Yes, today is one of those days. A day when I am in that mindset of just being angry.
A day when I just really can't rein myself or my feelings in. When the ability to try and appeal with the "facts" instead of the "emotions" has disappeared from reach. Left me with the frame of mind of just being mad at everything and anything that has to do with this disgusting industry working to separate mothers and children everywhere.
I hate adoption. I hate it in every form and every way.
I hate the hopeful couples waiting for the next desperate, confused, heartbroken woman who feels she has no choice but to lose her child to them. I hate the adoptive moms who hear the pain-filled voices of the mom's who have lost and shove them aside to nothing so they can continue to believe adoption is a wonderful thing. I hate the church loyals, trying so desperately to convince themselves and the rest of the world of their "Godly" mission to rip a child from his or her mother's arms.
I hate it all today.
And this almost over-powering emotion is like a burning canon ready to explode over everyone and anyone who takes it upon themselves to preach the "greatness" of adoption. To blindly view it as such a great, remarkable act in which a poor, needy child is miracuously rescued by some perfectly wonderful couple so deserving to be parents.
The blinders that are worn tear like fierce claws through my skin. The absolute disregard for the suffering brought on by adoption is a constant fist squeezing around my heart, draining me of any and all ability to approach the topic in a fair and informative way.
I know it's a wrong approach, but on days like today, I don't know how to push myself past these feelings. When again I learn more of the truth my son faced, of the ugliness his childhood was BECAUSE of adoption, I struggle unsuccessfully to find a way to bring my voice to a use of good when I want only to use it for the anger raging inside.
How does anyone make sense or find a way to get past the ugly visions of your son being tasered by a son-of-a-*itch uncle who thought his position as a volunteer police officer gave him the right to abuse whoever in the hell he wanted.
How do you work past knowing he spent his teenage years being told over and over again that he wasn't wanted in the family. That he didn't belong, didn't deserve to be recognized as one of them.
I hate it! I hate every bit of it! And I just want to reach out and make them all pay. Hurt every last one of them in the same way they hurt my son.
I want the world of adoption to end completely so that no other child, no other soul, has to suffer in the way my son did. I couldn't protect him. Couldn't save him from the monsters who were supposed to love and support him in every way.
And I can't change it for him now. Can't do a damn thing to turn back the hands of time and take him away from that hell.
A hell he lived through without ever knowing I was on the other end thinking of him, loving him, never, ever forgetting about him.
And they made sure he didn't know. Made sure any ties to myself or the rest of his family didn't exist. Wasn't there to atleast give him some comfort that we loved him and cherished him and missed him every day of our lives.
I had one last area in his adoption I foolishly trusted. I had believed, up until today, that for the first five years of his life he recieved the Christmas and Birthday gifts we sent, the letters and pictures that kept him a part of our family.
I have spent the past year blaming his adoptive father for no longer passing on his gifts after his fifth birthday, when he and his adoptive mom divorced. Believed, in some naive part of my mind, that his adoptive mom would have of course still passed on these gifts and letters if she had just received them.
But like all else in adoption, lies became the truth of my beliefs.
Never once did the letters and pics I sent ever reach his hands. He had nothing. No words, no images from us to know of our love, of our always existent thoughts of him. And his gifts, the ones I had foolishly believed were held back from him through his adoptive dad - I've learned now he did recieve them but were told they were from his adoptive mom or adoptive aunt and uncle.
These monsters took his gifts from us and used them as their own!
How could they? How could anyone do that to a child?
I just don't understand. I want to reach into him and grab all his pain and take it away. Remove it permanently from his life. But I can't. I can't do anything because adoption still rules our lives. Still shapes us into who we are today.
And it has never been a good thing. Never been that "great miracle" so many want to portray it as.
And it's a hell my son lives with while so many others want to believe his experience is nothing more than a rare, bad occurence that wouldn't happen to them, to their children.
But who knows. Who has a clue which child is next. Who can say one person from the next won't be the adoptive parent to treat their child in the same way my son was treated.
My son couldn't be saved. Many other adoptees before and with him couldn't be saved. When are we finally going to stand up and stop this disgusting practice so the next child around the corner won't face this hell.
When will we finally say one child abused is too many and end the practices that take children away from their mothers and place them in a hell they never asked for?
In Other Words: Susan Harness and Sandy White Hawk
20 minutes ago