When you think back to events that have happened in your life, it can sometimes be challenging to wrap your mind around them. One moment, your day-to-day is fine, and the next, it feels like your entire world is falling apart.
I was 11 when I was adopted.
I wasn’t adopted because I did not have a mom or dad, but because my biological parents were absent from most of my life.
Family is a word with many different meanings that holds great importance to me. It does not just mean being blood-related to someone; family is who or what feels like home. My family has always been the people who stepped up for me when I needed them most. The people in my life who have stayed when everyone else left.
This may seem like a sad story, but it’s my story, and I have learned to embrace it.
Throughout your life, you will meet hundreds of people, some of whom will be of blood relation, but the majority of the bunch will be people with whom you will grow strong bonds and connections. My adoptive family are those people, the ones who took me in when no one else did. They were there for me when my sisters and I needed someone the most. They have always been our biggest supporters. My Aunt and Uncle helped me and my two sisters in more ways than one. They showed me personally what it felt like to be in a true family, the one where you don’t have to think twice about everyday needs.
Being adopted is often never a bad factor. Things happen in your life that are out of your control, and you have to learn to cope with them. I used to write in a journal every night about how my day went. Sometimes, I would share it with those around me, but the deep, dark parts of myself I kept hidden. The parts that I didn’t want anyone to see because I was afraid of the image it would portray. My aunt/my mom was the only one to know about these parts of me. She was with us for two years before she passed away in 2020. My favorite person was gone, and I felt like I had no one. The years after were very hard, but my fairly new family and I pushed through it all.
Being adopted poses many types of questions, most of which I feel comfortable answering, but some that I don’t like to open up about. I get asked about my story because it is a very confusing one, so I’ll briefly explain.
When I was around 10, the custody of my sisters and I was taken from my mother. At this point, my biological father was rarely in my life, so his rights were already terminated prior. I was taken out of my third-grade class, asked a few questions about my living situation, and then I was on my way to the trailer to get my belongings. It was a sad day overall, lots of crying and begging to go back, but I knew that I couldn’t go back. Later on in the day, I arrived at my aunt and uncle’s house, where my other two sisters were staying as well. I felt a little bit nauseous being somewhere other than “home,” but I quickly learned how to cope with my new life.
Overall, it was an exhilarating experience, one that I will carry with me forever. There are many different detailed factors leading up to me being here today. But that is a story for another time.
Being adopted is never something to be ashamed of. Stay true to yourself and speak through your actions and the way you present yourself. My family is the one that is always here for me, no matter what. I am eternally grateful for them, and I don’t know where I would be if it weren’t for my parents.
