I'm aware of. It's the month that I was separated from my mother, and I don't have the faintest idea why. It's the month that someone else took me and lied to me from that moment onward about who I really am. Today, there are people in my life today that care about it. But the fact remains, on the actual day of my birth, I have no idea if anybody did. This will be the second birthday I live through with the knowledge that I am adopted. It will be the second birthday that I actually have a conscious thought about my mother and father. I didn't choose to be adopted. I didn't even choose to be born. And I most definitely didn't choose to forget my m...

One year ago I wrote and sent my adopters a letter. I have shared this letter in a post titled " The Letter ". It has been a year. I still have not received any official word that either adopter has read this letter. It is possible that they have read it, but refuse to acknowledge or say anything about it. I just don't know. Back in June of 2020, my adoptive mother told me she hasn't read it via text, and that she'd rather we meet face to face and she would read it then. She said she is responsible for the turmoil in my life, and she alone. She even wrote that a filial relationship shouldn't be dependant on the contents of a letter. Which is interesting considering she thought she could have one based on a lie. Based on never telling me where I truly come from. A relationship entirely based on deceit. Sometime in August of 2020, I reached out to the adoptive father, I asked if I could call him. I wanted to talk about adoption paperwork. He replied requesting t...

Recently two Adoptees that I follow on Instagram shared posts on what it means to not be adopted. It inspired to me write a new blog post. Wendy ( @wendyfabulous on Instagram) posted an image  with the following words: "Please describe to me what it feels like to be first choice." In her description, she mentions that it's mainly directed towards non adopted individuals. But I still felt it. I grew up believing that I was a "first choice". That I was "kept". It's a very strange place to be when I think of being a late discovery Adoptee. I feel stuck in the middle. And even though I am adopted, I am an Adoptee, because a majority of my life I thought I wasn't, sometimes I feel like I don't belong in that conversation space. And yet, I do belong. I think back to a thought I once had - As a late discovery Adoptee, I feel like I can relate and can't relate to Adoptees all at once. From my upbringing, I can certainly tell you what it’s like...