Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Keep Ben in the News
Touched by Adoption
Dont ask stupid questions
Who's House
Thursday, 27 February 2014
The time seems right for me to restart blog world. So much has happened, including breakdown and recovery from relapse of eating disorder. Proof though that for the adoptee adoption NEVER goes away.
I didnt know where to begin so Ive just began with some old drafts I didnt post.
Since Christmas I have thrown myself into the EU adoption site I set up with Mariana from illegal adoptions Greece I had hoped that my own situation would become something to let go of and put down to experience, that hasn't happened. The memories still keep bombarding me with no sense to them. I found it too painful writing this blog before but it did put a few things into order for me so here goes... round two.
Who's house was it? I know now it wasn't my real mums, so who's? We went after school one night, I know that because I remember wearing a green knitted cardigan so I must have been in junior school. Again I wanted to know about my mum and again I was told not to get upset but she didn't want me and she couldn't give a damn about me.
The next day you took me out of school early. In the car you told me we were going to see my mum. I don't remember how I felt. I can picture the house as though it was yesterday. The front door opened into the living room. It had red lino on the floor (think that's what it was called) and a window both sides of the door. There was a wooden table that wobbled under one window, I sat there with a boy painting. It was a magic painting book. You just dipped the paint brush in water and the colours came on the page (god why cant' everything be that easy). The woman (she wasn't my mum) had a beehive hair style though I haven't a clue what she looked like or who she was. You must have told me something about her, even if just to explain why we were at her house. A bit later (not sure how long) I was told my mum wasn't coming and we left. The woman gave me a tiny tears doll (which my niece now has) and the foot had been chewed on it.
All the way home I kept hearing 'told you she couldn't be bothered' 'you should have listened' 'its your own fault' (meaning my crying). I don't think I ever asked to see my mum after that. My mum knew nothing about it (I know now). Who's house was it, woman, who were you. All I am sure of is whoever she was she wasn't on my adop mums list of hate. I know because she didn't take tiny tears away from me. I don't even know if over the years I ever asked about the lady who gave me my doll, I probably did because I loved my tiny tears and a child would ask wouldn't they?
I will update this a bit later. I now know who the lady is... She is the one good thing to come out of all this and a special lady {but not my mum}.
Read More......
I didnt know where to begin so Ive just began with some old drafts I didnt post.
Since Christmas I have thrown myself into the EU adoption site I set up with Mariana from illegal adoptions Greece I had hoped that my own situation would become something to let go of and put down to experience, that hasn't happened. The memories still keep bombarding me with no sense to them. I found it too painful writing this blog before but it did put a few things into order for me so here goes... round two.
Who's house was it? I know now it wasn't my real mums, so who's? We went after school one night, I know that because I remember wearing a green knitted cardigan so I must have been in junior school. Again I wanted to know about my mum and again I was told not to get upset but she didn't want me and she couldn't give a damn about me.
The next day you took me out of school early. In the car you told me we were going to see my mum. I don't remember how I felt. I can picture the house as though it was yesterday. The front door opened into the living room. It had red lino on the floor (think that's what it was called) and a window both sides of the door. There was a wooden table that wobbled under one window, I sat there with a boy painting. It was a magic painting book. You just dipped the paint brush in water and the colours came on the page (god why cant' everything be that easy). The woman (she wasn't my mum) had a beehive hair style though I haven't a clue what she looked like or who she was. You must have told me something about her, even if just to explain why we were at her house. A bit later (not sure how long) I was told my mum wasn't coming and we left. The woman gave me a tiny tears doll (which my niece now has) and the foot had been chewed on it.
All the way home I kept hearing 'told you she couldn't be bothered' 'you should have listened' 'its your own fault' (meaning my crying). I don't think I ever asked to see my mum after that. My mum knew nothing about it (I know now). Who's house was it, woman, who were you. All I am sure of is whoever she was she wasn't on my adop mums list of hate. I know because she didn't take tiny tears away from me. I don't even know if over the years I ever asked about the lady who gave me my doll, I probably did because I loved my tiny tears and a child would ask wouldn't they?
