Christa Leeann Stevens

Something I wrote for an adoptee poetry contest.

I’ve only seen and been in the ocean once

It was exhilarating

It was beautiful

But it gave me anxiety

Waves are unpredictable

They can come and go

Strong or weak

Calm or intense

And you can’t control them

Adoption and reunion are like these waves

Maybe there is a period of calmness and peace

Hope even

But when it becomes choppy and unfair,

It’s unforgiving

Unpredictable

Unfair

And possibly unaliving.

But most of all, it’s enticing

Why?

Why would anyone want to go into the ocean when it could just take us away forever?

I ponder

And ponder

It seems like it’s against human nature to take on so many unpredictabilities when all we want is stability in this life

But I keep coming back to one thing

The possibilities are endless

And maybe that’s enough to have your toes touch the salt water

Again

Remember that theme for Peyton Sawyer in One Tree Hill, “People Always Leave”? One Tree Hill is a show I hold close to my heart and have seen at least five or six times all the way through, but I never fully understood why her character meant so much to me. Yeah, I knew she was adopted like I am but it never fully clicked, that is until I came out of the fog about my adoption.

If you’re not an adoptee, you may not understand what coming out of the fog is. It basically means that you come to terms of what your adoption means and your feelings towards it. We’re told to be grateful, that we’re lucky, that we got this amazing life but, we all realize we were separated or abandoned by our biological family, RIGHT?  Whatever the circumstances were, you’re still not with the family who created you, and that kinda sucks. Even if you were technically better off being adopted. That’s trauma. It’s heartbreaking.

You miss out on so much and you’re always wondering why you feel so different. Why you don’t feel like you fit in anywhere.

And let’s be real here, Peyton Sawyer is not the only adoptee or adoption or abandonment  story in a TV show or movie. There’s so many. Bones, This Is Us, Call The Midwife, and so many more that have storylines on this. And if there’s one that specifically applies to you or you feel more connected to, I’d love to hear about it.

But Peyton’s for me hits closer to me because I see a lot of myself in her. Grew up as an only child. Blonde curly hair. Our personalities. How she copes even with grief and hardships. I see it.

Anyway, back to Peyton’s storyline. Peyton was dealing with the loss of her adoptive mother because she ran a red light and was killed. Her adoptive father had a job that required him to be away a lot. She finally meets her biological mother who eventually dies from cancer. Her biological father is a drunk. She meets her half brother. People in her life came and went and the pain of losing both mothers in her life hits differently for me now. The realization that I one day will lose both of my mothers. Even in the joy that adoption brings for the parents, it’s tragic for the child. We have to go through double the grief and heartbreak.

Our stories do differ in one area. It is that she didn’t know she was adopted growing up and finding it out when she was a teenager. Not a great time to find out. We all know being a teenager is hard. I’m fortunate that I knew my whole life. My adoptive parents did do that right. Not telling your kid they were adopted is like trying to hide a dirty secret or dirty laundry. Really not okay. We’re not here for your pride or to be a replacement child when we didn’t have a choice on who raised us or even being born.

It’s no wonder adoptees have trust and abandonment issues. And in the show, it plays out that way a lot for her. People coming and going, dying even. And yeah, most people would say that’s a part of life or maybe think it’s a little sad. But it’s a whole other level for her and me. I truly feel her pain and relate so hard. This show helped me see that.

It helps me know that I’m not alone in how I feel, even if people come and go in my life. And I have, especially during the pandemic. It’s been hard to let go of people I thought would always be in my life or maybe the possibility of entering my life. It’s hard to know that I’ll never fully develop a connection to my biological family in a way you develop family relationships over a lifetime. Maybe that’ll change or maybe it won’t. I can’t answer that, but I hope it does.

But I am trying though. Peyton did too. We had open (but protected and sometimes tough exteriors) hearts to let people in, even if they left or hurt us. We’re constantly nursing our broken hearts, hoping that someday that we can heal and move on but if only it were that easy.

But the ones who stayed are the ones who we hold so close. That’s tragic the beauty of all this pain. We can see easily who’s important to us and who’s only here for a period of time.

I have a handful of people in my life who I call my close circle. Like the quote from the movie Lilo & Stitch “This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It’s little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.”

And if you’re reading this as a friend or family member of an adoptee and you’ve stayed in their lives in a positive way and are close, know the immense amount of trust and fondness we have in you.

So if you’re an adoptee who’s just coming out of the fog, late discovery, dealing with loss, abandonment, just know you’re not crazy for feeling the way you do.

Remember:

You’re valid.

You matter.

It’s okay to be angry.

There is beauty and you’re part of that beauty.

Take a deep breath.

Hold onto the people who stay, they’re the realest.

I constantly feel like I’m floating.

Like I’m floating in an uncontrollable and inescapable state of floating in a cool breeze that’s carrying me without mercy and I’m trying to escape it and feel the warm grass underneath my feet.

