How heartbreaking. I can say if it wasn’t for my siblings loving me I would have grown up so much worse. Even now I still have difficulty with social situations and trusting others. There’s this wariness that never ebbs completely. There’s this expectation that everyone will let me down eventually because no one is really that kind, no one is really that good. There are things I will never understand about the ways people interact, things that were denied me that I’ll never get back. My partner always wanted to try to fill that hole but that is impossible. I only know that something vital is missing that can never be restored. I cannot write about normal people because I do not understand normal. I cannot relate. Maybe this means I miss out on a lot but luckily I have found other ways to go on. I have found other ways not to lash out at others or myself. I’m working toward my own balance even though it will never look like most people’s.
I witnessed a conversation with the sister of a boy who had been adopted at the age of 2 years old after being abused by his biological parents. As an adult “he has always been in trouble with the law and has been in jail.” Upon hearing this, a deep sorrow enveloped me. I have such empathy for that child, having three of my own adopted at a later age. It was with a sweet naiveté that I had them join our family, believing that love can cure all. Despite our family’s best efforts, love did NOT cure all. To pretend that it did does a disservice to all of those families living with similar children. As brightly as I may portray our family, (and they ARE wonderful children whom I have never regretted adopting,) they have serious disabilities when it comes to social norms. They have reactive attachment disorder.
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