There is nothing wrong with me, "Mom".
Yeah, I call you "mom" for lack of a better understanding of who you are and what you've done to me. In the back of my head, however, I know that you are my mom in name only. I know I have another mom, a REAL mom, a mom who actually carried and birthed me, out there somewhere. And on some subconscious level, I know the love and loyalty you demand of me belongs to her. And on (perhaps the same) subconscious level, I know my feelings towards you are a betrayal to her. After all, it is your pathological need to be a mother that perpetuates our separation. You could have put your adoption efforts toward supporting my broken family, perhaps helping me have the life I truly belonged to. That wasn't on your agenda; I doubt the thought of helping my family ever crossed your mind.
So now you've got me. Congratulations.
While you are celebrating your accomplishment and patting your own back, I am suffering. You only notice because I hurt your feelings by rejecting you. Which is, of course, my fault. I'm just not "letting go" and "moving on" well enough. Of course I must be malfunctioning. Bad baby! Bad! Stop screaming and go to sleep! Don't you see you're ruining my adoption day party?
According to you, I'm already "triangulating". I'm "manipulating" you and your family with my incessant wailing.
I'm not doing this to hurt you, you know.
My unhappiness, the shadow over my life, is not a shot at you. I'm not pretending in order to manipulate the adults around me, gain favor, or maintain control. As a child I have literally no understanding of these ideas. When I act out and make your life miserable, how miserable you are is the furthest thing from my mind.
Most of what's on my mind is how miserable I am.
Really. I'm not "trying" to make you miserable. I'm trying to survive. I am literally clinging onto life rafts to stay afloat. And even you, the one I want the most and the least, with your temper, impatience, and expectations, are a safer port than open ocean. The known evil is, especially for a child, safer than the unknown, even if the unknown might be better.
I don't "endear myself" to your husband to try to "break up your marriage", "drive a wedge between you", or "undermine your parenting". In fact, the idea of your marriage breaking up fills me with a terror so deep and chilling it's enough to shut me down. The LAST thing I want is your marriage to fail. My life is already screwy enough, and I really don't understand why until I grow up. You may be cruel and angry at me all the time about everything I do, and he may be emotionally absent and detached at best, but you are the only stability I have in a life that has already been destroyed once. I cling to him because he isn't mad at me all the time. He's not always disappointed in me. Unlike you, he seems to like me.
It's the same reason I attach to other adults than you. I'm not trying to get anything from them but attention, kindness, and maybe some sense of approval. They aren't like you. They aren't mad at me all the time, making me feel like I can't do ANYTHING right. They don't make me feel guilty for existing. You do, "Mom".
I'm not lying all the time.
I know you think I am. You and your "specialists" and your "therapists" have yourselves convinced that there's something wrong with me. And there is. But it's not what you think. It's called Ambiguous Grief.
A majority of the times you accused me of lying, I wasn't. I may have said things you didn't like or want to believe, but that didn't make them lies. At first. But after a while you wore me down, and I no longer saw the point in trying to tell you the truth, because you were just going to yell at me about lying. So then I did lie, and I didn't care anymore if you believed me. But what you have to realize, "mom", is that you drove me to it.
I am the product of your parenting.
Yes, I started off life with fundamental trauma and was set with distinct disadvantages. I was biogically programmed to be who I am.
However, it was your job to help me adjust. Your job to help me cope and understand what had and was happening to me. I lacked the requisite cognitive abilities and coping mechanisms to understand what you and my relinquishers did. You, on the other hand, should have been in full possession of both these faculties and the ability to properly disseminate all available information on the subject. Your failure to do so lies at your own feet, and claiming "I didn't know" is no excuse. You don't get to pathologize or pass the responsibility for your failure to properly help me adjust off onto me.
Yes, I had issues that were very hard to deal with. If you couldn't figure out how to help me cope with the adoption you inflicted on me, that's your fault, not mine.
We Are What You Make Us
There is no RAD, not, at least, the way it is applied as a blanket diagnosis on adopted persons. In that capacity the diagnosis is an invention to get insurance to pay for the bogus, damaging "therapies" and permanently mind-altering drugs they inflict upon us. Our honest statements are disregarded as "manipulation" and these "treatments" are intensified until we are permanently incarcerated or we acquiesced and echo the version of reality they want us to parrot.
These treatments do far more harm than any "lack of attachment" ever has. These treatments create violent psychopaths.
And frankly we don't have a problem attaching. We just don't attach the way you want us to. Or maybe we just have a problem attaching to you.
