My column in the paper helped me connect to several adoptees in my town which is awesome. I'm starting to consider the support group but no idea how to even start. Any suggestions would be welcome.
I just wanted to mention I in now way don't get that people are angry or think they shouldn't be. It just surprised me is all and I know everyone deals with things their own way. I just felt kinda odd at first that I didn't have this overwhelming anger. I was sad, confused, lost, shocked, etc. But I was also lucky and given to a decent family.
I almost think it was better I didn't know as a teen. I was a horrible teenager as it was and any reason to rebel more would have been bad. Getting pregnant with my son at 19 saved me.
I wondered today if my weight problems are associated. I mean, not trying to make excuses. I know most is my bad habits but I do know genetics play a part. But I also wonder about these claims that adopted children know deep down inside that something is missing and try to fill that void. While I didn't know I was adopted, I always felt different. I always suspected I was because of that difference. I always felt odd. And still do most days. Like I never really completely belong.
So maybe talking to others will help further sort all this out. I hope so.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Column that ran in the paper
Being chosen simply means two mothers loved me
By Alyssa Schnugg
Staff Writer
Recently I wrote a column about how my name is pronounced several ways and how it didn’t really matter because I am me, no matter what people call me.
It was just a week later when I received news that made me question who I really was after all.
At 45 years old, I found out I was adopted.
Since both of my parents are now gone, an old friend of my father’s felt it was time I knew because my parents insisted that everyone who knew their secret to never, ever tell me. Even my own siblings who are 11 and 7 years my senior — and were well aware I did not come into our family the “usual” way — held it in for 45 years. You’d assume that, during some sibling spat, one of them would have let it slip out of anger. But nope. Not a peep. They were terribly mad at my father’s friend as they had planned to tell me the next time we could all be together.
For several days, I ran a gamut of emotions from shock to denial to a complete feeling of being lost. Friends and family offered words of comfort like “Be grateful you were chosen!” At the time it made me angry. Everything I knew was a lie. I grew up thinking I was Jewish of Russian decent. Now? No clue. I grew up thinking I had my mother’s shoulders and my father’s fingernail biting habit. Everything became unknown. For all I knew, my birthday really wasn’t my birthday.
My own children took it stride. Their grandparents were their grandparents and that was the end of the story. But they were a bit used to this since their father was also adopted which he had always known.
I told a friend one day I felt like a rose with all the good and bad of a person that had been snipped off its bush and tossed into a vase, with no roots.
She told me I was a hybrid and that I am the creation of two different plants whose vines intertwined and made me the person I am today. I knew it may not make scientific sense but somehow it did make me feel better.
As days passed, my head came out of the shock cloud and I started to process things a bit more. I knew my parents loved me and they never treated me differently than my siblings. I know my brother and sister love me. I can recall a day when I was about 5 years old and they got into an awful fight over who I was going to play with and I picked up the phone and called the operator (remember those?) and asked to talk to my “mommy.” They doted on me, always.
Dismayed there were no local support groups for adoptees, I started to read and register on forums for adult adoptees. I was amazed at the anger I read in so many posts. They were angry at their birth mothers, angry at their adoptive parents, angry at the world. I was told I should be angry with my parents for not telling me. That I should be angry at the selfish woman who gave me up.
Hard as I tried, I could not find that anger. My parents are gone; what good would it do me to be angry with them? Should I have been told sooner? I believe so. But I know my mother, and I know she did it as a way to protect me so that I never felt like I wasn’t hers.
When all is said and done, I am still just Alyssa. I am my experiences and past and formed from the love my parents chose to give a baby girl who’s own mother couldn’t provide those things.
It’s been about three weeks and I can now say, I am grateful I was chosen. I still get moments of feeling lost and probably always will as I continue to process all of this.
I started a blog which helps me do just that and also with hopes of connecting with other adult adoptees who like myself, found out they were “chosen” later in life.
Feel free to email me if you are in a similar situation and interested in helping start up a support group here in Oxford.
—alyssa@oxfordeagle.com
By Alyssa Schnugg
Staff Writer
Recently I wrote a column about how my name is pronounced several ways and how it didn’t really matter because I am me, no matter what people call me.
It was just a week later when I received news that made me question who I really was after all.
At 45 years old, I found out I was adopted.
Since both of my parents are now gone, an old friend of my father’s felt it was time I knew because my parents insisted that everyone who knew their secret to never, ever tell me. Even my own siblings who are 11 and 7 years my senior — and were well aware I did not come into our family the “usual” way — held it in for 45 years. You’d assume that, during some sibling spat, one of them would have let it slip out of anger. But nope. Not a peep. They were terribly mad at my father’s friend as they had planned to tell me the next time we could all be together.
