Friday, October 29, 2010

What A Week, Rainbow-Wise

This has been quite a week for rainbows in our house. First, our Rockmeister crossed the Rainbow Bridge to a peaceful rest. Then little Dolly joined our family and her light is shining through our tears to create more rainbows. But then, darn it, I read a post by an adoptee/social worker, farting copious adoption rainbows.

Her post was a complete flight of fantasy. I would copy and paste but that is against the forum rules. It ran the gamut from the usual "good adoptee" paeans of praise and love for her adopters, and frequent use of the "b" word, to how lucky children are that are born to "Hero B****Mothers" (her term) who love them enough to give them away. I felt the urge to regurge.

The bitch of it is that I think this person truly, at least to her conscious mind, believes this crap. To believe otherwise would be a scary proposition for her. Her purple, pink, yellow and green prose evoked images of the fatuous smiles of religious cult fanatics. I can almost see a bumper sticker saying "Smile, Adoption loves you." And, oh yes, she did imply that adoption is all God's idea. Poor God. Whatever He/She is, He/She gets both blame and credit in areas I think He/She would rather avoid. But then I have learned, sadly, that the God of most folk's understanding is created in their own image. I once heard someone, I don't remember who, say, "There is a God and his name is Ego."

I had an image in my mind as I read that post. I saw, amid all those specious, precious proclamations of the wonderful nature of adoption, a little girl, hiding in the corner of her mind, shutting her eyes tightly so she can't see the monsters. That little girl is just as confused and sad as any other adoptee who has been deprived of roots, heritage and, most importantly, their natural mother. So she has constructed an elaborate defence made of rainbow colors, unicorns, fairies and angel wings and plopped herself deep in the middle of this airy fort by making her career one of doing to other mothers and their children what was done to her and her mother.

Usually, I get angry and frustrated when I read such drivel. I will admit to a bit of frustration, but, more than anything, I just felt sad for this woman. I imagine that her arms and hands are very tired from holding on so tightly to that unreal world of hers. And that baby girl inside her psyche still cries for her mother.

I have to shake my head at the society that allows so many myths to make up the fabric of life for so many. We're taught terribly skewed history in schools. We're bombarded with dogma and miracles rather than love and acceptance in church, we are suckered in by false promises from politicians, and many of us live with that 800-pound gorilla, smack in the middle of the room, and never acknowledge him. Hey everyone! Reality can be harsh but it can also be wonderful. You take it all as part of the fabric of real life.

This poem, one whose author is unknown, calls us out as wasters of real rainbows. That might be the reason so many people reach a point in their life when they are all out of them...no more rainbows, and that's sad. If you don't have one or two tucked away, then you are ripe for terminal depression.

Rainbows Are Not For Everyday

Rainbows are not for everyday …
Their essence is transience,
The bitter sweet poignance
Of a beloved who died young.
Born from the slow dying
Of a million rain drops
They cast a magic spell
Of laughter and tears
On all my empty days.
Rainbows are not for everyday
I keep them folded away
For a rainy day.
Till a magical fragment
Of memory
Explodes …..
And they blaze across the sky
Setting the day afire
With their radiance.
Overtaking me with the wonder
Of an undeserved gift.
Rainbows are not for everyday.
A rainbow is a bridge
And a bridge is for passing
You cannot hold a
rainbow in your hand.

Oh, but don't so many of us try?

5 comments:

Lori said...

I too have come across many adoptees that still live in that dark little corner, projecting the imagine of the "good" little adoptee. At times, yes, I too have, how did you put it, the urge to regurge. Some are people that are otherwise interesting and someone I might want to know.

What is sad, these rainbow huggers, they often, when writing about themselves, expose the child and still deny it. That makes me feel bad for them. Because like the rainbow of the poem, the adoptee will one day lose control and the child will burst forth and make their lives a living hades.

I do love "There is a God and his name is Ego" statement. I am so going to borrow it. After all, most people do indeed make the Creator into some kind of window peeping, child stealing monster that is only a product of greedy, selfish and purient minds.

Anonymous said...

What enrages me (an adoptee) is that this rainbow-spewing is programmed into an adoptee. It is brainwashing. We are forced to call strangers "Mommy", "Daddy", "Grandma", "Grandpa", "Aunt", "Uncle", etc. and this is just the beginning of the mind f&ck. Throughout our lives our pain and our experience is ignored, as if ignoring reality makes it unreal. An adopted person's mind has to do some crazy bending in order to "fit in" the family and the society that we are sold into.

It's sad to see how many of us live within the rainbow-farting gasses and never emerge into the real world.

Linda said...

Oh, Gawd. So she has taken her brainwashing one step further and wishes to inflict this pain on others? It's so sad.

I think Chuckie and the other Gawds of the adoption industry adore these types. "These CHILDREN are the perfect example of adoption and the loving choice made for them is something they wish to encourage! Yay, robot-adoptlings!"

I know a few of these types, including some f Moms who went back and worked for the people who sold their children to adoption. (think Birth Mom Missions on Facebook)

I truly do not understand this. Every once in a while, their true feelings shine through, and they contradict their "mission" (s)

I get being afraid to speak out about the pain. I do. It's hard to go against everything that was force-fed to you your entire life. You know as well as I do the moment the adult adoptee (or first Mothers, for that matter) dares to speak about our pain, we get the "bitter, angry and must have had a bad experience" label and our feelings are invalidated and we are told to shut up and be grateful. Yeah, well, adoption IS a bad experience.

To actively work towards separating a mother and her child is twisted.

ps- Dolly is adorable!! :)

Robin said...

You nailed it, Linda. And Thanks. Dolly thinks she is adorable, too. ;o)

Sandy Young said...

Robin,
I am delighted that you are finding such joy in Dolly. I am sure that the Rockster would understand and approve.

I am with you on the rainbow farters. You just want to go up to them, slap them awake and shout, STOP IT! at them because you know that they are tap dancing as fast as they can to avoid looking inside themselves at the place where the hurt lies. Eventually, they have to stop to catch their breath, and then they will come face to face with things they have avoided so scrupulously. Sucks to be them, then...