THE BEST

THE BEST

I was told from the age of one, in story form, that I was adopted. From the age of four that my Father wanted me and my Mother was a bad hard person. I didn’t really understand the word adopt, apart from I was different to my friends at school?

My Mum and Dad, who I loved so much, were not my real parents, well, that is how it was said to me, but I will always say they were my real parents, as specially what I know now?

I was told of my so called natural parents jobs, she was a model and he a steeple jockey? So not the  short ones. He was five ten. She about five 6. In those days, that was tall. I am about five nine.

I learned to hate the word adopted, as kids at school always asked me about it and I remember feeling really uncomfortable about the subject. Children want to be the same as their peers? I used to recoil at the questions like

“Are you adopted? What is it like being adopted? Why did your Mum not want you?” The press always felt compelled to inform the public of my history too! Under headlines, was often written,

Fiona Cummings the little adopted girl!” I mean why?

My Mum and Dad could show me all the love in the world, and I would still feel something huge missing in my life. Like a jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing. Like a pain  through the heart.  

Always wondering why I was given away? What was wrong with me, feeling like a worthless soul an very lost in life. Never belonging, always feeling like an underdog. Then from that to a Husband my X, who treat me in an appalling  manner, this is why I hate myself so much and feel shocked that you will want to bother yourself reading anything I have written, and this is why I am so grateful! You actually inspire me? Today Australia read our pages so thank you down under!

In my autobiography, if I am allowed to write in the future, I will tell you the horrific situation when I went on the discovery of my natural parents. You would not even believe such a story? Nothing in my life, is simple, complications follow me everywhere.

No one could love their Mum and Dad the way I did, no parents could love their children the way in which my parents loved me, an yet I still dream about what if?  I still wish I could see in my family myself, my roots my habits, an yet my dream is a nightmare on which I  will never wake up from.   

I have my seed, my darling teen and I hope he in the distant future, will plant more and my family will evolve? This is so  important to me. People who have their natural family, will not get this blog, it is a feeling only given to the not so privileged, those of us who are adopted.

I know you can have a family, Sisters, cousins, parents, who you wish you had never seen, as can we, us adopted folks, who have family out there, who we may not know, and some cases, who we should have never known about!

But what you have is history, is settlement. Is a place on the map, a sense of need, and be needed. You just simply fit. You belong, you’re not a reject.

I know this doesn’t make me a bad person, it was out of my control, but that took me years to learn this. I was to blame for putting my natural parents through hell, the hell of me, but I care, so if I am on this earth for a reason, it is to care, to love and to make people think and smile, to feel  good about themselves. This is something I work hard to do each day, but something that I enjoy doing.

My family are my closest friends. I have a brother, a Sister and of course my American parents, my Yam and DD. The good thing about being adopted, is I can chose my family, and they are the icing on the cake, the cream that the cat stole and the  gold on the finest churches!

 The best!