The Ungrateful Adoptee

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,

Yeah, I know it sounds like I'm doing the "oh, poor me, everyone hates me" bullshit. This is not that. I am well and widely hated and vilified. I also happen to know for a fact that some people love me. Almost to the point of fandom. This has been the dichotomy of my adopted existence. My difference... my unusualness... my downright WEIRDNESS and inability to "fit in" has always caused my peers and society to have this reaction to me. I'm loved, I'm hated, and there's really no in between. I was going to bore you with the narrative of how, over the course of thirteen months, I went from coddled newb to everyone's favorite villain in adoptionland, but the people who will actually read this already know. So I'll just cut to the chase. I understand why I'm disliked by relinquishers, adopters, and adoptees alike. What I don't understand is the double standard. Relinquishers hate me because I insist that anyone not BSE did indeed hav