Like the rest of the world, I have been spending my time at home with my family and dogs. It is a time of work from home in sweats, cooking, resting and watching Star Wars.
I have had a lot of time to think and to remind myself to feel. I have a tendency to overthink and ignore how my heart and body feels. I think we all humans, adopted and non-adopted, have a tendency to do this during times of stress.
I came to my blog today and found that I have not not written for some time. Specifically, since November of 2019 (Last year). I began to wonder where the time has gone. How it is now April of 2020 and I have not been here to write.
I have started writing a book and this has taken time away from my blogging. I am working with writing coach Anne Heffron for the year 2020 to see if I can pull a book out of my cells. The writing is hard and sometimes feels like it falls short of what I want, but I keep at it and she keeps cheering me on.
The thing that I want to share in this post is a dream I woke up from this morning. It is one of those dreams that has caused reflection and contemplation. It is a dream that answered my life long question, “How do you fully accept yourself when you were never supposed to be here in the first place?”
In my dream, I was in a hospital delivery room. I realized I was about to give birth! I kept seeing a 25 year old me, alone, laboring. Then, I would see my first mother, Barb at 27, alone laboring. The dream was flashing between the two of us, laboring, alone and the feeling of loneliness was present. (Barb was 27 when I was born and I was 25 when I had my first child)
At the time of birth, I realized I was the one having the baby! In my dream, I felt as though I was actually giving birth! I felt very focused on that important, final push to bring the baby into the world. Then swoosh….
In my dream, the baby that I gave birth to was the person I am today. 54 years old, 5ft 7 inches tall and fully grown! What a strange experience this was to see myself, looking at myself as a “newborn.”
The most interesting part of the dream was I was alone. Alone in a room with my grown up self. I reached out to my “newborn” self and was able to hold, love and nurture that version of me, just like I did when I held my own new born babies. I felt safe and loved.
Then, I woke up.
I looked at the clock and it read 6:33 am. This is the time that is on my birth certificate as my time of birth. Isn’t the subconscious remarkable?!
Here is the thing about this dream: I have been in a process of getting to know myself in a new way. I have been in this post-out-of-the-adoption-fog place for almost 3 years. I am weary of the burden of the story of my beginnings, my adoption and my reunion. It was a lot to take in and to process. I started to feel so weighted down by so much.
I started to realize that I lost myself somewhere in all of the “heavy-duty” of the story. I lost some of the joy of living my life and of FEELING in my body. I found myself living in my thoughts, my overthinking, my re-thinking, my ruminating, my contemplating, and my racking of brains. Ugh… too much.
Being a person who was not supposed to even be born and a person who was not planned, not wanted, and a mistake takes it’s toll on your heart and mind. Being adopted is not an easy path to walk. But, what I have learned is that I do not own a corner on the market of suffering just because I am adopted. Many humans struggle and suffer unspeakable experiences. Being human is not easy.
To quote my therapist, “Being Human is Messy”
One sure self-gift I have gained through hard work in the past 3 years since my adoption reunion, through the buckets of tears, and weekly therapy sessions is:
- 1) I matter
- 2) I belong here
- 3) I have so much to offer
Today’s dream was information. I feel I am turning a corner in my healing journey. I am starting to allow my body to FEEL again. I am focusing more on my heart and less in my head. Though, I do overthink still, and often, but the difference is, I can catch myself and give compassion to the overthinking thoughts. Giving compassion to the one thing that I judge harshly and want to end has truly helped me gain much needed calm and self-acceptance.
My dream showed me that I can care for myself, even when I was not wanted in the beginning. It showed me that I am capable of nurturing my deepest wounds, even when they came from the injury of relinquishment, and that I can stand within my own strength to make a difference in my own life.
Even if I do nothing else with my life,
I know I am worthy of my own love.
(But know this, I have a lot to offer and a lot of love to give others)