The Invisible Wall of Silence

I feel the creaks and groans emanating from my weary soul.
I suffer the pain from cracks and fissures running through my heart.
Persistent efforts to scale the wall have failed.
Scars I wear on the inside no one can see or understand.
Days of retreat I've spent licking and healing my emotional wounds.

Only to emerge to face the wall again.
An infinite insurmountable wall.

A timeless, everlasting, never ending, barrier.

The barricade that remains intact to keep me away.

And always at a distance from people, and faces, and voices, and truth.

There is an invisible wall that exists in my life that no one can see but me.  It keeps me isolated and alone in ways that can  never be easily explained to anyone.  It's nothing most people could comprehend.   I've attempted to get over it, around it, through it, and under it.  Its monumental dimensions reach back through time and into the future.  The gravitational pull it has on me if only emotionally is far too strong for me to escape.  Resistance is futile, I learned that the hard way.

I fall into the category of adoptees who are rejected by two families.  Some will say "Well, you have your children."  No, not really.  Children are not meant to exist to fulfill a parent's needs.  We as adoptees have witnessed that all too much in adoption.   I want my children to live as free as they can of parental expectations, obligations, and strings, to have what I did not have growing up.  The right to be who and what they are.

Friends are a wonderful component in life to combat the vast loneliness the absence of "family" leaves you.  But, it does not replace it.  It never will, it simply can't.  I would be at a loss without my friendships for sure, but I will always always be at a loss for family.  I say this as no disrespect to my friends.  They know, they see, and they understand.  So do other adoptees.
 

I've spent the past decades attempting to resolve issues I have with rejection, abandonment, loss, and trauma from adoption. It is not anything that can be left in the past or gotten over.  And in fact, if you try, the denial will and can nearly destroy you.  Adoption pain when shoved down and repressed will eventually emerge into the open in some way rearing it's ugly head when you, and those around you, least expect it.

I write to cope.  I write to release.  I write to document the life that I "inherited" because of adoption.  It is a story worth telling.  It is not just my story, but the story of many.

“But silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words. Without them they grown pale, sicken and die. And then they haunt you.” ~Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale