My parents told me I was adopted from the beginning. Early. The social worker suggested it. By the time I was a toddler, I was running through the K-mart declaring, "I'm adopted! I'm adopted!" At the time, my parents thought it was cute. Until my 20s, I thought so too.
But by the age of 27, I started to wonder where Momma Bird was, for real. It wasn't just a childhood fantasy anymore that "one day I would find." The time was now and I was ready, or so I thought.
Photo by Patty Maher http://bit.ly/1UO9M1K
One thing about adoptees, for me anyway: we have no trouble telling others we are adopted. It seems to be a regular part of conversation. My pastor suggested I work with an intern in her ministry working toward her graduate degree in Psychology.
This graduate student at Winthrop wanted to work with me for six weeks using therapies to specifically talk about my adoption. She videotaped these sessions for her thesis. She used a technique called Gestalt Therapy, which is talking to an empty chair.
I just stared at it. I didn't know what she looked like. Just staring into that space and began mumbling. Before long I was screaming at the chair with the questions that had been at the back of my mind for years: "Why couldn't you keep me?" "Did you ever think about me?" "Do you miss me at all?" I could hear my voice start to shrill and get louder and louder with tears and snot flying before expressing my full anger with
"Why couldn't you keep your legs together?"
I sounded like every mother of a teenager trying to shame her into being a "good girl." I shocked myself at the judgements and the words flying from within me. Supreme anger at this person for leaving me, for having me, for making mistakes, but mainly for leaving me behind.
I cannot remember the rest of the session. But I can tell you that my inner healing advanced that day and within the 6 weeks of sessions with Leslie. God was interested in my inner healing as much as I was in "figuring out my life."
I didn't know it then, but I was about to move to Nashville, which put me three hours from my birthplace. I was sctually traveling the road to find my birth mother/family and grateful for every step of healing along the way.
Screaming at that empty chair worked. It showed me that having a chance to express all the pent up anger is vital to healing the mental and emotional cancer and torment of being adopted. In a safe place with someone I trusted, I was free to release all that had been stuffed down inside. It was the beginning of a lifelong healing journey which continues every day.
What methods have you experienced that brought healing into your psyche and heart?
Please share your experience with me.
