Here’s what I know… I was adopted my birth (first) mother was 17 and in high school. My biological father wanted nothing to do with her or her pregnancy. Her mother also didn’t want anything to do with it. She had a friend take her to the hospital when she went into labor. I found this out recently. Talk about a wound for my first (birth) mother. I have no idea if she even was able to see my face and all my black hair or even touch me. It breaks my heart for her and me that we might not of had that connection after she cared for me growing inside of her for 9 months. This is what is wrong with Closed Adoption click to read my blog.
This is the Primal Wound!
The definition of Primal Wound (sometimes known as primary wound) is an unresolved trauma. It has to do with the violation of attachment, the breach of that essential bond between a child and its parents. It is the betrayal of emotional needs that haven’t been met.
If you have ever been blessed to carry and have a child, could you even imagine the possibility of never holding that child or seeing them ever again? Even if you can’t care for them and want a better life that connection after birth still has to happen for the adoptee.
We have a right to know who we are, where they came from, the story of our ancestors.
Think if you didn’t know the story of your family or of your ancestors. This is what happens in closed adoption, this is the trauma, the abandonment, the loss of self that an adoptee carries for their life.
After I was born, I was put in foster care of some kind for 2 months before I was adopted by my mother and father. They had tried for 7 years to get pregnant as my mother really wanted a baby. Then there was me. I was recently told by my mother’s best friend that it was like Christmas, Easter and New Year’s. Every Holiday all rolled into my coming home with them. That has brought me such joy to hear that.
My mom so loved me. I am working on writing about her now as a loving dedication to her. The title called Lynda look for it soon.
My father left her when I was under 2 for another women who he married shortly after. I saw my dad but never really had a connection with him. I think he was doing what he was supposed to do but never really wanted to be a father. I think my mom was lost. She had lost her twin brother a few years before I was born and then my father leaving her was too much, so she started looking for something. Unfortunately (maybe or maybe not) she found Scientology. We are all on our own path to find our way. She was on hers so as much as I wish I had a normal conventual family upbringing the choices she made exposed me to so many different things.
If you really think about it what is a normal upbringing?
Does it have to be a mother and father living in a house with 2.5 children? Once again fairy tales and “they lived happily ever after” wow what a bunch of BS. As much as I love those stories it creates such a false narrative especially for girls. If we are looking to ban books maybe, we should look at them first? Maybe that’s another blog?
When I was six, she sold everything I mean everything including our house and we moved out of state to a commune sort of place for Scientology. She went there with a friend that she had met at the Center who was also divorced 10 years older than her, and he had two children older than me. He became my stepfather years later after they fled.
We lived there for about three years before we fled in the night with just clothes because everything that was promised to her never came to fruition. We went to my grandparents as we had nothing and no money it had all been given to Scientology. She and her boyfriend who was to become my stepfather later, lived in a trailer on their property. I lived with my aunt for a few months while they try to get on their feet eventually moved in into a small rental home in the same town as my grandparents. During that time, I bounced around to a few different schools before we settled in. In the time I was in the “commune” I didn’t get much schooling, so I was very behind. I can remember having to get special “teacher time” to get me back on track.
I was always loved, I was always cared for, but I always felt something was missing. But also stuffed it down as how could I be so ungrateful. I now know it was a primal wound from birth. I have been on a journey for some time now to fill the hole and discover Who I Am, Where I came from, and Heal the Wound.
My website, blog, and the children’s book I am working on writing are all part of my journey to find myself, heal my wound, connect and heal other people.
Thank you for taking the time and also making the time to read and hopefully learn. If you feel someone could benefit from anything I write I encourage you to share, share my website, share a blog story, re-post and/or connect with me.
We are all on our own journey after all.
Wishing you love, peace, and joy
Xoxo
Megan