PTSD and Adoption Trauma

I have been reading a good deal literature of the theory regarding the aftereffects that adoption has on each member of the adoption triad, mainly adult adoptees. James (1989) describes trauma as "overwhelming, uncontrollable experiences that psychologically impact victims by creating feelings of helplessness, vulnerability, loss of safety, and loss of control.  Typically, the sources of trauma include: child abuse and/or neglect, or violence one witnesses in his/her environment. Less commonly understood as a source of trauma is that of the separation of an infant's natural mother.

Birth in itself is a traumatic experience for the newborn. However, I believe, the mother comforting HER baby after the labor/birth buffers the negative effects experienced later by the baby. What if mom was stripped away from that poor helpless baby... not able to provide that much needed comfort.... Instead, she is replaced with some other form surrogate comfort.

In PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), the person's response to the trauma is that of fear, helplessness, or horror (that was not present before the trauma). This is rather sketchy to determine with adoption trauma, since all newborns were most likely terrified after coming out of the birth canal, when in the womb, it felt safe. Therefore, I will focus more on the effects after the initial trauma.

It is after the traumatic event, where the parallels start to become more clear.  First, in PTSD the person re-experiences the traumatic event in one of several ways. (Please click this link for more information on the DSM-IV-TR (APA, 2004) criteria).  Ever since I have been learning more about my origins and adoption experiences, I have been waking up periodically in a sweat from nightmares. I do not remember the details of them, but my partner also tells me there have been nights where I have yelled out in my sleep. Freud would have a field day in the analysis of my dreams!  (Note: In children, there may be dreams without recognizable content.... regression?)

Secondly, the person AVOIDS situations or feelings associated with the trauma. Pretty much throughout my entire childhood and adolescence (and until this point in my life), I have been avoiding all reminders of being adopted. "She isn't my real mother. She just gave birth to me."  "My parents are my REAL parents so STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!" These are the typical statements of my adolescence and young adulthood... denial. From what I have been reading of other adult adoptee experiences, this seems to be a common theme.

Third, the person has persistent symptoms of "increased nervous system arousal" not present before the trauma. For example, I have had disruption in my sleep patterns, increased irritability, and hyper-vigilance.

And finally, the experiences must cause "clinically significant" distress or "impairment in social, occupational" or other areas of life. In my case, the constant self-sabotage in interviews and not being able to get a job would definitely go under this category.

This is just an overview. As I start to really delve into my experiences and interpret my psychological realities I will post more. So look for more later!

Also, please comment any reactions, similar experiences, or differences in opinion. I would REALLY appreciate any insight to others' experiences!!

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Melissa Nicholson's Portfolio:
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**This Site is Still Un...: "WELCOME TO MY PORTFOLIO! **This Site is Still Under Construction** Even though the site is still a 'work in progress', please feel free ..."

The Unborn Truth

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Hopelessly Unemployed

So I am really beginning to think that I have no future other than being a mother.  It is just not in the stars for me I suppose. Just to think that all that money was just all a waste. Thousands upon thousands of dollars spent on higher education to get me where I am today. Unemployed. Hopeless.

I used to admire this woman. She seemed so strong and ambitious. Nothing could get her down. No man would dare go against her. 

Where did my strength go? Where is the ambition? 

I am beat down and hopeless...

Love the Way You Lie

It took me 4 months to listen to the song "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminem, featuring Rihanna. I still cannot bring myself to sit through the music video, as the song is emotionally triggering in itself, it brings back all those painful memories that have been stored deep into subconsciousness. However, one my ever-so-trustworthy defense mechanisms, intellectualization, helps me truly appreciate this piece of music. Eminem portrays the dynamics of domestic violence extremely well, although at the times, seems more extreme than most cases that I have seen. Nonetheless, aside from the dramatic effect, I am sure perpetrators sometimes do think "if she ever tries to fucking leave again Im'a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire." That's the beauty of this song: the abuser loves the victim, but the need for control leads to violence, and ultimately turns love into hate.

Finding My Birth Mother

It has been 10 days since I found my birthmother. I am over the initial shock, as I found her only on a whim the day after Thanksgiving. I randomly decided to visit www.registry.adoption.com where I typed in my birthdate and the location of my birth into the quick search feature. After I hit "search" my heart started pounding. Louder than I have felt it pound in my entire life. I then went into a panic as I read her profile description. "No way, this can't be her," I kept telling myself. I hastily wrote her an email*:

Hello,

I recently joined this site and after typing in my birth date and state your profile came up.... Please contact me back if you think you may be my birthmother.

Thank you so much,

Melissa

Less than 10 minutes later she responded. In her email she said, as far as she knew, her birthdaughter's name was Julie which could have been a name given at the foster parents home before going to the adoptive home. She also stated she was "under the impression" of the relative location of the adoptive family. I started to panic even more, my beginning to shake. She was correct on the area which we lived. "This cannot be happening," I continued to say to myself.

