Betty Jean Lifton.

This is just a quick post to say how very sorry I and a great many others from the adoption community were when the news of Betty's death reached us.

Betty Jean Lifton was an adoptee who advocated for the rights of adopted people throughout her life. She is and always will be a personal hero of mine and her books have helped me greatly, even in just understanding that I am not alone and that my feelings are justified. Her book - “Journey of the Adopted Self” was dedicated to her two mothers, who, she wrote, “might have known and even liked each other in another life and another adoption system.”

This book has comforted so many adoptees over the years and I for one can say that finding it was a great relief. I mention the dedication because I hope and pray that the 'other' adoption system she dreamt of is not too far away and that for me at least, my two mothers will know and like each other as I continue in my reunion.

Betty's books will, I am sure, continue to not only be an inspiration for adoptees, but an educational tool for adoptive parents and a helping hand to everyone suffering adoption loss.

Feeling sorry for myself.

I almost feel a bit guilty when I write that, I mean I'm not starving, I don't live on the streets, I'm fit and healthy and have many good people in my life.

But you know what, I am going to feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I think I spend too much energy trying to be nice to everyone and tell both my families that I'm okay because I can't bear the idea of hurting the people I love with this burden that in reality I'm really not over the moon about being adopted. And it's not because of anything my adoptive family have or haven't done, I'm not even angry at my natural family because I just love them so much. I'm just so angry at my life. I hate that at any given time of any day I can just burst into tears, I hate that whenever I sleep alone I find myself sobbing into my pillow. I feel like the rest of the unadopted world is strolling along at a nice normal pace and to try and keep up with the normality I'm having to run. I'm exhausted.

Yesterday I was walking to a seminar at uni and Avril Lavigne - I'm With You came onto my ipod. Suddenly I fighting back tears and couldn't get the image of myself as a baby lost and scared wandering where mummy had gone, before being taken home with strangers. Half of this pain I think is pity for my baby self. I must have been so confused. The worst part about being adopted at birth is that everyone assumes that it has no effect on you whatsoever, everyone just thinks you're fine and if you even slightly let on that you're not, they look at you like you're mental.

If my parents had died when I was young, then people wouldn't think I was weird to miss them, but mine didn't die, worse, they CHOSE not to be a part of my life. And for some reason I'm not supposed to be upset about that, because I was 'too young to understand.' I could insert here plenty of quotes from adoption studies of from 'The Primal Wound,' to illustrate my point, but I have to leave for my lecture in two minutes or I'll be late.

So you'll just have to take my word for it. Being adopted sucks. I don't think I'll ever get my head round this pain, I don't think I'll ever stop crying about it. And worst of all, unless they're adopted nobody can, or even tries to understand.