For several days, I ran a gamut of emotions from shock to denial to a complete feeling of being lost. Friends and family offered words of comfort like “Be grateful you were chosen!” At the time it made me angry. Everything I knew was a lie. I grew up thinking I was Jewish of Russian decent. Now? No clue. I grew up thinking I had my mother’s shoulders and my father’s fingernail biting habit. Everything became unknown. For all I knew, my birthday really wasn’t my birthday.
My own children took it stride. Their grandparents were their grandparents and that was the end of the story. But they were a bit used to this since their father was also adopted which he had always known.
I told a friend one day I felt like a rose with all the good and bad of a person that had been snipped off its bush and tossed into a vase, with no roots.
She told me I was a hybrid and that I am the creation of two different plants whose vines intertwined and made me the person I am today. I knew it may not make scientific sense but somehow it did make me feel better.
As days passed, my head came out of the shock cloud and I started to process things a bit more. I knew my parents loved me and they never treated me differently than my siblings. I know my brother and sister love me. I can recall a day when I was about 5 years old and they got into an awful fight over who I was going to play with and I picked up the phone and called the operator (remember those?) and asked to talk to my “mommy.” They doted on me, always.
Dismayed there were no local support groups for adoptees, I started to read and register on forums for adult adoptees. I was amazed at the anger I read in so many posts. They were angry at their birth mothers, angry at their adoptive parents, angry at the world. I was told I should be angry with my parents for not telling me. That I should be angry at the selfish woman who gave me up.
Hard as I tried, I could not find that anger. My parents are gone; what good would it do me to be angry with them? Should I have been told sooner? I believe so. But I know my mother, and I know she did it as a way to protect me so that I never felt like I wasn’t hers.
When all is said and done, I am still just Alyssa. I am my experiences and past and formed from the love my parents chose to give a baby girl who’s own mother couldn’t provide those things.
It’s been about three weeks and I can now say, I am grateful I was chosen. I still get moments of feeling lost and probably always will as I continue to process all of this.
I started a blog which helps me do just that and also with hopes of connecting with other adult adoptees who like myself, found out they were “chosen” later in life.
Feel free to email me if you are in a similar situation and interested in helping start up a support group here in Oxford.
—alyssa@oxfordeagle.com
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
How did I know?
My brother and sister asked me last night how did I know I was adopted?
Ever since I can remember, I always suspected I was adopted. They remember me asking about it several times as a child and an adult. They said it was so hard to not answer me truthfully when I'd ask but they swore to our mother.
I don't know really. I knew I didn't really look like anyone. My brother was 11 yrs older then me and my sister was 7 yrs older so I wondered by the large gap. My mother would have been 37 and in the 60s, that wasn't all that common. My birth certificate said I was born in Penn. when we lived in Jersey but that was explained away as an afternoon trip when she went into labor. Although, I thought it was funny after 3 kids she wouldn't have recognized the signs of labor and head home since it was only about 2 hours away.
There were times I just felt different. I remember feeling my mother loved my sister more. She seemed prouder of her accomplishments. But a lot of that could be normal sibling stuff. I can't say they really treated me any differently. I just knew...and I don't know how.
I've read some stuff about babies searching for their mother's after birth and if they can't find them it upsets them and they are aware of it. I don't know how much all of that is true but, I did not have any factual reason to suspect, like a suspicious letter or anything. No one slipped up and said anything, ever. No one treated me differently. I just knew, somehow.
I'd like to learn more about that I think so back to researching!
Ever since I can remember, I always suspected I was adopted. They remember me asking about it several times as a child and an adult. They said it was so hard to not answer me truthfully when I'd ask but they swore to our mother.
I don't know really. I knew I didn't really look like anyone. My brother was 11 yrs older then me and my sister was 7 yrs older so I wondered by the large gap. My mother would have been 37 and in the 60s, that wasn't all that common. My birth certificate said I was born in Penn. when we lived in Jersey but that was explained away as an afternoon trip when she went into labor. Although, I thought it was funny after 3 kids she wouldn't have recognized the signs of labor and head home since it was only about 2 hours away.
There were times I just felt different. I remember feeling my mother loved my sister more. She seemed prouder of her accomplishments. But a lot of that could be normal sibling stuff. I can't say they really treated me any differently. I just knew...and I don't know how.
I've read some stuff about babies searching for their mother's after birth and if they can't find them it upsets them and they are aware of it. I don't know how much all of that is true but, I did not have any factual reason to suspect, like a suspicious letter or anything. No one slipped up and said anything, ever. No one treated me differently. I just knew, somehow.
I'd like to learn more about that I think so back to researching!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Medical stuff
This cold turned into bronchial pnemonia, however it's spelled and was really sick there for a few days. Went to ER eventually. Got some shots, meds and I'm feeling a bit better today.
It got me thinking though..What happens when I go to my family doctor now? Do I tell him, "Oh yeah by the way, everything in the file that says about family medical history, just erase that." ?
