Stop making excuses and make change

Submitted by Tricia Gilmore

It is a day I recall clearly, which is odd, considering I was only five years old. The sun was shining and country music playing on the garage radio as I went through a familiar routine of car washing with my adoptive father. My job was to clean the inside of the car windows and as I watched my adoptive father through the rear window, I recall viewing the scene as if I were an outsider. At that moment it hit me that I was in the wrong place with the wrong people. It was a feeling I would never be able to shake because it was true, I was in a very bad place with very bad people.

My dream of having a loving family was shattered at a very early age after being adopted by two people who should have been denied the privilege of adopting children due to their psychological instability. My childhood horrors began around the age of four when I began being molested at the hands of my alcoholic, adoptive father. The molestation, inappropriate behavior and mental abuse continued for many years. My adoptive mother was aware of the molestation and as I became a teenager, her resentment toward me had grown to be insurmountable.

My home life was a deep, dark secret that my church-going, volunteering, adoptive parents worked very hard to conceal. As I became a teenager I wondered about my birth parents and felt drawn to finding them. I possessed an incredibly strong sense of their love and need for me as much as I needed them.

After leaving home at a relatively young age in order to find stability, I began to struggle with my inner demons as a result of the past I worked hard to suppress. I maintained a strained relationship with my adoptive parents for many years, trying to paint the Norman Rockwell painting and pretend everything was fine, all to no avail. In an effort to exhibit some control in my life, I masked the pain with drugs and alcohol. I engaged in a life of promiscuity, excessive exercising, bulimia, and anorexia until one day a dear friend of mine told me that he could fall in love with me but I was such a mess he wouldn’t allow himself to do so. I was struck in that moment and realized I would lose my chance to have everything I wanted if I did not find a way to pull it together. That friend not only saved my life, but became my husband.

After having children, the impact of my adoptive parent’s behavior grew worse. My adoptive mother always told me when I had children someday I would understand the reasons for some of her irrational decisions. Well, I had three children and her behavior not only did not make sense, it made me furious. The traumatic images of my past began haunting me. As hard as I tried to pretend they did not exist, it finally become overwhelming and was time to tell the secret I held for over 30 years. It was time to let the truth out and begin the true healing process for myself, my husband and my children.

After my disclosure of sexual abuse and my adoptive father’s admission of guilt, my adoptive mother made the choice to stay with her husband. To make herself feel better, she began to play damage control within her extended family. As the word spread of my supposed “false accusations”, two other family members came forward to say they not only believed me, they knew I was telling the truth because my adoptive father had molested them as well. Their stories were very similar to mine although we had never discussed the situation. This discovery was a major turning point for me because it made me realize that he was indeed, a pedophile. In that moment, it was as if every thought and feeling I ever had about him and my abnormal childhood was finally validated. This prolonged, mentally abusive situation made me doubt all I was certain I had remembered. After all the pain and mental anguish, I was finally able to see that I did not do anything to solicit this behavior. Not as a five year old, not as a teenager and not as a young adult. I never imagined it happened to anyone else. I was stunned to realize I was not the only victim. I finally possessed the strength and courage to let my adoptive family know of my desire to become permanently estranged. I was finally free.

I have spent countless days and hours in reflection since discovering additional family members were molested. I cannot help but wonder how many more innocent children were forever impacted by the man I called Daddy for so many years. In my heart I knew I had a difficult childhood but I never allowed myself to truly comprehend the magnitude of it all. I learned to convince myself it was not that bad as a mode of survival. It was not until I became an adult I was able to clearly see how significantly I had been damaged by my childhood experiences. I pride myself on my strength but as I grow older I realize that to demonstrate true strength requires the ability to display and overcome weakness.

I began searching for my biological parents many times over the years but became overwhelmed to learn the task was quite daunting. During my search I had many doors closed. I was told by the adoption agency that if my parents wanted to be found they would have contacted the agency and both had yet to do so. I never believed that to be true. Somehow, I knew what was in their hearts.

I would make calls to gather information and was often treated like an irrelevant human being with no rights. As my search would get off track, I would return to one simple thought; that my birth parents needed me as much as I needed them.

At one point I hired an expensive search agency and thought I was finally on my way. During the process I realized I was being beguiled and ultimately I would have to search on my own if I intended to be successful. I narrowed down my search and became relentless in my pursuit. After many weekends spent in the library, on the phone and searching the internet, I was fairly certain I had finally discovered my mom’s name.

I trembled as I dialed the number to what I believed could be her parents home. A very sweet older woman answered the phone; unbeknownst to me it was my grandmother. I inquired about my mother and the sweet woman gave me her phone number. I quickly hung up and dialed. I’ll never forget the conflicting sense of disbelief and peace I felt simultaneously. This moment I dreamt of had finally arrived and now that I was in this moment it was all too surreal. After I dialed, a soft but steely voice answered and I began my series of questions to determine if I had the right woman. Finally I asked, “Are you my mother”? For what seemed like an eternity but was more like a minute, there was silence on the other end of the line. To my relief, the shock wore off and she told me “Today was a very good day, a day she had been waiting on for 36 years”. Both she and my father never had any other children. Being persuaded by their parents to give me up for adoption had shattered both of their lives. They both confessed to wanting to find me but felt conflicted about honoring the commitment they made not to interfere in my life after my adoption. During my first conversation with my mother, I nervously kept myself occupied and opened mail while we chatted. One envelope was from the very search agency I had hired. They were writing to inform me that in conclusion to their 15 month investigation, they believed it would be impossible to locate my parents. How ironic.

As my relationship develops with my mother and her family, we continue to uncover many ironies, some of which still give us goose bumps. As an example, we discovered that we spent seven years living in the same close-knit summer community. I walked past her house every day to go to the beach. Oddly enough the beach was my favorite place and home to my most fond memories. I have to believe my love for the summer and that beach was based on feeling my mother’s love nearby.

I always visualized my parents as I believed them to be. I pictured my mother with her family celebrating holidays in a traditional manner and having class and elegance. I pictured her to be sensitive, loving and caring. I based these thoughts solely on what I felt in my heart. I pictured my father to be incredibly sensitive and a bit of a rebel. All of these visualizations have come to be more of the reality than just mere fantasies of a child with an active imagination.

My mother says that about five days before I found her she began to feel an incredible sense of inner peace and happiness she had never felt before. When I called she was afraid to believe it was true. As we continue to develop our amazing bond, I now understand that true motherly love can transcend all boundaries.

I am finally in a place of peace and true happiness. I owe this newfound happiness to my incredibly loving husband who has never given up on me, despite all of the challenges we have faced together and who provided me with my three beautiful children. I am also especially thankful to my “new” family, my real family. They welcomed me without hesitation and for that I am truly grateful. They share memories and provide love for me and my children. I am so blessed to finally be home.

I hope my story will empower abuse victims to trust their instincts in knowing they are not at fault for what they have experienced. Abuse has many forms and many faces and happens in every social class. I also hope to provide inspiration for adoptees searching for their biological families to never give up and to follow their heart. The journey for happiness may be a long and winding road, but it is possible to achieve. I know this to be true because I am an example that there is happiness on the other side. Years of therapy and the realization of unconditional love has transformed my life. Never give up, believe in yourself and know that you deserve good things and they will come to you.

Submitted by Tricia Gilmore on October 26^th, 2010