I called my (adoptive) mother, who was in the car with my (adoptive) father on the way to Florida. Since my father doesn't know what's going on at this point, I started speaking with my mother in "code". I asked her if she knew anything about a name given to me during my foster placement. She said, she didn't know why, but it had came to her the other day. She never wrote it down and (surprise), out of the blew, she remembered it. I asked her if it started with a "J" and she confirmed. She then began to cry. My dad was outside filling the gas tank when my mom started to break down. She told me that they had waited 5 years for me and it was meant to be... she wouldn't change anything but feels "bad about the divorce" and how that has affected us. She felt she was being replaced. My panic was replaced with pain. Pain for my mother as I felt her sorrow as we continued to speak. I told her that she was "non-replaceable," that she was (and will always be) my hero for her courage and strength to leave an abusive relationship. I told her she was still my mother, and I would not be who I am or where I am today without my life experiences. "This was and is not your fault. I love you mom."

*Edited Content

Early Art

I know art is not about the end product is more about the "process," but now that I look at this piece I feel aggravated. I love certain aspects, the "broken womb" image especially. The perfectionist part of me, however, dislikes the tears. The image I wanted to be portrayed was clear in my mind but I couldn't accurately depict what I saw onto the paper. My lack in artistic ability I suppose.

My "Inner Child"

Dear Birthmother (On My Birthday)

Dear Birthmother

I wanted to express to you today on my birthday

25 years later, I am finding the lost words

that for years have been locked and stored away.

I am finally beginning to understand

how you must have felt first hand.

The first moment I held my son

tightly against my chest.

I caught a glimpse of you

and unleashed emotions that have been repressed.

The bond between a mother and her unborn

will remain forever

and can never be torn.

Like the fine white grains of sand,

wherever they may drift,

they always will remain part of the land.

Today I wonder if you still think of me

examining the reasons that you did flee.

I want to let you know

in my heart those reasons will never matter.

I will continue to think of you

and wonder if your heart is still in shatters.

The Love of My Life

Having Logan has been the best experiences of my life. Words cannot express how much this beautiful extension of myself as truly changed my life.

Throughout my entire pregnancy onward, I have realized the lasting importance of attachment. Even throughout the womb, the unborn child and mother are symbiotically bonding to one another. The fetus becomes familiar with the mother's voice and her heart beat which is carried through pregnancy onto the rest of the newborn's life. When Logan was about 2 months old I witnessed the beauty in his attachment towards me, his biological mother. I was shocked to reflect back on my own birth and how I did not have the same attachment period to my own birthmother. I bonded with her in the womb and was torn away from the mother that I was bonded to and thrown into a foster home for three months. I believe that, subconsciously, this early period in my life has made a lasting impact on my development and who I am as a person.

The Next Step

I am done with school. After this Friday I will be officially done and in approximately 4-6 weeks will be able to put the letters LLMSW behind my name. I oddly feel calm. Unlike before where I was terrified beyond belief with the idea that I would have no obligations, I feel relaxed. I am amazingly stress free. My priorities consist of working twice a week, looking for a job, and get some work done around the house. It is a nice feeling to be me again, to not be bogged down with school. It is also a time where I can focus on myself, getting back into shape. I worked out today and it felt great... no pain whatsoever. It is amazing how much stress can take a toll on the body. I have decided that the chronic pain that I have been experiencing the past few months was mostly stress induced. There is no other explanation... I am now stress-free and pain-free. I feel amazing.

I feel like I need to tell my parents of my plans to search for my birthmother. I don't want to deceive them by going behind their backs. I want them to be involved in the search for my identity. I just don't feel right excluding them, even though I know it would be easier. I think they probably have thought of the prospect of this even when I was very little; that one day their little girl will have desire to find her roots. It is nothing personal; they are my parents and I love them. They have provided me with all I could ever ask for even though there are parts of my childhood I wish to forget. I just need to know why. I need to know why she gave me up. I need to know if she felt any pain, if she still feels pain. I need to know about my conception. Was it consensual? Did she give me up out of pure Catholic guilt? Did she truly, in her heart, want me to have a better life? If so, was my life better? Was it all worth the years of struggling with the unconscious sense of abandonment that has guided my behaviors? Will I finally find myself, who I truly am and who I was meant to become?

New Beginnings?

I am sitting here in the blank cubicle that I recently cleared of my personal artifacts made over the past three months. I cannot believe this is my last day here. I always have a hard time dealing with change especially when I have given a lot of myself and have been taught many lessons from my kids who are now gone. I become attached to physical places and it becomes hard towards the end to separate myself from a place where I have overcome struggles and have learned more about myself. I know that I have had a difficult time here, however, I believe that I have learned more here than I have at any other internship/job. I wonder: will these attachments continue to effect me over time or will I develop a numbness to abandonment?

Done

Well, tonight marks the end of graduate school. I had my final class tonight and tomorrow is my last day as an intern. I am officially embarking on my new career which is currently unknown. Michigan sucks. There are no jobs. It is so bad that people with PhDs are applying for entry level therapist positions. That is my competition... great! All the other graduates are ecstatic to be done, most of which are on the same path as myself. Others have obtained positions through their internships... too bad I wasn't as lucky! I have sent cover letters and resumes for at least 10 positions. I have not heard back from a single one. I will start to call next week. I have no choice. It's not like I don't have anything better to do. Oh, I will be blogging more! That is always a plus!

Personal Genogram Paper

**POST REMOVED BY AUTHOR**