I will update this a bit later. I now know who the lady is... She is the one good thing to come out of all this and a special lady {but not my mum}.
Purpose and Reason
Monday, 14 January 2008
At the end of the last year I was ready to give up. Not kill myself. Just give up. I was sick of how I was feeling, I was hurting proper bad. My eating disorder had come back with a vengeance and I just felt alone and stupid.
I don't think I will ever get over the fact that people who supposedly loved me convinced me 100% that I was borderline schizophrenic rather than be honest with me and also allow me to keep what where in fact memories. I often have to stop and remind myself that I am not nuts and that people are not noticing that I am (hard to explain). Christmas gave me a much needed wake up call. My daughter had asked me what her friend had said when she called at the house few days earlier. I couldn't remember word for word but told her she was going to call again on xmas day.Ten minutes later my daughter came back in and asked me if I was sure that she had said xmas day. That was it. My head started working over time. Questions, questions, questions. Had she said xmas day or had i imagined it. As quick as I went into 'disguise my panic' mode I was snapped back out of it... By my daughter. 'mum switch ya head off cos ya not mad she probably did say that'.What a fuck up! My own daughter having to remind me I'm not mad (or ever was). That's just not right. My weight was 6st 1lb I cried more than I smiled and instead of time healing me it was consuming me. Why, What for? A past I can never change. I know I wont be able to control those lapses in believing in myself over night, God I have lived since I was 16 trying to avoid people from noticing and knowing I was mad , in fact I had done such a good job of it people thought I was really level headed and had my head screwed on! fuck me though I did, I just didn't know it. However much it hurts sometimes the fact is I will never get justice and I will never have my childhood back,The two things I need. Looking at it like that tells me I am null and void because if there is a purpose to life then my purpose was a red herring and my wounds wont heal till my reason for being and purpose touch. I don't want to be null OR void. I want to be someone. I'm not asking to be any one special, just someone. Me. I just want to be me. Valid. I'm not going to give up because there is a purpose,guarded by government but a real purpose. My purpose has to be this:- The hope and possibility for healthier and happier minds for today's kids. I want politicians to start waking up and realise what pain they are storing up for our kids and actually listen and hear and above all understand that WE are the living breathing result of their false beliefs and mistakes of the past. Let them try and tell me that my hurt and the hurt of every misplaced, separated abused or mistreated child of their past is not important enough to learn from and to change. My reason:- Validation for all the children that cry inside us.
Letter I can never send
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Dear Mum, I don't know where to start, It's been just over two years since I last came to see you. I know you don't know why and I know it must hurt you. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm scared I would fall apart and never recover if we had this conversation face to face for real.
I know I haven't mentioned my real family since I was about 14years old and I know that it would never of entered your mind that I would try to look for them. Mum, I did look, and after twenty two years I found them. I met them for the first time two years ago. I'm sorry. I wish you where still the same person that you were when I was a child, this wouldn't hurt so much and I could just hate you and tell you what I thought of you. Your not that same person and you haven't been for many years. I understand so much more now.
What you did was wrong but apart of me can see how it must of been for you. I know you had arranged to adopt me before I was born. I know that my mum handed me over to you when I was ten days old. You had spent four months planning for me. My mum said you were devastated when she took me back one day later. She said how you tried to kill yourself. That's why she promised you that you could see me whenever you wanted.
She told me how much you and my dad loved me and how you spoilt me every time you seen me. I know she took advantage of you as well. She said when she was pregnant with my brother Michael it was often easier to just let you have me for a few weeks as a time.While she was living at her brothers and his wife's I know she left me with you more than she should have. She told me it was hard at her brothers because he had five kids and she and Mick (yes, they are still together) had me and baby Michael but it was made clear I should be got rid of. I was an illegitimate bastard and the families shame. I don't really know what her brother Jimmy told you or even if you knew my mum had a breakdown. All I know is that when I was three and a half you and dad took me on holiday and my mum didn't see me again.
