When I look in the mirror, what do I see?
The eyes that were the subject of so many taunts and jokes. No amount of makeup could make them larger and rounder.
The hair that wouldn’t curl, laying limp against my face. A similar color to my adoptive father’s, leading kids to question if he was actually my biological dad.
A nose without a bridge, causing glasses to sit against my cheeks. The harsh, red lines imprinted against my skin.
Lips people called “full and kissable”. A seemingly harmless compliment that made me feel fetishized and dirty.
What about beneath the surface?
Someone broken by abandonment who can no longer show up for their friends and family.
Someone who seems to have it all, but always knew there was something missing.
Someone who knows the burning questions will never be answered, but doesn’t stop seeking the information.
I look in the mirror and know for a post-adoption life, mine is fantastic. Without society’s help, I know what I’m grateful for.
I know I survived trauma. I know I am strong.
But my relinquishment? My second abandonment?
They’ve permanently engrained
on my forehead.
I don’t see the glowing qualities my friends and family tell me I have. I’m left staring at my reflection picking out traits and behaviors that could give me an answer.
Adoption may have given me a life that seems like a fairytale, but adoption hasn’t examined what it did to my self-worth.
Adoption, you created me. It’s time for you to see all of me.
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