#serioustopics

There were times where on this particular topic I used to pity myself. I loved the idea of crying about it. I apparently feel crying makes me feel way better. Still do. Nothing wrong with that?

So this one day I was on a vacation and late at night on the bed, my mother decided to tell me I was adopted. Before that she said she wanted to say something but she hoped it wouldn’t make me feel bad. So when she told me that, I felt the knot in my stomach becoming tighter because I always wished for that rumour to be a vicious lie.

I was in 5th grade when my mum told me that. I knew about it before she even told me cause my friends made fun of me. They accused me of not looking the same as them. Why were they old? Why don’t you look like them? Why are you dark skinned when your parents aren’t? Why aren’t you tall like them? These were the questions I faced as a 5th grader. One of my so called friend went on to tell me that my mother had told her mother that I was adopted. I didn’t wanna believe it ever. I felt it was one of those dreaded thoughts. It felt like a movie to me. One of those sad movies where parents adopt poor kids.

I was a complete mess when my mum finally told it to me from her own mouth. I said I was fine, I turned to the other side, trying not to cry but was sniffling anyway. I wondered who my birth parents were. I understood at that age every family had problems. No one was perfect but I didn’t wanna be adopted. I just didn’t. I cried so much that night but just silently. I kept wondering why me. Just why me? What did I do so wrong in my previous life that I was denied of my birth mother and father.

I learned few things about my birth mother in the later years. Her name was Mona. I was born in Kolkata and my adoptive mum couldn’t conceive. She kept having miscarriages, one after the other. She was 33 when she adopted me and my father 39. I was just few days old when they took me which I’m kinda glad about since I didn’t want to remember any of it. They were already above the acceptable age of the society to adopt. My mum told me my birth mother told her to take care of me and now she didn’t know where they were. I didn’t think I wanted to know. I still don’t. I just know her first name.

I understood when I was a kid, I never got along with my mum. It was the way i was wired. Never. I could not hug her, kiss her, show it off that I love her. She used to be sad and complain I never loved her. Even if I loved her at one point, I couldn’t say it. Maybe it was ego but otherwise it was just the way I am. When she got mad at me, she used to say all the hurtful things and all of them were on the topic of adopting me. She was on pills. She still is. She gets into some moods where she doesn’t know what she says and hurts others but later on realises and apologises. I used to feel terrible as a kid to have such a mother. Luckily my dad never took out the topic of adoption before. He loves me unconditionally. My mum had (still does) a problem in her brain so she wasn’t very normal as others. She was physically great. Just a little cuckoo above. I felt bad at times but a child had their limits. Yes, I sound selfish but that’s all I was allowed to be as a kid. My dad used to console me by just saying, “you know she has a problem right? Don’t take it to heart”. How the hell am I not supposed to take it to heart? She doesn’t know anything about me, she doesn’t know my favourite food, my colour, my choices, she didn’t know anything much at all. She never tried. I didn’t blame her but I know inside I wish she was just like everyone else’s mother who knew everything about their kids. I wished she was never crazy and said crazy things to me.

I’m 21 now and she still uses those angry adoption lines on me when she’s pissed. Things like why did I adopt you? Thank god I’m not your real mother. Your real one left you but I took you. These used to hurt me years back. I’m still a weakling but I know it doesn’t matter now. So what I’m adopted? I was glad I wasn’t like my adoptive mother. I didn’t want to be anything close to her. I know its not her fault but I was small to know. She didn’t explain it to me in a way parents usually make their kids sit down and listen to such things. She just blurted it out when I was around 10 years old and about to sleep. All those hurtful things got me used to them and I got over it over the years. I used to thank god I wasn’t like her. Yes, she loved me, she took care of me, nurtured me and all that. But who I am as a person now, isn’t her work. I did it on my own. She did what she had to as a mother. Make food, iron my clothes, comb my hair but my personality was all on my own. I made it a point that I never wanted to learn anything much from her. She has a kind heart but I never signed up to listening to hurtful things. She used to apologise later and say sorry I love you but I got wired that way and it was too damned late. I grew up pretty rebellious cause my dad was really strict even though he loved me, there were 100’s of things I couldn’t do. My mum understands me a little more now and I’m glad she does but again there are those days I can’t stand her presence.