You obviously knew what ever it was and what ever lies you dad and Jimmy told social services you knew it was wrong. It explains alot though. You must of been scared of been found out. The lies make sense but why did you tell me such horrible things about my mum. She never dumped me as a tiny baby and she did love me. Why did you always tell me she didn't want to know me. Why did you always tell me she was no good. You probably believed that though. Mum she isn't a bad person she was just a young naive girl who got pregnant. You told me she was a prostitute but apart from my dad Mick is the only man ever in her life. Did you know as well as Michael (who you never told me about) I also had two sisters.
I have so many things I want to ask you but I know in the real world I never will. When we speak on the phone I cry for hours when I put the phone down. I live two completely different lives now and neither of them is real. I cant be honest with you so I pretend on the phone that everything is fine. My real family I have had to tell them I had a happy childhood, it was the only saving for my mum. After you took me she had several breakdowns and never full recovered. I could never tell her the truth about my childhood and I could never tell her that I spent alot of time in children's homes, it would kill her. So I can never really have a relationship with my family because my child hood experiences made me who I am. To you I am Jxxxxxx your daughter who left home at 16. To my real family I am Donna, my mums daughter and big sister to Michael, Michelle and Allie, and I'm back where I belong. When I moved away at 16 I left my childhood behind and as you know every one knows me by my nick name. I cant be jxxxx because she was nothing but a lie. I cant be Donna because I don't know who she is and I don't want to be the person I became at 16 because to be her I have to be alone. It would of been easier if I had never been born.
Ben 16 years on
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
in 1991 21 month old Ben Needham went missing on the Island of Kos. Circumstances were similar in some ways to Maddie Mccann but the response was completely different. Ben's mum was a single parent who along with her parents and young brother had moved to the Greek Island to make a better life for themselves. On a sunny afternoon in broad daylight little Ben vanished off the face of the earth from out side the family home. The Maccans story is well known and the investigation is in the media almost everyday (as it should be).
Maddies parents both of whom are well respected Doctors have had mass media support and all legal costs funded by donations. Even Richard Branson the multimillionaire has offered to pay for anything they family needs. They were provided with the funds to remain in Portugal for as long as needed.
Kerry, Bens mother received no help at all. Media attention died down within a matter of weeks and she was let down by the Greek police investigating Bens disappearance in the worst possible way. The whole family had to leave the Island of Kos shortly after Ben went missing due to financial reasons. Why did no one come forward to offer financial help to this family who clearly needed it. Ben will be 18 shortly and his family with the help of a computer whizz have had a photograph done of how Ben would look today in the hope of either Ben or someone who knows him recognising him.
It has from the beginning been widely thought that Ben was taken by someone for illegal adoption. Greece at the time announced that Ben must be dead because 'no Greek person would steal a child'. Illegal adoption and especially that of blue eyed blond haired children (as Ben was) has been rife in Greece since the 1940's. Greece does not even have to this day a central data base of Birth records, making illegal abduction and adoption an easy mission.
Even if Ben is to be found and the adoption theory proven, who ever took him will go unpunished because Greece also has a 15 year statute of limitations, which for Ben has passed, so no one can ever be prosecuted for any crime towards Ben. The attitude in the UK, I'm ashamed to say, has for the Mccanns been sympathetic (even though they left 3 children under the age of 5 alone in an apartment) and they have been offered help at every turning. The same peoples attitude towards Kerry, Bens 19 year old mother was a complete contrast. She was portrayed as a single parent who had failed to keep her child safe and offered no help or compassion. The Greek police have now admitted they made grave errors in the immediate search for Ben but what good is that now. Does society really think that a persons financial status is what decides a persons worthiness and goodness. Sadly in the UK it seems to be the case.
Red door
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
It was a shop, that much never left me. The shop was on a long street, a street of houses though, not your typical row of shops (well typical of where I lived).
I knew the shop really well, I even knew my way around it, in my head I did anyway. It was a funny angled shape, its door wasn't on the front, it was sort of on the side. Imagine a square and you slice the corner off, that's where the door was.
