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It Isn’t Personal
I think the hardest thing for me during the whole “learning to live together” adoption process,
the thing that made it worse for me,
the thing that broke my heart and left me feeling alone and fighting by myself,
were three little words: “It isn’t personal.”
When the kids were screaming at me, I was supposed to stay calm and answer back that “I understand your pain,” and “I’m sure you didn’t mean what you just said.” I was supposed to be considerate of the fact that they were “just emotional” and “they didn’t have the right coping skills.” I was supposed to understand that their brain developed differently due to trauma. For the first five years, I did that. I read the books. I understood the scripts. I calmly said:
- “I know you don’t mean that.”
- “Why don’t we take some time to calm down?”
- “I love you no matter how you feel, and that will never change.”
- “Let’s start again.”
- “Let’s try new coping skills.”
Speak slower. Speak calmer. Speak differently. I did all that. But, by the time they were teenagers, when I wouldn’t respond in anger, which is exactly what they wanted, they upped the ante. How do I know they wanted anger? They’ve all told me that. Do you know what spending 6, 7, 8 or more years in an orphanage gives you? A PH.D. in manipulation. Your logic is greatly diminished. Your emotions are at a toddler level, which is to be expected – no one taught you any different. But manipulation? Charming people? Lying through your teeth so convincingly that others couldn’t spot it if they tried – even if they are “good at telling when people lie?” The defending yourself to the death because you’d rather die than be wrong? Those things – those they have learned to a Master’s level. I don’t want to lump everyone together, but these are my observations from the 4 kids who were adopted at the oldest age from an orphanage. I’m sure there are many great, wonderful “this didn’t happen to me stories.” I’m happy for you. Truly I am. These are only my observations from our home. I am in no way saying this is true for everyone.
Three of the children who were adopted out of orphanages at an older age have admitted to me:
- that they wanted me gone
- they did everything in their power to get me to leave or have my husband leave me
- they lied constantly, about anything and everything
- they charmed others
- they believed that if they could just convince the world that I was a horrible person, then everything they had done that was harmful to the family wouldn’t count because it was me who was bad and they had no choice but to be mean back
- they would do things to fight with me and then cry the instant someone else walked in the room. (They are really good at this)
- they yelled in front of others that I was hurting them
- they told people, especially my younger children, lies about me
- they convinced my younger children, my babies, that I hated Mother’s Day and my birthday. That I hated being comforted when I cry. That I was always going to be “out to get them” because I never loved them like I loved my bio children
- they told the younger children that the younger children could never ever live up to what I wanted out of them and those became core beliefs in them; core beliefs that I still fight against today even after the two oldest adopted Chinese children have left the home
I don’t know about you but all of that sounds kind of personal. Having to put up the knives so no one can hurt you? Sounds personal. Putting extra locks on the door so you can sleep without wondering if someone is going to hurt you? Sounds personal. Having someone try to pepper spray you because they know pepper oil makes you have an asthma attack? Sounds personal. Having someone try to get your husband to leave you? PERSONAL. Having someone decide that going to live in a nursing home because then, finally then, people will know you are a horrible person who doesn’t want to care for her children? Seems a little personal.
So — sometimes, I yelled back. I felt alone in a battle I couldn’t win. I got louder. I defended myself. I’m stubborn, probably as stubborn as they are, so I didn’t give up. I stayed. I took the pain. I took the abuse. I stomped my feet. I begged them to stop. I showed them how to stop. I gave them a list of 100 different ways to calm down. What did they choose? They chose to punch a tree because it wasn’t on the list that I gave them. I told them they were forgiven. And they were! I told them we could start over. And we did! I told them I loved them. I told them they couldn’t make me hate them. It’s only now, now that I know the truth: my saying “I’ll love you no matter” gave them the permission, in their traumatized minds, to keep doing whatever they wanted because I would always forgive them and love them. How do I know this?
They told me.
How do you say “You’ve gone too far” and have them understand that? How do you set a boundary that you will no longer talk to them if they continue to do what they are doing? How do you walk away when you know they are just hurting? At what point do you call it quits? Where is the end? How do you walk that line when they are adults? Do you still take the calls knowing they only call when they want money or need something – just so you at least know they are ok and still alive? Do you always have to be there? No matter what? How do you manage mental health issues and not wanting them to suffer alone? How much do you take before you say, “I need a little space right now.”
They’ve spent years trying to put doubt in my mind, in other’s minds, in their own minds. They’ve yelled, lied, whispered behind my back, manipulated the people closest to me. I have been told by one of them that “[her] only goal is to steal my joy and make everyone know I am a horrible person.” She has said that she is jealous of me loving God, and my ability to find joy even in sad times, and that she wants to take that away. Jasmine says her life will be complete when she does that. Nothing personal there.
What makes me the saddest is I can’t do anything about it. I can’t do anything about the lies to perfect strangers who then spread those lies to others. I mean, who doesn’t love a good gossip fest that shows how someone couldn’t possibly do what you said people can do. Love 16 kids? No way that’s possible. Have enough time and energy for a large family? Never in a million years. Get everyone to appointments and make sure they are taken care of? “Impossible.”