I guess I have to. I know I really don't like it. Whenever something like that comes up in my head it reminds me again of what's going on and I'd rather not think about it so it irks me. I've obviously went into the denial mode of my grief.
What's weird though, is that I'm so much like my parents in weird ways, even medically. I have diabetes like my mom and get lots of bronchitis like she did. She wasn't a smoker though but she did live with one most of her life. We both have terrible circulation and I even have her lack of shoulders. Maybe they're wrong. Maybe this is some kind of a cruel joke.
Maybe I need to go back to not thinking about this right now...
It got me thinking though..What happens when I go to my family doctor now? Do I tell him, "Oh yeah by the way, everything in the file that says about family medical history, just erase that." ?
I guess I have to. I know I really don't like it. Whenever something like that comes up in my head it reminds me again of what's going on and I'd rather not think about it so it irks me. I've obviously went into the denial mode of my grief.
What's weird though, is that I'm so much like my parents in weird ways, even medically. I have diabetes like my mom and get lots of bronchitis like she did. She wasn't a smoker though but she did live with one most of her life. We both have terrible circulation and I even have her lack of shoulders. Maybe they're wrong. Maybe this is some kind of a cruel joke.
Maybe I need to go back to not thinking about this right now...
Friday, July 5, 2013
Him
I don't know if I'm healing, accepting or have gone into my typical mode of pushing things aside but I've felt better the last couple days. Not good though, because I'm sick as a dog thanks to my adorable grandbaby who got me sick. So maybe I just don't have the mental strength to deal with this along with getting better.
Last night, I felt awful and couldn't sleep. The cold is in my chest and it was hard to breath. As I laid there, I thought about my A-mother and her death and how horrible it was and wondered if she has been awake more if she would have broken down and told me but I doubt it. My heart started to pound and I quickly pushed those thoughts away or I'd never get to sleep.
I then thought about my B-father, whomever he may be. So many people want to find their b-mother but seldom do you hear much about the father. Did he know about me? Do I favor him? Was he nice or a shit?
I'm a curious person by nature. I have to touch everything and ask a gazzilion questions. It's probably why I'm a reporter. So this is just driving me nuts, all this not knowing stuff. I know, being somewhat wize by now, that often you never find the answers you want so I'll probably find out things I don't want to know and generally I'm sorry for being so nosey most of the time. It's much easier and nicer at times to live in a fantasy world.
But there's something inside me that won't ever left me just do that, just be happy with my thoughts and ideals. I have to KNOW everything. I wish I could just believe things, like the song I posted a few days ago.
I day dreamed a bit about meeting my b-parents. Of course, it was a nice reunion and it let me eventually fall asleep, at least for a bit.
I'm not even sure how to start the process of looking or even if there's a point to. I don't have money to spend. My uncle, the one who told me I was adopted, has offered to help as he helped his own daughter find her B-mother. But he's 83 and not well.
I guess we'll just see what happens.
Last night, I felt awful and couldn't sleep. The cold is in my chest and it was hard to breath. As I laid there, I thought about my A-mother and her death and how horrible it was and wondered if she has been awake more if she would have broken down and told me but I doubt it. My heart started to pound and I quickly pushed those thoughts away or I'd never get to sleep.
I then thought about my B-father, whomever he may be. So many people want to find their b-mother but seldom do you hear much about the father. Did he know about me? Do I favor him? Was he nice or a shit?
I'm a curious person by nature. I have to touch everything and ask a gazzilion questions. It's probably why I'm a reporter. So this is just driving me nuts, all this not knowing stuff. I know, being somewhat wize by now, that often you never find the answers you want so I'll probably find out things I don't want to know and generally I'm sorry for being so nosey most of the time. It's much easier and nicer at times to live in a fantasy world.
But there's something inside me that won't ever left me just do that, just be happy with my thoughts and ideals. I have to KNOW everything. I wish I could just believe things, like the song I posted a few days ago.
I day dreamed a bit about meeting my b-parents. Of course, it was a nice reunion and it let me eventually fall asleep, at least for a bit.
I'm not even sure how to start the process of looking or even if there's a point to. I don't have money to spend. My uncle, the one who told me I was adopted, has offered to help as he helped his own daughter find her B-mother. But he's 83 and not well.
I guess we'll just see what happens.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Anger
Been
reading a lot of forums for adoptees and wow, so many are sooooo angry.
Angry at adoptive parents, angry at birth mothers. I almost feel weird
because I'm not angry. A little lost, confused and shocked but not
angry. But I was lucky and was raised by parents who loved me and cared
for me so how can I be angry at them? Even their act of not telling me I
think was because they loved me, even if I disagree with their
decision. Besides, what's the point of walking around angry all the time
for something you can't change?
