I’ve had a pretty tiring past couple of weeks, so my poor blog’s been a bit neglected as of late. But it’s Friday night (yay!), and my husband’s playing a computer game that he’s been waiting for for a really long time, so what better time to update? 
*****
You may be looking at the image to the left, wondering what it is and what on earth it has to do with this blog, adoption and/or Korea. Directly, it doesn’t really have anything to do with adoption or Korea. But, if you’ve read this blog for a while now, you’d probably be somewhat aware that I’m a fan of similes, metaphors and… other such figurative language in relation to other aspects of my life. This image is a Magic the Gathering card – one of thousands and part of the card game I’ve recently been a tad* addicted to. For a very brief explanation, as from the official site:
The best part about a trading card game is that it’s always changing. You design and build your own unique decks, and eachMagic game you play is different.
On first glance, reading this card probably doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’ve only just started to find them easier to read and understand, myself. But this card can be sacrificed in order for the player to affect the game through the use of other cards (and hopefully win the game). The Magic card pictured here is known as a rare card. There aren’t a lot of them because their abilities are generally pretty good and can affect the game more than common cards can. They don’t show up in all packs of cards you can buy, and some of them are actually worth quite a bit of money. But even though the card above is considered a rare card, its ability, to me, is a bit… strange, and I probably wouldn’t use the card, myself.
This past week, I was saddened to hear the news that a fellow adoptee’s search for her birth family ended when her birth mother chose not to have any contact with her. I was sad for her that her search ended in this way. I think it’s what we all fear when it comes to searching for our birth families: our blood relatives rejecting us again. For what? The betterment of their own lives? For me, one of the worst things about being adopted is, like the card above’s ability, I feel as though I was a sacrifice on the part of my birth mother, hence giving me this inherent, deep down hatred for her. I was a sacrifice so she could possibly live a better life for herself, regardless of where I ended up (I’m her own flesh and blood, but hey… it was OK to just send me overseas, right?)
Life’s not fair. We’re told this time and time again. But in searching for our birth families, I think it’s unfair that in searching for our families, we still have this remaining fear and possibility of being rejected for the second time by the person who should have loved us first. That’s really hard to deal with, and I think that’s a major reason as to why it’s taken me 26 years to do anything about my own adoption and story.
I’ve read a few birth mothers’ blogs throughout the past year or so. I’ve read and tried to understand their stories. But when I see the stories of adoptees being rejected again in their search for (what I think should be a basic adoptee right) their genetic relatives, I can’t help but feel angry toward birth parents who claim that they’re lost and sad in giving us up for adoption. I feel like they had their choice… they still have a choice. Yet even 20, 30 years later, we’re still living in uncertainty and insecurity in terms of our identities due to the decisions they already made. They rejected us once… it almost seems inhumane and cruel for them to reject us again, yet it’s so common for them to do so.
Perhaps this seems like an “oh, poor me” blog post. Perhaps it seems like I’m wallowing in the misfortunes and unluckiness of being adopted, but I don’t see it as wallowing. I see both the possibility of being rejected for a second time, and having already been rejected, as struggles that we adoptees are likely to spend our lifetimes coming to terms with, while our birth parents go on living their lives, obviously uncaring about our wellbeing.
It’s easy for me to wish my birth mother has struggled through her time on earth. Through resentment… anger… even hatred. But at the same time, I hope her life has been rich, fortunate and abundant. I like to think that my sacrifice of personal identity, home and birth country/culture and family relations was for something – that it was worth me being sent away from the people I should still be with today.
What’s more, is that it’s too easy to think ‘oh, life is bad, my mother sacrificed me’, but I think the whole point of this post is to make clear the fear and uncertainty that we have to live with everyday: the fear of them rejecting us for the second time. And then how do we cope when/if they do? We’ve taken our whole lives to overcome the first rejection… how are we meant to confront another? Is it a Mirror of Fate that we’re just meant to be used for the “betterment” of our birth parents’ lives? What have they bought with their trading of us? Is it really worth it? Has it been worth it these past 26 years? For my own sake, I hope it has been. I hope my mother is living in some huge house, living the high life and enjoying that which she (obviously) wouldn’t have been able to attain with the inclusion of me in her life.
I think all people have some sort of fear of rejection. I’m definitely not saying that it’s just adoptees that go through this. We all have a fear of being turned down by those we love, care about and put our hopes on. I turn into a nervous wreck when it comes to applying for jobs and getting turned away; I’ve had my share of being dumped and rejected by members of the opposite sex; I’ve had all too many arguments, dramas and falling-outs with girl friends… but I don’t think any of these have really compared to the feeling of knowing that my biological mother rejected me from the get go. Don’t tell me she did it out of love; don’t tell me she did it because she wanted a better life for me… she did it because she wanted a better life for herself. How are we meant to deal with that?
*May be a slight understatement
