I have been putting the finishing touches on my adoption self-study. I thought I was pretty much done with it until we spent last Saturday evening with some good friends who are also two of our references for our adoption. I will call him D and she K. Time flies when you spend it with these two. We were out there for almost 6 hours and all we did was talk. Conversation with this couple is always deep and the talk most of the evening was about our adoption and our ability to parent a waiting child. We were talking about how childhood experiences shape who we grow to be. E brought up a couple of issues from my past and suddenly my whole life story spilled out.
It took me back a bit. I thought about the childhood experiences section of my self-study. I knew I would have to change my answer to the questions about family traumas during my youth. My life was truly wonderful before the age of 12. I worked on my grandparents fruit farm with the rest of my family from May until October from the time I could walk until I was 12 when my grandparents sold the farm. We also played and camped and laughed and had fun. I was loved. I believe that if I hadn't had such a great first 12 years the devastation that came later could have had terribly consequences for me as an adult. The following is the response to question 13 of the childhood experiences section of my self-study. I decided to go with full disclosure of my traumatic experiences from my teen years and beyond. I believe these experienced have shaped who I am but they have not defined me. I am too strong for that.
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Childhood experiences, question 13, continued
When I first answered question 13 I was thinking specifically about my childhood in my preteen tears. Upon further reflections I realize it was not only my preteen years that shaped who I am today.
My losses came during and after my parents divorce in 1986. The custodial parenting decision was made at the divorce hearing. My brother and I heard my mother say she wanted us to live with our dad. What we, as children, heard was that she did not want us. I now know that was not the truth but that was how it seemed to us as the time. That was devastating.
My mom remarried shortly after the divorce and then moved to Florida. We stayed with our dad although my brother moved to our mom and step-dad's in Florida a few months later. I never left my dad. I stayed with him, took care of the house and tried to pick up the pieces of him and put him back together. That was way too much responsibility for a teenager. He was hurting so bad and as an adult I now see he was exhibiting all the signs of depression.
A couple of years later, in 1988, his mental state worsened when the woman he was dating and in love with was killed by her ex-husband. She had been the victim of an abusive husband. He continued his abuse after their divorce by stalking and threatening her. He carried out his threats by murdering her and then killing himself. My dad regressed further into depression.
My brother moved back about this time and he and I grew very close. The fear that Dad's mental state would lead him to suicide was very real and present in everyday thoughts. We had nowhere to turn as friends and family downplayed all our fears.
Now as an adult and looking back I truly believe my father would have been diagnosed with a mental illness such as depression or bi-polar disorder. In 1991 he suffered another loss as another woman he was dating was killed in an automobile accident. My brother and I were headed to Florida with our grandparents and we were in an accident in Tennessee the same evening dad's friend was killed. I was so scared that he would take his life that I called him every day to check on him.
My poor father's life was so full of loss and pain. In 2000 he was forced into retirement due to blindness caused by extreme glaucoma pressure. Eric, my husband, and I did what we could to get him on disability and take care of his errands and doctors appointments. He stayed with us a few times for several weeks after eye surgeries.
Then in 2006 he was diagnosed with small cell carcinoma. By the time the cancer was found it had already spread from his lungs to his liver, kidneys, bowels and brain. They would radiate one area and tumors would spring up in another area. Dad lived just over 3 months after his diagnosis. Near the end I was praying for God to take this man and finally offer him some peace. He died at sunrise on Monday June 26,2006. I cried for the loss of my father but I celebrated his release. I knew with his passing he had finally found peace, comfort and wholeness in the arms of Jesus.
I need to disclose this part of my life because it has shaped who I have grown to be. I have not let the pain I was exposed to define me. The pain that I witnessed molded me into the caring, compassionate and faith-filled woman I am today. I wrote these words without a tear in my eye because I know that everything happens for a reason. I feel, perhaps, witnessing my father's pain was a training course for helping children in the future come to terms with their devastating losses. I need to feel that kind of pain has a purpose in fulfilling God's great plan for all of us.
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Our friend, D, wants to write a movie script about my life. He thinks it would make a great after school special. I believe anyone can rise above the circumstances of a negative past with enough strength and faith in God. I hope this doesn't hurt our chances at adoption but I did not want the agency to think I was leaving anything out about my past.