Relationship Struggles

I’ve always said that I’m bad at relationships. In fact, I even started a blog post last week with “I’m bad at relationships” as the opening statement. It’s still sitting somewhere in draft form.

I’ve been mulling over that idea for the past week. It’s one of those ideas that tends to float around in the back of my mind quite often, but it’s been closer to the forefront lately.

I think my adoption has a lot to do with the way that I relate and interact with people. I was watching a show earlier this week that has a strong adoption theme interwoven into the plot, and I think it’s the most fascinating part of the story. It shows the strong desire to connect with family and loved ones, but the hesitancy to really get close and let people in.

This has been my main issue: the struggle between trusting others with the most vulnerable parts of me and trying to acknowledge that there isn’t something inherently wrong that people will somehow discover, then choosing to no longer invest any time in a friendship. It’s something I’ve discovered a lot of adoptees struggle with to some degree. I think it has to do with having the knowledge that somewhere out in the world, there is someone who didn’t want you enough to keep you.

I know there are extenuating circumstances to almost every adoption. I know that in many cases, giving a child up for adoption is the most painful and selfless thing that a mother could ever choose to do. I know that it’s probably not fair to blame attachment and trust issues on a mother who was only trying to make sure her child was given all the opportunities possible. However, knowing these things doesn’t always heal the pain. It doesn’t erase the struggle that I’ll most likely fight for most, if not all, of my life.

I can’t speak for adoptees as a whole, but I know that for me, my relationships have struggled because of my pain connected to my adoption. My adoption story isn’t really one of abuse or despair. I was put up for adoption because my mother was a selfless woman who couldn’t provide what she wanted for me as a single mom, and I think that’s an incredibly brave act. But I see girls who were younger than she was working and fighting every day to give their children every opportunity possible. I see these ladies doing everything in their power because they want to take care of their kids. I see all of this and wonder why my mom wasn’t the same.

Rationally, I know the hurt doesn’t really make sense. I know that my life would have probably been even more difficult. But being given up leaves an emotional scar on your very soul. It’s part of your identity whether you want it to be or not. And unfortunately, it seeps into other aspects of life. If a woman who spent nine months carrying you and essentially nurturing you doesn’t want to continue doing that, how can friends or even a romantic interest think that you’re worth the work and energy for a serious relationship?

So when I say I’m bad at relationships, I think I mostly mean that I’m bad at trusting relationships. No matter how wonderful my friendships are, there’s a tiny voice in the back of my head that whispers that I can’t possibly be worth it for the long haul. Instead of facing the core issue head on, I’ve always tended to just end a lot of my relationships, with friends and otherwise, before they get too close or too involved. My incorrect rationality has always been this: “if I’m not worth keeping around anyway, I might as well end it sooner to avoid as many hurt feelings.”

It’s stupid and ridiculous and probably shouldn’t even be an issue, but your past and experiences can do a lot to effect your subconscious. They don’t have to control it as long as you’re aware of them, so I suppose that’s what this post is supposed to accomplish: acknowledging the issue with the intent to be more aware of it and hopefully more willing to try and change.

Eiserner Steg, Frankfurt, Germany - September 2014
Eiserner Steg, Frankfurt, Germany – September 2014

listening to: The Kooks

Past, Present, Future

I’ve come to the realization that I live far too much in the past. Being nervous about talking to people I went to high school with because we weren’t exactly friends, thinking that an attachment to an ex existed because it always felt like unfinished business between the two of us…I think that’s a major cause for a ton of my mistakes lately.

They say that living too much in the past can be a contributor to depression, just like living too much in the future can enhance any anxiety issues. Living in the present, in the now, is the healthiest way to live. As much as I want to try and do that, I catch myself reverting to the past time and time again.

I have made progress though. It finally hit me this weekend how much I focus on things that have happened in the past without being in the moment and enjoying the good things that have been happening to me lately. This was a polite kind of slap to the face how I need to be more present and do things for myself.

I’ve been lamenting my current life situation and generally just throwing myself a pity party. I’m tired of it. Truthfully, I’ve got it pretty good at the moment. I have no obligations or responsibilities due other people, and all I really have to worry about right now is playing financial catch-up from the past few years. I am literally surrounded by supportive people everywhere I turn, and I feel at peace.

This is a good time. A good season. I can focus and work on things in the now without having to worry too much about how it’ll effect my future. I can learn to live a simpler, more rewarding life. I can continue the mental and emotional growth that started in Germany, even though I really want to be stubborn and insist change needs to happen while living where my heart wants to go. All of this truly is a mindset, at the risk of sounding too cheesy or dippy.

Living in the present is my goal. It’s been my goal for a while, but it needs to be made more of priority. As always, making my goals public force me to actually work on them because it gives me something to prove. Maybe that’s a fault of mine, but at least it gets things done.

Frankfurt, Germany- September 2014
Frankfurt, Germany- September 2014

listening to: Damien Rice

A Response

It’s come to my attention that my writing on this blog may not always be the most cheerful. It’s not my intention to write posts that sadden people or make them feel that I’m lost. I don’t feel sorry for myself, and I certainly don’t expect others to feel that way either.

I know my writing style is much different than it was a year or two ago when I was writing on my other blog. It’s hard to believe that I entered into the world of blogging almost two and a half years ago. When I look back at all of that time, I know that I wasn’t being completely honest with myself or others in my writing. When I did write about topics that truly interested me or moved me, I worried about them for ages before ever hitting “publish”. Most of the time, the things I wrote didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of my character. They focused on the material, the superficial, and the emptiness that my life was mostly about.

With major life changes comes major growth. I’m not using this blog for any other purpose than to practice my writing and hopefully inspire some people along the way. I write about the thoughts going through my mind like the one yesterday because I know that I’m not the only person that feels that way after making initial contact with biological family members.

I want to be relatable. I don’t want to act like I have my life together because I absolutely do not. I don’t want to portray that life is all sunshines and rainbows, because I believe there’s also a strange sort of beauty in the melancholy times. Being human means experiencing ups and downs, and my favorite part of relationships is the ability to relate to others in those ups and downs.

This blog is meant to be a chronicling of my thoughts and the progress I’m continually making in healing and learning more about myself. Yes, there are still some fluff pieces every now and then, because they can be enjoyable to write if the mood strikes, but I’ve always enjoyed deep discussions more than small talk and I’d like to think my writing reflects that. Even the title of this blog is a word play on that move from the part of my life where I felt so lost to where I am now, content in who I’m becoming and excited to be able to open up about my struggles if there’s a chance my stories can help others in similar situations.

Temple of the Mount, Jerusalem, Israel- March 2014
Temple of the Mount, Jerusalem, Israel- March 2014

listening to: Aqualung