Sibling Connection

I was robbed of the connections that belonged to me. The connection to my blood, my biology, and the life I should have had were severed by my mother when she chose to abandon me with my father. She had already taken one sibling from me at that point, my older sister, relinquished at three years old, not too long before I came along. She would go on to take eight more; the six she passed out to her friends as they came out of her, like litter after litter of unwanted kittens, and the two my father kept. He would have kept me, too, had my mother not effectively ostracized him from his family with her habits and then abandoned him with a four month old baby. On her side, eight children scattered to six different families... no chance for connection there.

But with my father's side, I will always feel the missed opportunity. I will always believe there was a chance in the pages somewhere with them that was missed. Part of me will always feel like I blew it with my honesty. You see, I didn't tell the beautiful lie. I didn't parrot the happy adoption narrative. I was honest, perhaps too honest, about my struggles that being adopted has caused. And I was naive enough to mention the abuse, thus allowing them to dismiss me with the "bad experience" narrative. It's amazing to know them, to see myself echoed in them. It sucks to know I will NEVER hold any meaningful place in their lives. It's a far from simple dichotomy.

And so we not find these conflicts all through adoption? And do not all of these conflicts boil down to one essential dichotomy? The fact that:

I'm not really a part of my adoptive family, because I'm "not related by blood", and

I'm not really part of my blood family, because I'm "the one that was adopted out".

I barely know my brother and sister. I feel like I know them better than anyone. I don't trust them, yet on some level I trust them implicitly. We are family, and I find that still, after everything, I pathetically still EXPECT that to mean something. Raised together or not, I EXPECT it to mean something. Even I don't understand my own misplaced faith... or perhaps it's the DESIRE for faith in the meaning of "family" I cling to?

Either way, the thing I find ironic is how alike in fundamentals we are. We were NOT raised the same way. Morals, values, education, politics, religion, economic bracket, affection, tradition... all of it very different. Yet, in fundamentals; ideals, habits, tolerances, interests, likes and dislikes; I and my siblings are very, very much alike. Even down to our mannerisms... eating habits, ways we move, and apparently my brother and I "sleep alike" according to my father.

We weren't raised together, or the same way. Yet we are alike. You don't have to ask me about nature vs. nurture, because for me it's nature every time. The blood will out, just like the truth will. And even if I never see any of them again, we will be alike. We will be family, regardless of circumstance.

Something adoption cannot and will never provide.