I remember I used to sit on top of big hessian sacks of potatoes in the back of the shop while the adults drank cups of tea in the front. It was always cold in there and smelt of onions!
The outside of the shop had red pointed railings that pulled across the door of a night and fastened with a pad lock. I always remembered the step (I know, weird!). The step was shiny and dipped in the middle where it had been worn away and it was slippy!
Having something that vivid in your head either had to be real or you must be slightly mad. Well no one could tell me how I knew the shop. I asked dozens of times over the years and always heard the same thing, 'you've imagined it'. When I was about ten I must of been going on about it again and my sister who was two years older than me said she remembered it and said the shop was Josie's. I'm not sure how it went but I know it only took a few words from my adoptive mum to convince my sister she was wrong and had been thinking of somewhere else.
When I was 25 I was going through a rough time, It isn't easy to explain, but here goes; I had spent most of my childhood being told I was imagining things that I believed I was. Believing it was my imagination didn't stop the thoughts I had though so obviously I did think I was crazy.
I had ran away from my home town at sixteen and in a way reinvented my self.No one knew me or knew I was a bit mad and that's how I wanted to keep it. I never spoke about my past ever, just in case they guessed I was a bit mad. I did a good job of acting normal, well, normalish, having an eating disorder is a bit harder to hide! Every now and again though my crazy thoughts would appear and it was getting harder to ignore.
Back to when I was 25, the red shop came back with avengance. I had been put on anti-depressants (didn't mention my thoughts to doctor) and had started to feel I was losing the plot. I knew if I found the shop with the red door I would be ok. I would know I wasn't going mad again. I arranged for a friend to pick my son up from nursery the next day and have him over night. I dropped my son off and got the train to Liverpool.
I went to every area of Liverpool that I knew as a child, nothing. I got the last train back home. I must of cried for the hour and a half journey home. I had been convinced I would find it and everything would make sense. I just wanted to get my son and shut myself in the house. I got to my friends and my son was fast asleep it was obvious I had been crying (god, forgive me but I had lied to my mate and said I was going to a family funeral) so she convinced me to stay the night with her. A month later I had what they said was a nervous breakdown. A complete shock to all my friends because they had always seen me as a strong person.
The second time I met my real family was in Liverpool. I had found them two weeks earlier and had gone to stay with them for a couple of weeks. I stayed at my real sisters house (though the whole family live in the same street) on the second night we were going through all the family photos and getting to know each other slowly. I told her about the red door but she didn't comment on it.
The next morning she insisted we go and get some fags. We had been in our pyjamas since the night I got there( pigs Yeh! but we had a lot of catching up to do!). We got dressed and she asked if I'd go to the shop while she fed her baby. She said I couldn't get lost because it was only near the bottom of the road. I saw the railings they were blue though not red, I felt physically sick. I walked in bought the fags and left. My sister was standing on her doorstep and she just hugged me. She said she knew straight away what shop I was talking about. The shop is called the sister shop in Peel rd Bootle, I had been born in the next rd. The name my adopted sister had mentioned Josie, was my real mums best friend.
email discoveries june 2005
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
I went through some old emails today. They were sent between me and Colette, a girl I had got to know through my search. The emails dated between June 14th 2005 and July 12th 2005.
Colette was a member of a genealogy site that I joined. I must of been a member of every adoption and genealogy site on the web. She had seen one of my post asking if any one had any information about my real mum. All I knew at that point was her name and a rough Idea of the area she had lived in. Oh and I had her marriage certificate that someone else had got hold of for me.
I had already been through all the electoral registers and drew a blank. Colette emailed me to say she couldn't find any records of my mum but she had come across a mans name at various addresses over the past few years who could well be her husband. I'm not sure why but at some point we came to the conclusion that they must be divorced. Over the course of the next week the emails flew between us.
The most recent address we had for this man who had to be her husband (in my mind, anyway) was in Bootle. Colette actually lived in the same area!
