Beneath the placid surface lies the unquenchable quest for answers arise.
Lines of truth in vain I trace to fill the void and empty space.
They thought the quest to find would die that determination could not survive.
For connections severed and erased to a life uprooted and displaced.
My desperate soul in sorrow cried as I give the puzzle one more try.
Collecting fragments left in place.
Searching for pieces of my face.
The title was intended to repeat the term real since it's so elusive to me in my life adopted that I felt the need to emphasize it. Being adopted the term “real” is one adoptees can struggle with constantly. Being adopted brings with it a questioning of the “reality” we are supposed to conform too when we are taken from one family and placed into another. Being adopted leaves adoptees with multitudes of questions about what is “real” in their lives and what is not. I wrote this blog in haste and it may not be my best but I believe the ideas, emotions, and struggles of adoptees will come through hopefully. It seemed important enough to keep me up until 2:00 a.m. ideas and sentences pinging around in my brain that I felt the need to get it out.
I will also state that this blog post is my reality about adoption and my experience with it firsthand while being involved in adoption education and activism over the years. It might not be every adoptee’s real take on the reality of adoption in their life, I wouldn’t expect it to be. I do believe it is a real struggle defining reality for adoptees that we spend a great amount of energy navigating differing stories and juggling of truths, half truth, and lies. The mysteries that surround where I came from seem steeped in more controversy than the existence of UFOs and I’m fairly certain there have been more sightings of Big Foot than of my original birth certificate.