Yeah, I call you "mom" for lack of a better understanding of who you are and what you've done to me. In the back of my head, however, I know that you are my mom in name only. I know I have another mom, a REAL mom, a mom who actually carried and birthed me, out there somewhere. And on some subconscious level, I know the love and loyalty you demand of me belongs to her. And on (perhaps the same) subconscious level, I know my feelings towards you are a betrayal to her. After all, it is your pathological need to be a mother that perpetuates our separation. You could have put your adoption efforts toward supporting my broken family, perhaps helping me have the life I truly belonged to. That wasn't on your agenda; I doubt the thought of helping my family ever crossed your mind.
So now you've got me. Congratulations.
While you are celebrating your accomplishment and patting your own back, I am suffering. You only notice because I hurt your feelings by rejecting you. Which is, of course, my fault. I'm just not "letting go" and "moving on" well enough. Of course I must be malfunctioning. Bad baby! Bad! Stop screaming and go to sleep! Don't you see you're ruining my adoption day party?
According to you, I'm already "triangulating". I'm "manipulating" you and your family with my incessant wailing.
I'm not doing this to hurt you, you know.
My unhappiness, the shadow over my life, is not a shot at you. I'm not pretending in order to manipulate the adults around me, gain favor, or maintain control. As a child I have literally no understanding of these ideas. When I act out and make your life miserable, how miserable you are is the furthest thing from my mind.
Most of what's on my mind is how miserable I am.
Really. I'm not "trying" to make you miserable. I'm trying to survive. I am literally clinging onto life rafts to stay afloat. And even you, the one I want the most and the least, with your temper, impatience, and expectations, are a safer port than open ocean. The known evil is, especially for a child, safer than the unknown, even if the unknown might be better.
I don't "endear myself" to your husband to try to "break up your marriage", "drive a wedge between you", or "undermine your parenting". In fact, the idea of your marriage breaking up fills me with a terror so deep and chilling it's enough to shut me down. The LAST thing I want is your marriage to fail. My life is already screwy enough, and I really don't understand why until I grow up. You may be cruel and angry at me all the time about everything I do, and he may be emotionally absent and detached at best, but you are the only stability I have in a life that has already been destroyed once. I cling to him because he isn't mad at me all the time. He's not always disappointed in me. Unlike you, he seems to like me.
It's the same reason I attach to other adults than you. I'm not trying to get anything from them but attention, kindness, and maybe some sense of approval. They aren't like you. They aren't mad at me all the time, making me feel like I can't do ANYTHING right. They don't make me feel guilty for existing. You do, "Mom".
I'm not lying all the time.
I know you think I am. You and your "specialists" and your "therapists" have yourselves convinced that there's something wrong with me. And there is. But it's not what you think. It's called Ambiguous Grief.
A majority of the times you accused me of lying, I wasn't. I may have said things you didn't like or want to believe, but that didn't make them lies. At first. But after a while you wore me down, and I no longer saw the point in trying to tell you the truth, because you were just going to yell at me about lying. So then I did lie, and I didn't care anymore if you believed me. But what you have to realize, "mom", is that you drove me to it.
I am the product of your parenting.
Yes, I started off life with fundamental trauma and was set with distinct disadvantages. I was biogically programmed to be who I am.
However, it was your job to help me adjust. Your job to help me cope and understand what had and was happening to me. I lacked the requisite cognitive abilities and coping mechanisms to understand what you and my relinquishers did. You, on the other hand, should have been in full possession of both these faculties and the ability to properly disseminate all available information on the subject. Your failure to do so lies at your own feet, and claiming "I didn't know" is no excuse. You don't get to pathologize or pass the responsibility for your failure to properly help me adjust off onto me.
Yes, I had issues that were very hard to deal with. If you couldn't figure out how to help me cope with the adoption you inflicted on me, that's your fault, not mine.
We Are What You Make Us
There is no RAD, not, at least, the way it is applied as a blanket diagnosis on adopted persons. In that capacity the diagnosis is an invention to get insurance to pay for the bogus, damaging "therapies" and permanently mind-altering drugs they inflict upon us. Our honest statements are disregarded as "manipulation" and these "treatments" are intensified until we are permanently incarcerated or we acquiesced and echo the version of reality they want us to parrot.
These treatments do far more harm than any "lack of attachment" ever has. These treatments create violent psychopaths.
And frankly we don't have a problem attaching. We just don't attach the way you want us to. Or maybe we just have a problem attaching to you.
Thank you. So true...
ReplyDeleteMY TESTIMONY AS AN ILLUMINATI MEMBER
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