We still hadn't found anything on my mum and Colette emailed me on June21st with a question. Did I think she might be dead. Yeh, I did. I had thought it for the past week. I'm not sure how I felt because at that point I still didn't know the full truth behind my adoption. I still thought she had dumped me at 10 days old and that was it. So I never was looking for a relationship, I had always thought that whatever her reasons they were right for her at the time and I had no right to intrude into her life.
I decided I was going to write to her husband, with any luck even if they had had a nasty divorce he might have a heart and tell me about her and maybe give me a photo. The next 3 days Colette and her sister kept an eye on the address we had, hoping to see him. I wasn't going to write if he looked like a murderer! They had no luck, it was a house made into flats so there were lots of people coming and going. I tried to persuade her to knock the door and pretend to be a market researcher but she was having none of it!
June 27th. Michael G. Byrne of the said address was not my mums husband. He was her son. My brother. Colette had been to the records office looking for a death certificate and came away with a birth certificate. Two days later she went back and came away with the birth certificates of my two sisters. It had never entered my head that I might have brothers or sisters. July 12th I learned my mum was alive and well and had an address for her.
Why should I or any other human being have to do shit like that and discover like that who they are. That was my family I was discovering, my birth right, part of ME!
Read More......
Colette was a member of a genealogy site that I joined. I must of been a member of every adoption and genealogy site on the web. She had seen one of my post asking if any one had any information about my real mum. All I knew at that point was her name and a rough Idea of the area she had lived in. Oh and I had her marriage certificate that someone else had got hold of for me.
I had already been through all the electoral registers and drew a blank. Colette emailed me to say she couldn't find any records of my mum but she had come across a mans name at various addresses over the past few years who could well be her husband. I'm not sure why but at some point we came to the conclusion that they must be divorced. Over the course of the next week the emails flew between us.
The most recent address we had for this man who had to be her husband (in my mind, anyway) was in Bootle. Colette actually lived in the same area!
We still hadn't found anything on my mum and Colette emailed me on June21st with a question. Did I think she might be dead. Yeh, I did. I had thought it for the past week. I'm not sure how I felt because at that point I still didn't know the full truth behind my adoption. I still thought she had dumped me at 10 days old and that was it. So I never was looking for a relationship, I had always thought that whatever her reasons they were right for her at the time and I had no right to intrude into her life.
I decided I was going to write to her husband, with any luck even if they had had a nasty divorce he might have a heart and tell me about her and maybe give me a photo. The next 3 days Colette and her sister kept an eye on the address we had, hoping to see him. I wasn't going to write if he looked like a murderer! They had no luck, it was a house made into flats so there were lots of people coming and going. I tried to persuade her to knock the door and pretend to be a market researcher but she was having none of it!
June 27th. Michael G. Byrne of the said address was not my mums husband. He was her son. My brother. Colette had been to the records office looking for a death certificate and came away with a birth certificate. Two days later she went back and came away with the birth certificates of my two sisters. It had never entered my head that I might have brothers or sisters. July 12th I learned my mum was alive and well and had an address for her.
Why should I or any other human being have to do shit like that and discover like that who they are. That was my family I was discovering, my birth right, part of ME!
They call it education
Monday, 24 September 2007
If any of you are wondering how we should be educating kids about adoption, look no further than the adoption clubhouse. The Adoption Clubhouse is designed, authored and formatted by adoption professionals (how scary is that!) I don't know how I ended up at this wealth of advice adoption site but I know I couldn't leave easily. I was gripped. Every now and again I had to go back and double check that I had really read the words professionals.The site is mainly aimed at young adopted kids. Great I thought, at last, somewhere for them to go and perhaps get some real and honest answers.
I have to admit I laughed my head off at some of what I was reading. I had to laugh because if I didn't I would of cried. Here are some of the 'positive' adoption words that are encouraged. BIRTH parents -My Son/Daughter - International Adoption - Child from Abroad - Was Adopted. Here are some negative' adoption words. Adopted Child - Foreign Adoption - Foreign Child - Is Adopted -. So it is positive to say a child WAS adopted but it is negative to say a child IS adopted. May be they mean the child WAS adopted but now that child is no more because it has been reinvented!
