Scar Story: On Success and Family
by La-vainna Seaton | special to NewBlackMan (in Exile)
“She a crack baby. She came from a drug family, " – that’s what my adopted family told my mama when I got locked up. They told her I wasn’t her ‘real child’, they asked her why did she care, they told her to leave me there. I was 16.
Re-wind for a minute. I was placed in foster home when I was about two weeks and later adopted by my foster parents. I never knew my mother, but she was known very well. My mother did a lot of heavy drugs, as a result she made bad decisions. She started taking drugs after my oldest sister was born. She ran away when my sister was only five claiming she was going to get pencils so they could finish up my sister’s homework. My mother was known as an addict and a person who would not be successful.
When I was 11 my adopted mother pulled me and my biological sister to one side and told us we were adopted. I was very rebellious after that. I would fight because I felt I needed to claim my own. I felt everyone was feeling sorry for me because they knew I was different. At family functions I would distance myself and go in a corner and write letters to my real mother asking her to come back for me. Knowing they would never be sent I crumpled them up and suppressed the feelings.
I always felt different. I felt weird going with my adopted mother to family functions. Everyone looked so much different compared to me, but my adopted mother would resemble them. I always felt that the blood running through my body was not the same as my family and it scared me. There was other stuff. Health issues. My adopted mother would take me to the doctor and when they asked questions in connection to family history and past health issues, there was always a blank. The doctor would have to do extra tests.
I would ask my friends if they felt the same, but they couldn't quite grasp what I was feeling. They couldn't feel the empty space in my heart, my desire to want to be ‘normal’. ‘Normal’ meant going to family functions and my aunt grabbing me and telling me “you know you look just like your uncle”. ‘Normal’ would have meant knowing my past health and my history. In junior high school I had a fight with my best friend because she didn’t give me the reaction I needed after I told her I was adopted I punched her in her face.
Growing up a map of success is drawn out for you. But who's success is it - yours or the person that drew it? As an adopted child I’m given a second chance; because of that I’m supposed to change expectations. I’m not supposed to become my mother’s child. Expectations are positive and negative.
If you break the cycle of drugs and bad choices, you were seen as a survivor, someone with a strong interior and exterior. If not, you were "your mothers child". My oldest sister was the only one who was not adopted and who knew my mother. She told me my mother got caught up, and couldn’t find her way back. She started becoming dependent on drugs. My mother was known as an addict and a person who would not be successful.
Fast forward to 16. I still couldn't shake the feeling and I was still acting out. I was kicked out of my first high school because I jumped in a friend’s fight, ended up fighting the school safety officer, who pressed charges. I got kicked out my second school because once again I jumped in a friend’s fight and broke a girls nose. My last school I got kicked out because my friends and I gave the school a bad reputation after we did a Craigslist scam, where we placed a false ad selling an item. It resulted in a bail for $150,000 and my name all over the news and papers. I was terrified and alone.
While incarcerated, my adopted mother would come and see me. That brings me right back to the beginning of this piece. She would tell me the hurtful things "my family" her family were saying. They worked to convince my mother to leave me there. One example of what they said was how I started this ‘Scar Story’: "she not your real child, why do you care what happens to her" Another? "Leave her there Barbara she needs to rot, why should you be going through this pain". When my mother shared the comments, it wasn't a shock. I knew I wasn't a part of a family from birth. My past crept up on me. Now I was in trouble, I was my ‘mother’s child.’ I was an adopted female who would turn out just like her mother.
But was that me? It didn’t matter because that was the label. The blessing? My adopted mother never left my side. Despite all the remarks and ridicule she still stood by me. My mother put our house up to get me out and never told a soul. When I came out I ran to her, she pulled me close, held me tight and told me in my ear “you are my child, don’t ever let anyone tell you different”.
I finally felt a part of a family. After 16 years, I felt loved. After the whole ordeal me and my Mama’s bond grew closer. She is now my best friend and hero. I always wonder though -- what if my biological mother was placed in the same situation, would she have done the same thing? My mother passed away when I was four years old. She died of A.I.D.S.
#Triumph: Knowing you are not alone.
#FlyTakeAway: Suppressed feelings need a remedy of communication and love.
***
SCAR STORY is part of intlFLYGIRLSday, a campaign launched this year by Emotional Justice Unplugged founder Esther Armah to encourage, inspire, create sisterhood among young women. The multi-media campaign called 30 Dayz Of Fly invites young women to self id their fly: that's their brilliance, beauty, power, smartness and to id that in their girl. For more:- http://www.yasmag.com/YAS_MAG/Fly_Girls_Day.html
Title: Scar Story: On Success and Family
Rating: 100% based on 99998 ratings. 5 user reviews.
7:27 AM
Rating: 100% based on 99998 ratings. 5 user reviews.
7:27 AM