Like I’m constantly in the state of not feeling grounded in self, body, mind and spirit. Almost as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

I didn’t have a choice in the way I was brought into this world, how I was raised, who I was relinquished to, and it seems that my adoptive parents won the lottery. I lost a little bit of myself in those moments of decision I had no choice over. I didn’t ask to be brought into this world or ask for strangers to care and nurture me. I grew to love them but it wasn’t the same.

Yeah, I could go on how a lot of us didn’t have choices in circumstances and maybe you relate in some way. The color of your skin and the challenges of systemic racism, the wealth gap, the world basically melting, great! Empathy is a powerful tool that brings change and a great step to understanding something maybe you don’t fully understand, like adoption. Use and embrace it.

My adoptive parents showered me in love as the typical only child adoptee, lots of pictures, but for both sides of the coin, no mirror appeared. My adoption was never a secret and that’s when I first felt like I was floating. Nothing and no one around me that looked or acted like me. I was truly floating around alone.

Yes, they loved me. They protected me as best they knew. But this feeling has never gone away. I don’t blame them and never will. And that’s okay.

I have been in constant floating for basically my whole life without consciously knowing it til I met my first mother and sister on that side. Just for a moment I felt my toe touched the ground. I saw a mirror. I felt seen for the first time. I could’ve cried but I looked emotionless. I don’t process emotions well on the spot. We had similar attributes and personality traits, it felt like I was talking to someone I’ve known my whole life even though this was only our second or third meeting but the first one I consciously remember.

And as soon as we left each other, I felt the floating again and again and again. And it’s never gonna fully go away. I get glimpses and moments of grounding now and again, when I’m around or talking to my first families, but they are fleeting. They’re never permanent.

I constantly wonder what or how different my life would’ve been if I wasn’t an outsider to my first families, if I truly belonged and was there my whole life. Trying to connect with your first family has only one comparison even though it’s not a good one, it’s like trying to befriend or integrate with in-laws. It doesn’t feel quite natural and you never feel like you fully fit in, no matter how welcoming they are. But don’t think it’s the same, because it’s not. It’s just the only thing I can think of that’s the closest comparison. Yes, I feel more connected when we talk or when we have conversations, but I know I’ll never fully be a part of the family.

I don’t wish my life to be different, because that isn’t ethical. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the experiences I’ve had. I wouldn’t have married the man who I call my best friend. I wouldn’t have the friends I have who unconditionally support me in this journey.

And most importantly, I love my adoptive parents, don’t let this be a thing that makes you think otherwise. Adoptees constantly have to remind folks that when we talk about our truth, that we still love our adoptive parents even though that really shouldn’t be a question in the first place. This is our story.

Feeling grounded was stolen from me. Circumstances and lack of choices stole it from me. I can’t rewrite the history, but what I’d absolutely kill for is to find some other way of feeling grounded and connected to my world.

I don’t know how or what it’ll take, or what my journey looks like, but I gotta have hope otherwise this all feels hopeless on top of the floating.

Dear Dad,

So today is Father’s Day. It’s a day I didn’t struggle with until I came out of the fog. I struggle with it because I feel like I now have to honor the father who raised me and you. You deserve to be honored as well as you did create me. We three have that connection that can never be unbroken whether we want the complexities or not.

Today is a day where a father gets to fully soak in the gratitude your children give you and to see the fruits of your labor in raising your kids to be good people. To fully enjoy your family. You had 5 other children who seemed to love and adore you, regardless of your struggles. I’m so happy that you got to do that with them and that they have those memories with you. You seemed to be a rad guy from what I’ve heard. I’m glad that I get to get pieces and snippets of what you were like.

I’m only sorry you didn’t have that opportunity with me. To see me when I was born. To hold me. To see me grow. Take my first steps. Say my first words. Play sports. Graduate high school and college. Get married. Meet your son-in-law who is an amazing man and loves me unconditionally.

The only story I have that you knew of my existence was when you signed away your parental rights and while you had initially denied I was yours, you did ask if you could see me. There must’ve been a part of you that knew I was yours, and I’m sorry you held on to that secret to the grave. That must’ve been hard to carry every day.

I’m sad that our souls will never meet. Will never have closure together. To have a conversation with each other. To see each other’s faces and see our similarities because I do look so much like you, everyone of your children, mother and the woman you had me with all say so. Our chin dimple is the biggest one I can think of among others from the pictures that have been shared with me.

I don’t know if there is an afterlife or if you’re still looking down on your family and the children you knew, but if there is, I hope that in some way that you’ve at least seen what I look like. I don’t know, sounds weird to say, right?

But what you have sacrificed in losing your ability to parent me, you gave the people who did raise me a chance to be parents when they couldn’t naturally. They loved me and took care of me and did the best they could. I love them dearly. They gave me a good life.

But there will always be a void in not knowing you and that’ll never go away.

I hold a place for you in my heart and I hope I did yours.