The site has an advice section to help deal with those awkward questions school friends might ask. The main thing it seems is to not only answer but to educate at the same time. So question: have you met your real parents? educate yes i live with my real parents perhaps you are referring to my birth parents. Question: Why didn't your real mother want you? Some moms are too young to keep their babies.
This part of the site was my favourite. If a child feels odd or different because of adoption just tell them about the animal kingdom.There are documented cases of pigs and dogs adopting and nursing kittens, of mother cats nurturing puppies and baby skunks, and even one case of a bird mothering a turtle and another mama dog taking care of a baby bird. Aaarh, almost warms the heart doesn't it! but the cuckoo story is the best. Cuckoo birds are definitely not cuckoo. They have adapted to their environment in amazing ways! Adult cuckoo birds never have to build nests or raise young. The female lays eggs that look like the eggs of other bird species, and then carries her eggs to those nests. If the "adoptive mother" does not feed the baby cuckoo often enough, the young bird will make different calls to other cuckoo mother birds to come and feed it. German people are so impressed with the clever cuckoo, they carve their images into beautiful wooden clocks called cuckoo clocks. So the next time you feel more different than you want to, think of all of the other adopted people in the world and the adopted animals. Adoption is a great way to build a family, no matter what your species. There everyone feeling better now. How could you possibly feel odd after hearing rubbish like that haha.
The site also boasts an adoption dictionary. Explanations to the most common adoption related words. After seeing the first word was ADD Attention Deficit Disorder I decided enough was enough! I wonder if I would still be as fucked up if I had had the wisdom of such a web site when I was a child!
Read More......
I have to admit I laughed my head off at some of what I was reading. I had to laugh because if I didn't I would of cried. Here are some of the 'positive' adoption words that are encouraged. BIRTH parents -My Son/Daughter - International Adoption - Child from Abroad - Was Adopted. Here are some negative' adoption words. Adopted Child - Foreign Adoption - Foreign Child - Is Adopted -. So it is positive to say a child WAS adopted but it is negative to say a child IS adopted. May be they mean the child WAS adopted but now that child is no more because it has been reinvented!
The site has an advice section to help deal with those awkward questions school friends might ask. The main thing it seems is to not only answer but to educate at the same time. So question: have you met your real parents? educate yes i live with my real parents perhaps you are referring to my birth parents. Question: Why didn't your real mother want you? Some moms are too young to keep their babies.
This part of the site was my favourite. If a child feels odd or different because of adoption just tell them about the animal kingdom.There are documented cases of pigs and dogs adopting and nursing kittens, of mother cats nurturing puppies and baby skunks, and even one case of a bird mothering a turtle and another mama dog taking care of a baby bird. Aaarh, almost warms the heart doesn't it! but the cuckoo story is the best. Cuckoo birds are definitely not cuckoo. They have adapted to their environment in amazing ways! Adult cuckoo birds never have to build nests or raise young. The female lays eggs that look like the eggs of other bird species, and then carries her eggs to those nests. If the "adoptive mother" does not feed the baby cuckoo often enough, the young bird will make different calls to other cuckoo mother birds to come and feed it. German people are so impressed with the clever cuckoo, they carve their images into beautiful wooden clocks called cuckoo clocks. So the next time you feel more different than you want to, think of all of the other adopted people in the world and the adopted animals. Adoption is a great way to build a family, no matter what your species. There everyone feeling better now. How could you possibly feel odd after hearing rubbish like that haha.
The site also boasts an adoption dictionary. Explanations to the most common adoption related words. After seeing the first word was ADD Attention Deficit Disorder I decided enough was enough! I wonder if I would still be as fucked up if I had had the wisdom of such a web site when I was a child!
