Diversion. Road Closed Ahead
Humans don’t come with an instruction manual, however, it was pointed out to me recently that I probably do. I’ll try to explain that.
Since the almighty mental dive I had in 2023, the book and all the other ‘work’ I have done on myself in the time that has gone by since, you would be forgiven for thinking that I am in great cognitive shape. I’m not entirely sure that I am.
I believe my adoption has built this thing I call “me” out of Lego (Legos, if you're an American, for some reason). That's fine, we are all constructed from a collection of parts. If you’re lucky, those individual bricks have made something that resembles the picture on the box, for me, and potentially lots of adoptees, our superstructure is human-shaped, but is probably made from a Lego set with the Starwars Death Star or something from the space Lego range on the box instead. From a distance, it sort of looks acceptably human, but when you break it down, some parts should make a planet-destroying laser gun, or a space port instead of a person.
When it comes down to my adoption, I’ve not struggled with connecting to birth family (I just chose not to connect), the lack of mirroring in my adopted family, or even getting too upset about the unlawfulness of adoption in general, as some adopted people have. I am in no way devaluing these ideas by saying so; they are extremely important to those whose lives are troubled by such things, and my solidarity with them holds no bounds. My biggest issues are to do with relationships, getting close to people. Well, no. That's not accurate … staying close to people is perhaps a better description of my problems. What I think I have done here is not face my human connection issues head-on, deconstruct them, and lay them to rest once and for all; I have not done that at all. Instead, I’ve opened all the little plastic bags full of Lego Wally parts, perused the instruction book, then turned the box over and just made it up as I went along, then, sort of ‘free hand’, made a ‘Me’ out of it all.
Consequently, because my blocks are forced together in ways they aren't designed to be, I feel I would come apart more easily. If I let someone handle me for too long, bits of me will start coming apart, breaking away in their hands. Because the instructions weren't adhered to, it might be impossible to know where the blocks fit back in.
I now say things like, “people are alright, but they are overrated,” or “I just like my own company”. If I’m invited out somewhere, I can always find a reason not to go. If I do, then I'll drive there myself, so I can leave whenever I want or when I feel like I've had enough of the humans I’m with. This is of course one big ‘fuck off’ of a diversion away from the truth.
So, what is the truth?
Well, I’ve thought about this a lot, and it is thus … I am cordoned off, like a child's vomit down the freezer aisle, or B-road pothole maintenance. Here’s hoping when someone finally does get the other side of the cordon, they are handy with a mop.
The opening paragraph to this, when I said I was told I come with an instruction manual, is not quite correct, the person who pointed it out was, of course, referring to my book, but I think it's more like a troubleshooting guide, full of cryptic ‘How to’.
If you are an adoptee and recognise anything of yourself in this, have you overcome any of it? If so, get in touch. Or share it in the comments below, I'd love to know.
Photo by Mark König on Unsplash
