Blog Therapy: My childhood may not have been as I remember it.

I had lunch with my mother today.  And she mentioned that I'd taken a certain medication from 2nd grade through Junior High, at which time I suddenly refused to take it anymore.  It was an early ADD medication, the idea being that I had trouble concentrating in class.  And I really don't remember taking it at all (she's told me before - it's not like it's a secret).  And when she mentioned how I refused to take it anymore, I didn't remember that.  But some of it's coming back to me.

I remember feeling like I wasn't really a part of my family.  I had this impression, almost like they were all 'acting normal', so that I would be lulled into accepting my place in the family.  Like those stories you hear when they find an abductee is living with their abductor and has transitioned into thinking it's normal.  And being adopted played right into that.  And I'm remembering that my reasoning behind the medication decision was something like, 'Who are you people, and why are you drugging me?  Well, I'm not going along with that anymore.'

There's this cautionary vibe around adopting kids these days.  Not that people shouldn't do it or anything, but just this warning that adopted kids, even if they're adopted as babies, will often have their own set of issues and that they'll have trouble fitting into the family.  And it's strange, because I remember my childhood as normal.  But I'm wondering if that's just because we tend to think of ourselves as the norm.  I'm starting to realize that maybe I am that problem child.

Because, in my family, I'm the one they had to put on medication.  I'm the one they held back a grade.  I'm the one who had that phase bordering on paranoid delusions of not belonging.  I'm the one who struggled with severe depression.  I'm the one who attempted suicide.  I'm the one they sent to a therapist.  I'm the one who didn't finish college.  And even today, I'm the one who's not married and I'm the one who has never settled into a stable job.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not having paranoid delusions now.  I think I'm a fairly normal guy with fairly normal struggles, only some of which have their roots in being given up for adoption.  But I am wondering to what degree I've whitewashed my memories.  I'm left with a sense now that in my family, I was 'special'.  And it's creeping me out. 

It's hard to say, though, because I remember so little - my memories of my childhood are almost nonexistent.  And what little there is - they're mostly not even real memories - I just remember facts about what I used to remember.  I think a big part of that is because I don't visualize.  My brain does not store images, so I don't have those visual cues to help me remember.

So, to my family - sorry.  I guess you did the best you could.  Not that all of your decisions were perfect, but it's trial and error and I get that.