My name is Donna 1974
Wednesday, 19 September 2007
I am finding all this harder than I thought it would be. The more I try and go back over the years, the more my emotions go array. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
The truth, that's all I ever wanted. I didn't want the perfect story or tales of being the chosen one (just as well!). I just wanted MY story, nothing else, just the truth. I was about nine or ten when I discovered the first bit of evidence, evidence doesn't seem the right word, but cant think of another way to say it. My amum and adad had gone out. They would go to Bing three or four nights a week leaving me and my sister at home. My favourite pass time was 'rooting'. I used to root everywhere. I didn't even know what I was looking for, I just knew there was something to find. I had never managed to get into the bottom of my amums wardrobe before it was usually locked. She has a couple of times showed us photos that she kept in a box there, they were special times. It didn't take long before I was on the floor surrounded by lots of papers and other boring stuff. I had got it all out just to have to put it all back and for nothing. Then I found it. I don't know what it was, I just thought it was about me. The name on it was Donna Marie ####### it also had another name on it. I was convinced that it was about me and my real mum. I quickly put everything back and hoped I wouldn't get found out. After a few weeks I couldn't keep it in any longer so I remember coming out with some rubbish to my amum about seeing something that had the names on it and I asked her who it was. She had never heard of them and didn't know what I was going on about. I don't remember much else about it. I know there was lots of ranting and raving but not much else. The bottom of her wardrobe was emptied and I never saw the boxes again. I had used to pretend my name was Donna when I was very small so seeing the name in black and white confused me. I was being told I had imagined it (even though it was burnt into my head). My amum wouldn't lie to me, nothing made sense. Although The names on the paper stuck with me I did eventually wonder if I had (along with many other things) imagined it. My amum said years later that I had probably imagined finding something because I had wanted to so much. At the age of twenty seven My Social Worker sat me down and he didn't have to say a word. I knew. I had spent forever trying to find out about myself with no luck. Then I decided to risk being called mad again and told my social worker about my 'fantasies'. Fantasies that had put me into a psychiatric hospital at the age of fourteen for over a year. My name was Donna Marie and the other name was my real mum. I had spent all my life thinking I was weird and watching everything I said to people so they wouldn't know I was strange and all along my so called weirdness were just memories.
Adoption File
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
I finally received my adoption file in 1994. When I was handed it I went through every emotion possible. Shock and disbelief were two emotions that refused to go away.
I don't know what shocked me more, learning that my childhood 'imaginary' name was actually the name I was given at birth or how little information there was in it. The two page questionnaire held no surprises or the torn bit of paper (which fell apart while I tried to scan it!). They read pretty much as my adoptive family had told me. I had been handed over to them at ten days of age by my real mum. I wasn't to find out for another eleven years that my afamily with the help of my real mums brother had lied to social services.
The file also contained a yellow form that had my birth name on it and my real mums name on it, along with date of birth. The form was to be sent off to the Registrar General at Southport and they would then send my birth certificate to me!! Now this is where, if you didn't already think I was a bit mad in the head, you will definitely think I am now. I couldn't part with that yellow form. It was the only thing I had ever had or seen that told me who I was. It also had my mums name on it. I cant explain how amazing that felt.
I photo copied the form and sent it off to Southport only to have it returned with a letter stating they could only except original forms. I was gutted. If it was to get lost in the post I would never ever have that confirmation again of who I was. I did warn you all that I'm a bit mad! The logical thing would of been to just keep the photo copy and send the original. YES!! I know! but I couldn't, I had waited nearly thirty years to have an identity I was scared stiff of losing it again. I hate thinking about just how desperate I felt at that time. Makes me feel a bit a sad freak to be honest, but hey fuck it I wanted a mum and needed a mum. I wanted to be loved.
I didn't part with my yellow form for over six years. The year 2000 I sent it off and got my birth certificate. here is how the powers that be summed up my birth. My adoption was little more than a clerical error at birth!
16 November 2006 11:48:08 PM Diary
Friday, 31 August 2007
I can’t sleep again; my head just won’t switch off. It's been nearly a year since I found my mum, sisters, and brother and it's been 3 week since I found and met my dad’s son David.
My 22 years of searching for family is over now but I still have the truth to deal with.
My head is so full of mixed and jumbled feelings that I have decided to write this diary. I hope that'. I'll be able to look back at this one day and know it was all worth it.
