I never once was taught from the early age of my adoption how to mourn & grieve my first initial loss that ended up effecting my entire life. I think because we are babies, the world around us was incapable of understanding the dynamics of this replacement mother/baby switch, believing we as children didn’t have anything to grieve. Adoptees are looked upon as a blessing in someones else’s life, while our own personal trauma from it goes unnoticed, ignored or dismissed, acting as if this loss never happened to us.
My first real informative memory of opinion outside my home life was my being held back in 1st grade & the humiliation is suffered with the same first grade teacher & on the playground with my peers. I was teased, made fun of & called a lot of hurtful names for being stupid, retreating me to a place of make believe & isolation. They must have been true if my entire educational system believed this of me, handicapping my entire school experience from there on out. You would never know this now by meeting me today, what I had suffered from as a child.
I had never in my life struggled with my own weight & could probably eat many of you under the table. I did however grow up in a home with an adopted mother who body shamed me because of her own weight loss & diet obsessed body dysmorphia imagine, which got consciously transferred onto me. Unlike her, I was graced with a set of biological genetic genes that is nothing like hers that created a jealousy instead, unknowingly internalizing this shame within my own beautiful body.
I always felt haunted in my own body by the ghostly feeling of these unresolved bleeding wounds of being given away. Even as a grown woman, I still needed & wanted answers that only she had the power to relinquish over me. What would make a mother want to give their child away was a very big question I had, especially becoming a mother of my own adding more emotions to wounds that would never seem to heal.
I have suffered many forms of this abuse throughout my life, causing me to question the lack of love & self worth I once had. In some unconscious capacity, I believed I deserved to be treated in this destructive manner, being adopted, feeling so unlovable & not being able to actually see the marks of abuse upon my skin but rather feel them in the deepest places of my psyche. My earliest form of love came at the hands of my adopted narcissistic mother, so knowing any differently was never my option, till much later in life when I met my now husband.
I had an epiphany yesterday after celebrating my husbands 42 birthday this past weekend. I realized in that singular moment of pure happiness that if those various suicide attempts I had tried way back when would have taken my life, I wouldn’t have be able to be where I am today. I would have missed out on such a beautiful lifeContinue reading “Life After Narcissistic Abuse”
I never truly knew how abused I was until I began to heal. This sacred personal work is prudent & detrimental to me, my husband, my daughter & the future legacy that follows. I decided that my children deserved a healthier loving legacy than the one I got adopted into, filled with secrets, lies, distorted beliefs & with its own legacy of unhealed trauma that brewed resentment & anger camouflage to come across as love.
It was in that dreadful moment that I wasn’t chosen & disregarded that I realized I had to literally begin to mourn the loss of my living father who metaphorically died that day as my dad. I was horribly criticized by the flying monkeys of my narcissistic mother & ostracized from this family for apparently abandoning my “parents”, even though it was them who let me go that day. They remain toxically comfortable in their victim mentality, using the story of their own distorted truth to narrate the fucked up dynamics of their broken family.
Yesterday was WORLD NARCISSIST ABUSE AWARENESS DAY. All the naysayers & haters can roll their eyes until they’re dizzy & pass out, but this abuse is extremely real mentally & emotionally as real can be. It is disguised with smoke & mirrors, operating in a covert physiologically distrutive way, hiding its marks within the emotional/ mental body creating traumatic invisible wounds that don’tContinue reading “#ifmywoundswerevisible”
I couldn’t understand the gravity back then of what it meant to reclaim my spirit & how my light was actually a source of energy for those just looking to suck it dry. There is a psychology name for those kind of people now, they call them emotional vampires (energetic mosquitos) that feed off your energy supply.