Mrs Woolf

Some weeks ago I was last here and it seems a lifetime, when blogging has been a daily event, enjoyed , relished even at times. There has never been a shortage of topics in adoptionland with so many areas to look at – the politics of adoption, the ethics, the practices, the selection and preparation of potential adopters, the experiences of adoptees, the adventures and ventures of adult adoptees surviving in the real world, the effects of adoption on adoptees through the decades, the myths of adoption as perpetuated by non-adoptees, mothers, adopters et al, stigma and it’s effects, disempowerment, adoptism, the acknowledgement of the work and journey of other adoptees and the investigation of one’s own life, adoption and survival. That is hardly the tip of the iceberg and many adoptees are also activists working hard for change in their own countries, keeping in touch with other adoptees through Facebook and twitter in the community which is worldwide and has been so helpful and rewarding for so many. There is also life to be lived, children to raise, family to be involved with, work and maybe writing, journalling, therapy or counselling, which attempt to make sense of adoption in our lives – for some it is “Who am I?” “Where did I come from?”, “Who are my relatives?” Life as an adoptee is a busy one, with much going on under the surface for most of us. We so often hear non-adoptees explain about their relatives, or an adoptee they know, who is happy with their adoption, never talks about it or asks questions about it and is assumed to be content, to have no problems with it and to experience no dilemmas. In real life I have never heard of such an adoptee. Some take many years, decades even to understand the effect adoption has had on them, the effects of the loss of a mother and the trauma of losing her at such an early age, often pre-language. Those who profess to know only happy adoptees are not seeing the whole picture, may need to wait as long as thirty or forty years before the effects become apparent. Even then they may remain hidden, unshared because inhospitable situations are not conducive to sharing such sensitive, often painful information and feelings.
I am back I hope, from a break which was unannounced and unexpected. I had minor surgery 5 or so weeks ago and am healing well although had to be treated for a recurrence of the infection which started everything off in the first place. It was tedious and I have felt under the weather, very lacking in energy and unenthusiastic about anything that remotely resembled work. I have had the daily attentions of the wonderful District Nurses who brightened my day and did a marvellous job. They are now visiting only 3 times a week and I feel I have my freedom back! I can come and go as I please, read all day without getting dressed and do those things retired folk enjoy – a bit of pottering in the courtyard, listening to the birds sing, falling asleep to podcasts and sitting here at my work table admiring the sea, watching out for the old man kangaroo who ambles by some days. I am typing up a life story, or part of it for someone I’ll probably never meet ( a volunteer job I’m helping with) and rereading a manuscript you’ll all be able to read soon when it’s published by one of our fellow adoptees, so I’m still ignoring that family history my Daughter wants me to write because it’s all too complicated for her to remember. It needs a family tree to go with the stories and descriptions and that is involved especially on one side, the one from which I get my name and where I am directly descended from a large biological family which is fairly well documented – I’m very lucky, so not complaining and I have records and my past investigations to use. Maybe the approaching Winter will be conducive for such work. A change of season is often what we’re waiting for. I’m reminded of my American friends who joke about the dog being happy when the snow melts so he can find all his toys again.
I love the change of seasons, the colours and the drama of it. I love the change of food too and look forward to the warming dishes of cold days – leek, potato and bacon hotpot an old favourite; comforting meaty dishes sending out delicious aromas from the slow cooker all the day. I might even get to read all the books I have on the Kindle, waiting for shorter days and cosy fires.vw On things literary, I was drawn into on of those “Find out” quizzes on Facebook the other week, this one about what author you were most like, perhaps you did it too! I discovered I was like Virginia Woolf, an old favourite and it was said –
You’re not daunted by women who are brilliant but emotionally fragile. On the contrary, you’re selfless and kind enough to want to really nurture someone and support their illustrious career. Yours is a truly deep love because it is a love of the mind, and it will surpass all the hours. There’s truth in it and it certainly gave me pause for reflection._40005413_woolf203x250


2 thoughts on “Mrs Woolf

  1. Yes, you are so much a “Woolf”!
    Happy to see you emerging again. Fall is the time for recentering, coocooning, recharging and all those wonderful crockpot dinners.
    Let your body direct you and continue to heal.
    Namaste Von

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