I’ve been thinking none stop about David all week. When I met him 3 weeks ago, it was dead weird, I had never ever thought I might have family on my dad’s side that would want to see me never mind want to have a relationship with me.
I hadn't felt emotional when I met David, I had seen it as just getting to know details about my dad, who I'd always thought had denied me when I was a baby. I was gobsmacked when real mum confessed to me the morning I met him that actually my dad didn’t know about me.
I drove back to Liverpool with David but wasn’t sure what to think. He told me that our dad had suffered many strokes and his mind was going too. He has altzhimers, which shocked me, but I didn’t know how to feel.
David dropped me at Ally’s and even though he said he wanted to get to know me, I don’t think I expected to see him again. He turned up at Ally’s the next day and as I jumped in his car, I felt completely different. I can’t explain it but I just felt at ease with him and I wanted to be with him.
Over the next week, my head just exploded with everything. For the first time in my life, I wanted a dad, my dad. I can’t bear to think of him as he is. David gave me photos of him and I just look at them and cry. I know that because of his health we will never get the chance to be father and daughter.
I was angry with real mum for not telling me the truth and felt it was her fault it was too late for us. I know I was wrong to think that and if I’m honest I can understand why she lied to him and never told me. It doesn’t matter now because it's in the past.
I've felt like shit all week because I had started to think David had changed his mind about me. I feel a prat saying it but just because he hadn’t, rang me Id started to feel a fool for even hoping he would. Anyway I sent him a text, couldn’t ring in case he made an excuse not to speak to me! That would have killed me. He rang me back about an hour later and he was fine. He has just been busy with work and sorting nursing home out for his dad.
I'm finding it so hard sometimes. I have always been secure in myself but not anymore. Sometimes I get a knot so tight in my belly because I'm so scared everyone will disappear. Oh, well I’m crying now, always do when I admit how I really feel, so hopefully I will be able to fall asleep.
Update – I have not seen or heard off David since then.
Read More......
My 22 years of searching for family is over now but I still have the truth to deal with.
My head is so full of mixed and jumbled feelings that I have decided to write this diary. I hope that'. I'll be able to look back at this one day and know it was all worth it.
I’ve been thinking none stop about David all week. When I met him 3 weeks ago, it was dead weird, I had never ever thought I might have family on my dad’s side that would want to see me never mind want to have a relationship with me.
I hadn't felt emotional when I met David, I had seen it as just getting to know details about my dad, who I'd always thought had denied me when I was a baby. I was gobsmacked when real mum confessed to me the morning I met him that actually my dad didn’t know about me.
I drove back to Liverpool with David but wasn’t sure what to think. He told me that our dad had suffered many strokes and his mind was going too. He has altzhimers, which shocked me, but I didn’t know how to feel.
David dropped me at Ally’s and even though he said he wanted to get to know me, I don’t think I expected to see him again. He turned up at Ally’s the next day and as I jumped in his car, I felt completely different. I can’t explain it but I just felt at ease with him and I wanted to be with him.
Over the next week, my head just exploded with everything. For the first time in my life, I wanted a dad, my dad. I can’t bear to think of him as he is. David gave me photos of him and I just look at them and cry. I know that because of his health we will never get the chance to be father and daughter.
I was angry with real mum for not telling me the truth and felt it was her fault it was too late for us. I know I was wrong to think that and if I’m honest I can understand why she lied to him and never told me. It doesn’t matter now because it's in the past.
I've felt like shit all week because I had started to think David had changed his mind about me. I feel a prat saying it but just because he hadn’t, rang me Id started to feel a fool for even hoping he would. Anyway I sent him a text, couldn’t ring in case he made an excuse not to speak to me! That would have killed me. He rang me back about an hour later and he was fine. He has just been busy with work and sorting nursing home out for his dad.
I'm finding it so hard sometimes. I have always been secure in myself but not anymore. Sometimes I get a knot so tight in my belly because I'm so scared everyone will disappear. Oh, well I’m crying now, always do when I admit how I really feel, so hopefully I will be able to fall asleep.
Update – I have not seen or heard off David since then.
