I am many people
I am the small baby born to my genetic parents, the product of those genes with all that it entails:the mental health issues, medical complaints, historic background.
I am the young child who is affected by all the attachment issues of being born to those parents and then neglected through infant-hood.
I am also the frightened and confused child who went through the care system, who was sexually abused in a children's home, physically and mentally abused by relatives, and then palmed off into the 1970's care system
I then become the intelligent (off the top of the scale) child who is forced to become the product of an upper middle class, educated foster family. The trophy child. Well spoken, with a good education; and no heed paid to being emotionally screwed up. Emotional health is not a consideration in this family.
Sent back to the birth mother aged 13 and I become, again, an abused child. Verbally, emotionally and phsyically.
Living alone from sixteen I re-invent myself again as yet another person. Lonely, needy, sexually provocative, desperate to be wanted and loved.
Then I became a mother. My biggest challenge and my greatest gift.
But with no family background, no traditions or experiences to call on, I became an improvisor.
Who am I now? I am the product of all those people. The scared, abused, neglected child. The lonely, needy, vulnerable young adult. The young inexperienced parent who is winging it.
My mind whirrs constantly. I don't know who I am. I am such a mixture of different backgrounds, different experiences. I have no security and no grounding. I have nobody to ask. Nobody with memories of me to call on.
I cry.
Late at night, on my own, I cry.
I am a strong person, but I need to know who I am. I crave security. I crave the feeling of belonging. I walk past houses at night, I look into their front windows and I just want to be part of that family.
Am I working class or middle class?
Am I educated or uneducated?
Am I a professional?
Am I nothing?
I have invented myself. But that doesn't stop the pain
I have amazing children who are my world. But that doesn't stop the pain.
I have a wife. But that doesn't stop the pain
I have amazing intelligence and talent. But that doesn't stop the pain.
It eats away every day.
Every day.
Every single day.
Every hour of every day.
Every minute of every hour.
When an abused and neglected child is taken into care, professionals need to take their family background and upbringing on board. Although it seems idylic to foster children into lovely middle class families, this then leads to adults who don't know where they belong. I don't want to be the product of my birth parents..... but I am.
At 48 years old I don't know where I come from. I have no parents, no grandparents, no aunts or uncles. I have nobody to share my children with. Nobody to offer support.
I am sad.
