“I am an adopted child, I do not know my origins. Why have I been abandoned? Have I suffered violence? Am I the result of incest, of rape? Have they found me on the street? I only know that I was placed in the Bombay orphanage, before coming to France at one year old. My parents made this black hole a color, giving me care and love. But a darkness too. Because the love we receive is not necessarily what we expect.
At the beginning, before elementary school, my life was happy. I was surrounded, pampered, adored. Even if sometimes I searched in vain for a physical resemblance to my father or my mother, our daily joy of life took precedence over my questions. And then, school transformed me. She made my anxieties my character. That is, my hyper-attachment to the people I met became a way of being. My friends suffered from it. My best friend, whom I kept for ten years, ended up turning her back on me. I was exclusive, pot of glue, I claimed to be the only one and, worst of all, I did not admit that others differ from me in the way they express their friendship. I realized How long fear of abandonment resided in me.
As a teenager, I missed a boy’s love this time. My identity gap was stronger than anything and I began to feel a pronounced sickness again. I became addicted to food, like a drug. My mother did not have the words to help me, nor a close enough contact. She was minimizing. Was it out of anxiety? I do not know. These ailments were for her, the normal ones of adolescence. And this coldness hurt me. I wanted to get out of it on my own, because I felt that my calls for help were taken for whims. I thought about death and it wasn’t a teenage fantasy. Luckily, I went to see a magnetizer. By dint of working on me, I realized that the problem was not the adoption itself, but the initial abandonment.
From there, I figured out all of my extreme behaviors. My surrender, rooted in me, reminded me over and over again that I couldn’t be loved for long and that things didn’t last. I had analyzed, of course, and I was going to be able to act and change my life. But when I entered the world of work, an existential crisis seized me. My relationships with men weakened me instead of accompanying me and making me grow. My beloved grandmother is dead, and I missed her immense love. I felt very lonely. All the stories I had with men ended quickly, leaving me with a bitter taste of abandonment. Listening to his needs, respecting the rhythm and expectations of his partner, it was a nice challenge, but for me so difficult to achieve. Until I met Mathias.
But before, there was my trip to India, experienced as a key moment: I always thought it was an important step in coming to terms with my past. Some told me that this trip was courageous, but I needed to see reality in the face, on the spot. So I returned to the orphanage. What a slap! Poverty, inequality overwhelmed me. As soon as I saw a little girl in the street, she referred me to something. Or rather to someone …
The reception at the orphanage went well. It did me good to tell myself that the place was safe and welcoming. It allowed me to take a step forward. I had been there. I knew. I had seen.
I met Mathias in 2018, at a time when I was emotionally available, without a priori or criticism. I believe in his honesty, in his emotional stability. He expresses what he feels. I understood that we can express ourselves other than with words. Before him, I was sure that everything was doomed to fail. I also trust him as the father of our child. We quickly agreed on the desire to start a family. A child is not a crutch, he does not come to fill an emotional gap. I got pregnant very quickly. My pregnancy made me even more vulnerable. I was afraid of not finding my place as a mother. At the beginning, I shared a lot with my parents. But since my son was born, our bond has become clear: I protect him without overprotecting him. I need to be with him, that the three of us are in a bubble.
This image, I still have it, and I will not forget it. She hurts me. I imagined myself in his place. But my son will have his life, less parasitized than mine I hope, by the fear of abandonment and loneliness. I smile, because I’m sure the best is yet to come, from the day we decide it.
This testimony is taken from the book “From abandonment to adoption”, by Alice Marchandeau
From abandonment to adoption, there is only one step, which can sometimes take several years to materialize. The happy couple waiting for a child, and, on the other side, the child who is only waiting for a family to be fulfilled. Until then, the scenario is ideal. But wouldn’t that be more subtle? The injury caused by abandonment heals with difficulty. Fear of being abandoned again, feeling put aside … The author, adopted child, gives us here to see the different aspects of a wounded life, until the return to the sources, in the country of origin of the adopted child, and the upheavals that this entails. This book is also a strong proof that the trauma of abandonment is overcome, that it is possible to build a life, social, emotional, love. This testimony is charged with emotions, which will speak to everyone, adopting or adopted.
By Alice Marchandeau, ed. Free Authors, € 12, www.les-auteurs-libres.com/De-l-abandon-al-adoption