I can’t do anything about the doubt they’ve put in the minds of those who know me and those who don’t know me. Once you put doubt in someone’s mind… that doubt stays. It doesn’t magically disappear. It’s always there. People will always wonder if maybe that person, that I am, is not the same person in private as I am when I am in public.
I make it a point to be the same person no matter where I am. In private or in public, I want to be authentic. I want others to know me. I am not perfect. I am so far from perfect. I fail often, but the good news is: I serve a loving, perfect God who never fails. Since my 20s I have known exactly who I want to be and have worked very hard to be that person. I have five phrases that I have strived to be since that time:
- To love God with my whole heart, soul, and mind
- To be trustworthy and to keep my promises
- To be joyful in good and bad times
- To be kind to everyone
- To be generous and not expect anything in return
If you ask those same four, who have been ready to destroy me, they will tell you those attributes are true. They will say they can’t prove I am anything but that. Yet they will tell others that I am not there for them. I don’t do anything for them. They were “mean” to me when they were a teen and I just can’t let it go. It seems personal to work so hard to be that kind of person. To spend your whole life trying to be as kind and generous and forgiving and loving as you can be only to have others try to destroy you. Don’t say it’s not personal. It’s very, very personal.
I’ve been reading a lot about narcissism. I will be the first to admit that I absolutely stink at being a “gray rock”. A narcissist’s favorite weapon is trying to make the other person look crazy. I’ve fallen for that too many times. I am a natural fixer. I don’t want anyone sad. I am an empath. I can’t count the number of times I have comforted them while they were crying about being so mean to me. I always have hope. I try to always believe the best in people. I want to teach all the time. I always think if I could just find the right way to explain it. The right video. The right talk. The right reel then they would finally understand. I have spent my life being the go-between for them and everyone they are fighting, and I end up losing all around. I constantly got pulled back into conversations where I was thinking we were fixing stuff only to end up being manipulated and I hurt the people who I was trying to get to forgive them. It was a lose/lose situation.
I’ve recently learned more about boundaries. Who knew that a boundary is not telling someone else what they can’t do but telling them what you will do if they continue to do the thing you’ve asked them not to do. I recently set boundaries on how to treat me. The request is so little it’s almost laughable. Treat me politely. Treat me how you would treat a stranger you met at Wal-Mart. The bar is so low you could trip over it. Here’s an example of one of those hard to live with boundaries I have set:
I have continuously told one child to not text or call, unless it’s an emergency, after 10 p.m. In fact, have told everyone of my children this. I even explained to everyone how one of my children has figured how to send delayed texts, so that they don’t come through until 7 a.m. Amazing! Lainey doesn’t sleep well. I am 61-years-old and have a hard time with not getting enough sleep. Lainey wakes up anywhere between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m. If you call me at 10, and I can’t get right back to sleep? I’m doomed. Well, said person was warned over and over again not to do it – all my children have been warned! I finally got so frustrated that I said, “Do it again and I’ll block you.” You can just call the home number or dad’s number to get a hold of me. On July 4th, when I was wished a “Happy 4th of July” at 11:45 p.m., after so many warnings, so many boundaries: I blocked them. She is now mad and has not tried to contact me any other way to reconcile. Why? Because I blocked her. I am the bad person who set a boundary and kept it. That’s ok. I’m all about protecting me and my health now.
I’ve learned another new thing. If someone cares about you: you do not have to beg them to do something. Did you know that? If you tell them once, that should be enough. If you have to tell them twice to clarify what you are saying, that’s ok. But if you have to tell someone three, four, five times?… you are begging. That one really got me. The reel I watched said, “Stop begging people to love you.” I thought about that for a while. I realized I am not begging them to love me. I am absolutely being 100% honest when I say they don’t have to love me. I understand that the “mother” aspect is hard for them. I just need them to be polite. I realized after much thought that I was begging because I want them to want family. I want them to not walk away from family and support and caring. The begging isn’t for me. It’s for family. It’s for what they lose if they walk away from the people who could be in their corner for the rest of their lives.
But guess what else I learned? Not everyone wants a family or can handle being in a family. That’s ok. It’s ok for them to go and do what they feel is best for them.
I’m done begging. My new phrase is “Just go do you. Just, please, do it over there.” I will continue to pray that my children grow and learn and heal and find purpose in their lives. I don’t want anything bad for my children. I pray they find what they are looking for. I pray they have happy lives full of contentedness. I just want some peace. The drama over absolutely nothing is wrecking havoc on my body – my 61-year-old body that gets four hours of sleep due to Lainey. So I’ll do me. You do you. I’ll be here waiting in case you ever want to make our relationship a priority. I’ll be here if you ever decide to reconcile and not just expect me to get over everything without ever talking about it. I’ll be over here holding out hope that someday you want those same things for me too.
