My story…

I was adopted shortly after birth. I was raised by good people who fully intended to love and nourish their children. I have excelled as an adult. I believed everything was normal. After all, normal IS what you know. All was good. Until it wasn’t. I share my story, below, so that someone who was in a similar situation will recognize themselves, and take a chance on themselves to live a happy, joyous life. I would be honored to guide your way!

I was raised by an alcoholic mother, and a father liked to throw back a few beers too. Our family began dissolving when I was very young. I have vivid memories of “acting” like the hostess when good friends of my parents stopped by for an unannounced visit. Mom hung out in the kitchen. I made excuses for her. My dad made excuses. They knew…

My dad started sleeping on the couch when I was very young. Later I recognized that this was likely so that my mother could drink herself to sleep every night.

Mom got sick, and had to show me how to “take care” of the house. I learned how to do laundry, cook, grocery shop, and clean the house. I was probably 13, so old enough that I had been doing most of those things anyway. But this was different, mom had to “go away” for a while. Two weeks later, she returned. I never knew why, but did know that things were tense.

I was 14 when my Dad finally left. My little sister went with him. My brother had moved out the day he turned 18, I guess I stayed to take care of mom.

On my 15th birthday my parent's’ divorce was finalized. I had to go before a judge and tell him who I wanted to live with. I told him I would stay with my mom.

Three months later, in May of ‘81, I was running late for school because I had to clean up my mom’s vomit. I almost vomited as it was black. I later learned that was from internal bleeding. I screamed at her as I ran out the door. “I hate you! You are always sick!”. Turns out those were my last words to her. I found her dead when I got home from school.

Most people probably think that after the shock and grief subside, things slowly return to normal. From the outside, it probably appeared that way. I went on to become my high school class valedictorian while working at two jobs while in high school. I left for college as a first generation student. Didn’t stop at the bachelors degree, instead earned a Ph.D. in Psychology. Had my daughter out of wedlock, while in graduate school, and then married her father. We are coming up on our 32nd wedding anniversary. I hasn’t been all roses, but I do love him. Breaking the pattern of co-dependency has been difficult - something I had to work on with a few different family members.

Oh, did I forget to tell you that after my adoptive mother died , and shortly after my daughter was born (1993) I met my birth mother? So very stressful, I was certain that I wasn’t good enough. As it turns out, I wasn’t good enough to fix her brokenness. She died from alcoholism in 2012. Her celebration of life was on the anniversary of my adoptive mother’s death.

You see, while everything may have appeared to be normal, it wasn’t. I was broken. So very broken depite looking like I had life by the reins! I didn’t know how or why until I started some hard core therapy. The long term damage caused from being raised by an emotionally unavailable mother contaminated every fiber of my being. But again, I thought it was normal. I developed the classic symptoms of adult daughters of alcoholic mothers. I was the care-taker, the fixer, the control freak, the perfectionist. I did not love myself, and looked for love in all the wrong places. I thought I was unlovable. I had no sense of self-worth. I didn’t feel emotion, but was filled with empathy for others.

As I eventually learned to put the broken puzzle together, my behavior made sense. It was highly FUNCTIONAL when I was a child. It WAS NOT FUNCTIONAL as an adult, a wife, a mother, and a professional climbing the career ladder. You can only fake it for so long, and then things start crumbling. I had to learn how to BELIEVE that I was worthy, to BELIEVE that I was lovable, to BELIEVE that I was not an imposter. I had to learn to let go of control, take care of myself (rather than everyone else), and actually FEEL emotion. Do you know how many words exist to describe subtle differences in emotion? TONS! I never allowed myself to feel it, so I had to first learn to IDENTIFY and LABEL my emotions. Wow, like starting over as a child.

Now I am ALMOST healed. I think I will always be ALMOST healed, as I still find random puzzle pieces here and there. I am honored to tell my story, to be completely vulnerable, as that is part of my healing process. I find it also helps others heal as well. If I can help just ONE person to recognized themselves in my story, and begin down the path of healing, then my vulnerability is worth it! If you recognize yourself in any of this, please reach out. I promise you don’t have to continue living the way that you learned to live.