Indian Late Discovery Adoptee

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...

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...