I can't be mad at my b-mother for giving me up. I'm sure whatever the reason it was the right decision. Whether it was because she couldn't take care of me or didn't want to take care me, either way, my a-parents did and so I'm sure I fared better with them.
Also giving birth to three of my own children, I cannot imagine how hard that is to give up your child, unless you're a complete cold hearted bitch and then again..I'm better off.
I can't yell at my parents for not telling me, so why bother being angry? I've thought about it in the last 24 hours and really dug deep to see if there's regressed anger there, like I should be angry or something and nope..can't really find it. Not today anyway. Perhaps that will change. Right now, I only miss them and wish I could ask them why and tell my mother that I love her and wouldn't have mattered if I knew while she was alive. She lived her whole life in fear I'd know and leave her. I can't be mad at her. I loved her and I miss her terribly. And my father always did what my mother wanted. He lived to please her. So I understand his loyalty to her.
Some people are born into horrible situations or even adopted into them. Not saying my childhood was perfect nor were my parents. My father was violent at times when I was younger because he suffered with his own demons and I forgave him for it long ago as I grew up and learned about life more. My mother loved to put me on guilt trips and wasn't always the most overly mushy person. But I know she loved me. My parents didn't divorce. They were joined at the hip and while sometimes a bit disfunctional, compared to other families, I had it pretty good.
My journey is about finding out who I am. What it may or may not matter being adopted and if it changes me at all. It's about accepting something I can't change and learning not to lament about it. I got mad when someone said "this could be a great adventure." But today, I'm not mad. And think maybe it could be.
I can't be mad at my b-mother for giving me up. I'm sure whatever the reason it was the right decision. Whether it was because she couldn't take care of me or didn't want to take care me, either way, my a-parents did and so I'm sure I fared better with them.
Also giving birth to three of my own children, I cannot imagine how hard that is to give up your child, unless you're a complete cold hearted bitch and then again..I'm better off.
I can't yell at my parents for not telling me, so why bother being angry? I've thought about it in the last 24 hours and really dug deep to see if there's regressed anger there, like I should be angry or something and nope..can't really find it. Not today anyway. Perhaps that will change. Right now, I only miss them and wish I could ask them why and tell my mother that I love her and wouldn't have mattered if I knew while she was alive. She lived her whole life in fear I'd know and leave her. I can't be mad at her. I loved her and I miss her terribly. And my father always did what my mother wanted. He lived to please her. So I understand his loyalty to her.
Some people are born into horrible situations or even adopted into them. Not saying my childhood was perfect nor were my parents. My father was violent at times when I was younger because he suffered with his own demons and I forgave him for it long ago as I grew up and learned about life more. My mother loved to put me on guilt trips and wasn't always the most overly mushy person. But I know she loved me. My parents didn't divorce. They were joined at the hip and while sometimes a bit disfunctional, compared to other families, I had it pretty good.
My journey is about finding out who I am. What it may or may not matter being adopted and if it changes me at all. It's about accepting something I can't change and learning not to lament about it. I got mad when someone said "this could be a great adventure." But today, I'm not mad. And think maybe it could be.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Support group
I need to find a support group. I need to talk to others like me..adults, who learned about their adoption halfway into their lives. We seem to be a rare breed. I can't find much online. But honestly, I spend about 15 minutes researching and looking and then I'm overwhelmed and I stop. I understand it's still very soon so I'm not being hard on myself.
But NOONE understands. I try to explain how I feel and I get a nod maybe. I've had a few people say "Dude I can't even begin to understand." And I honestly appreciate that statement.
I find myself getting angry at people now. Before it was just aggravating..but if I hear how "cool" this is or how it's a wonderful "adventure" one more time I'm going to tweak. Why does it seem I am the only one who thinks having everything you've known flipped upside down not an easy thing to deal with?
I'm a pretty strong person. So I'm told. And have been through all kinds of things in my life. And I bounce back. And I keep going. Mostly because of my three children who are my heart and soul, along with their own children now. So maybe people just expect it from me. And in a year from now, I may look back and think..well that was a lot of suffering for nothing..and be fine with it all.
I think a support group would be great. I may have to start one though. Hmmm...
But NOONE understands. I try to explain how I feel and I get a nod maybe. I've had a few people say "Dude I can't even begin to understand." And I honestly appreciate that statement.
I find myself getting angry at people now. Before it was just aggravating..but if I hear how "cool" this is or how it's a wonderful "adventure" one more time I'm going to tweak. Why does it seem I am the only one who thinks having everything you've known flipped upside down not an easy thing to deal with?
I'm a pretty strong person. So I'm told. And have been through all kinds of things in my life. And I bounce back. And I keep going. Mostly because of my three children who are my heart and soul, along with their own children now. So maybe people just expect it from me. And in a year from now, I may look back and think..well that was a lot of suffering for nothing..and be fine with it all.
I think a support group would be great. I may have to start one though. Hmmm...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)