How is it possible that I feel everything and yet feel absolutely nothing at the same time?
I feel lost and disconnected. It’s like I could stare at the walls for hours on end and still feel absolutely everything and nothing all at once—and still not figure out how that’s even possible.
I always wonder. I wonder where I truly came from. I wonder what they look like. I wonder why.
Mostly, I just really wonder why.
When I’m out in public, I can’t help but stare at people. It’s my way of getting away from my own demons and nightmares. It’s my way of trying to think about anything other than how fucked up or depressed or stressed out I’m feeling at the moment. It’s my way of escaping the reality that I am forcefully shoved into.
I stare at people. I look at them and wonder what they’re thinking. I think about their smiles and laughter and wonder if they’re genuine. I think about the kid up on his Dad’s shoulders. I think about the child cradled in his mother’s embrace.
And then I think about my own biological parents and just keep wondering why. So in a way, I’m not really escaping my reality. I’m really just forcing myself into thinking about it more and more.
People who are adopted are often thankful. Of course, if it weren’t for their adoptive parents, they wouldn’t be where they are (given that they were provided with a good life). And for the most part, I am grateful because really, I wouldn’t be where I am or who I am now if it weren’t for everything that they did for me.
Still, at the back of my head, I am haunted by this unwavering fact that I really, honestly, do not know who in the hell I am. I don’t know where I came from; I don’t know who I came from.
I know some people would say that it shouldn’t matter at this point, but it does. It just does.
I was abandoned by my own flesh and blood and I should be furious at them for doing it to me and to some extent, I think I am. Then I just constantly find myself thinking about them and then again, wondering why. But I’m also frustrated and hurt and torn at the fact that the people who supposedly chose me, never really chose me (if that even makes sense).
I grew up living in between nannies. I grew up fending for myself and fighting for myself because there’s no one else to lean on but that person I see when I look in the mirror. I grew up not knowing what it actually feels like to have a family of my own. I grew up not having any real connection with the people I call my parents.
It’s hard because not only did I grow up alone (being that I’m an only child), I also grew up feeling alone. And I suppose that’s where this huge wall in front of me came from. I’ve just felt so alone for a really long time that I don’t know how I could possibly have any real connection with anyone that I somehow built this wall and confined myself in the four corners of it.
I have friends who I consider family. I have had partners in the past who meant the world to me. And I have a partner now that I see my entire future with.
At the end of the day though, I still have this constant feeling of being detached. That feeling of having absolutely no connection at all to anyone I know.
And it sucks. That feeling sucks. It just sucks the life out of everything that I almost always end up being depressed.
I try, as much as I can, to take care of my relationships. But there are times when I just drop off the face of the Earth because I am consumed by my own thoughts and nightmares. And I honestly don’t know what I should do or who I should confide in when it happens.
So I do the best that I can. I write. I write and I cry until it all just goes away.