"I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it — I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know — but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.â€ – Virginia Satir
I am sad at the loss of her.
I am sad that she had to grow up adopted.
I am sad she grew up an only child.
I am sad that she may have felt rejected, abandoned, unloved, unwanted. She was none of those things.
I am sad that my two other children may never know their sister.
I am sad that certain people in my life continue to be embarrassed and ashamed by me and my experience and the work I do for others.
I am sad she doesnâ€™t want to meet (yet?).
I am sad that my adoption trauma has negatively affected other relationships.
I am sad and mad that I am her dirty secret and she cannot discuss me with her aparents.
I am mad at myself for surrendering her.
I am mad at myself for being ignorant to little ditties like Primal Wound.
I am mad at the agency for their coercion and intimidation.
I am mad that they threatened to sue me if I did not give her to them. I am mad and sad that I caved and gave in.
I am mad that they lied to me about her going into foster care.
I am mad that they lied to me about her adoption being semi-open (which really means semi-closed). They promised me pictures and updates for her entire life. They never came.
I am mad that I really believed the caseworker liked me and cared about me.
I am mad she used that perceived friendship to take my child from me.
I am mad at the Catholic Church.
I am mad that a country like ours places so little value on the mother child bond and believes it better to remove a child from the breast of its mother and give the child to someone who has a car and home but no breast milk.
I am mad that they agency told her parents that their money was going towards post relinquishment counseling for me. I received none.
I am mad I was never told the legal process.
I am mad that I had no legal representation.
I am mad I was never told of a revocation period.
I am mad that revocation would have never been honored had I known about it.
I am mad that adults around me in the maternity home knew the truth about my agency but kept it from me.
I am scared at what this may have done to her and what it means to us and our future.
I am scared I may never know her like I want to know her.
I am scared I may never get the chance to meet her.
I am scared that she is angry with me and may stay angry with me forever.