I’ve spent this whole week bracing myself for tomorrow. There’s a family event that I’m debating on going to, part of me wants to see everyone but the other part of me doesn’t want to be around children. I love those kids dearly, but seeing them run around looking for Easter eggs and sneaking candy without my kiddo there sounds like torture. This year my child is old enough to participate in things like that. I can imagine all of the kids doting their youngest cousin if I let myself think on it, but the sting of adoption doesn’t let me think about it for very long.
It seems like the grief gets worse each year instead of better. The lies that the agency told me about the first year being the hardest echo in my mind when I’m incapacitated by another holiday. The lies of “you’ll be happy just because your child is happy!” were the hardest to deal with at first. I have felt so much guilt in the past because I just couldn’t let myself be happy about the adoption. I am slowly learning that I can love my child and their adoptive family without loving adoption. I can separate the two and continue to spread the word about adoption trauma.
So, I’ll keep reminding myself that I can survive this holiday, just life I’ve survived all of the past ones. I’ll wake up tomorrow and judge my feelings on going. I probably will go and be miserable for a bit. I’ll call my mom in the bathroom and cry about how unfair adoption is.
I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy a holiday again. My guess is that unless I’m on a visit during a holiday, that answer is no.