Read Our Stories

I've been doing some adoption research and have found some interesting data, if you go to youtube.com you can go to RT today channel and they have a couple of videos in regards to national and international adoption, in 2010 Russia just ended their adoption relationship with America, 5 Russian children were murdered and 19 cases of severe child abuse (children being burned). China as well has greatly restricted American couples to chinese children.

The World Health Organization (you can Google for more info) has reported that as of 2005 America has a real acceptance of adoption where as other countries do not, according to their findings out of every 100 live births in America 3 babies are adopted, where as western Europe has out of 100 live births only one is adopted, so this explains fascist People magazine publishing celebrity adoption presenting a false portrait of adoption.

A woman advocate, I can't remember her name, wrote a book called Chosen children (I think) you can find it on Amazon.com I tried to read it on the way to Dublin but it was too disturbing for me to read.

I would also like to extend public gratitude to the organization in NY for attempting to sue the Catholic church in regards to the priest sex abuse cover-up at The Hague, my own sex abuse was covered up by my Catholic adoptive parents and I was adopted through the Catholic church

I all hope you doing ok...smile it helps..

I was adopted in the 60's. Born in a small clinic in the midwest.
I was adopted at birth by two people from the appalchians, it was hell from day 1.
When I cried I was smacked, my mother said I cried on purpose, trying to get attention. I was an ill baby , allergic to milk and my tummy always hurt , always throwing up. This didnt sit well with my mother, her remedy was to give me more to what ever I was allergic too.
My earliest memory was her holding me on her lap and restraining me, forcing me to eat, if i fell asleep during my feeding I was rudely shaken awake. I have scars on my face where she has pinched my cheeks to hold food in my mouth so I wouldnt spit it out.
My toddler years consisted of being thron out of the crib onto the floor busting out my teeth and giving me two black eyes, my leg was broken because my mom said I fell off the bed, I was always being chased, hit or force fed.
AS I became older, I was always told I was ugly, and I acted stupid. I was tied up by my ankles to a bed post and stripped of my pants and under garments, my mom then sat across the small of my back so I couldnt reach around to stop her from beating my butt with a shoe heel, a thick wooden paddle this all the while stuffing my dads tube socks in my mouth so I couldnt scream. This beating would go on until her fury drained out of her and I was left bleeding through my bruses. Before any type of beating she would walk through the house closing windows so the neighbors wouldnt hear.
She stood me in a corner naked and flipped me with rubber bands, put my feet in a frying pan on the stove. Made me eat dish soap and whenever i had chapped lips she would put hot pepper sauce on them.
When she was potty training me, she would make me sit on the toliet for hours. During summer vacation she would get me up, feed me breakfast and then make me stand in the corner until it was time to go to bed that night , usually standing 13 hours or more a day.
She beat me ( along with my father) on my female private parts with a paddle or a paint stirrer, and when it was bruised, she would remark...." look , your pee-pee is wearing lipstick." She then would apply muscle rub to my genitalia. This happened more than once.

I think she was posining me, I had sores all over my body, my tongue always had red bumps and my nails had white spots on them. I was always very sick to my stomach, but I was never allowed to rest, I had to stand in that corner very ill. Sickness was a sign of weakness.
She didnt like it when I had to go to the hospital. She took me out and brought me home. She would wrap me up in bed sheets with an peroxide or alcohol solution with all of those open sores on my body, it hurt so bad!! then she stood me in front of the window air unit. She would make me stand there for hours. I would freeze and shake.
At night when I was sleeping, she would come in and scream at me that I wasnt sleeping in my bed correctly and then she would grab me by the hair and throw me to the ground. I wasnt allowed to have friends and I couldnt play with my toys, I either stood in the corner all day or sat in the corner of my room.

I was tested at school and they wanted to put me in a gifted class and she told them no. So when I got home after school, she would take away my books and not let me do homework, so I would flunk out. See? she said, your not so smart.
She made me clean the bathroom with my tongue, she wrapped me up in my dads thermal shits and tied my hands behind my back like a straight jacket. She made me eat a whole cake and a bottle of ketchup.
She would make me stand and make faces at myself in the mirror. She would send me to my room to cry and when I stopped she would come in with a belt,extension cord. She was also known to punch me in the stomach.
I had a horrible life, I was always afraid, afraid to sleep, afraid to speak. And my dad would just go along with it.
I still suffer.
I am trying.

Im 53 yrs old @ I guess. I've always been an orphan even though I was adopted
my adoptive. mom was a high class alcoholic. who always told me @ my sister we were damaged goods @ the held the courts responcible. for a bad match up we went right for her dad was a wonderful man but was scared and controlled by this evil women
after we left home he was the only one around to blame and abuse she continued her abuse of him until his death. a it ago this week at age 87
Dad asked for forgivness 5 months before he passed for not being a stronger role model saying he failed us as a father. Which is true but I don't blame him and never did
they were married 62 yrs but there was no seeded bliss she was hateful hurtful and terribly verbally abusive and also physically abusive
dad left us some money 30,000 yr for rest of our lives mom passed waY 6 months later but 2 and before. she Chandra the family trust leaving us 10,000 @ if we challenged the will we got nothing
she never worked a job in her life dad provided very well for her what he didn't think of going for her. she would demand and would get but dad kept refusing to cut us totally out of a 2.5 million collar estate. but in the end she pretty much got her way

I sat at data because the last 6 days of his life. she wouldn't even visit. her husband of 62 yrs.

I find myself wanting to b with my father so bad. I'm just so tired of this lonely life. I just don't feel like I've ever belonged anywhere and don't think at 53 I problem never will
u learn to get by through the yrs but the loneliness of abuse never leaves even after the abuser is gone from this earth

  I hope some day to write a book on surviving adoption and stay tuned for my Teenage Guide to surviving sex abuse.

 I'm homeless again and probaly won't make it through winter, ironically I walk pass an adoption agency everyday to read my book, not inspired by Occupy Wallstreet, but i'm going to picket the place because it makes me sick.

Evidently these people are ashamed of who they are, the plaque sign out front reads ***ption agency, they don't even have the balls to advertise there business and spell it out and the place is covered with video surveillence, because the wicked need to always watch their backs.

Sign A will read  "GET A REAL JOB!"

Sign B will read "Stop selling children."

My female adopter was a very strict, stoic, cold, quiet, unhappy, miserable person. 

I remember the first time she told my abro and I that she wished that she had never adopted us.  I was about 6 or 7 my abro was about 8 or 9.  As a little girl I remember thinking, I wonder if my real mom would take me back? Does she even know where I am?  When my little mind couldn't answer those questions, I tried to figure out how to make my female adopter happy, how could I make her love me? I got straight A's in school, perfect attendence, always kept my room clean, helped around the house with chores, everything I could think of to gain her love and approval.

To be honest I really can't remember what we did that would make her so upset with us. She would be yelling at us about whatever, and then she would collapse on the floor, like she was having a heart attack!!  My abro and I would be down on our knees trying to see if she was OK and she would say, just let me die.  We felt so guilty!! Like we had done this to her! Like we had killed her!!

This became a regular practice of hers. She wouldn't ever let us call anyone, or tell our male adopter. We had to keep it a secret. I remember each and every time feeling like we were so horrible, that we were killing her!!  It was all our fault!!  I would work even harder in school, try to cheer her up with happy things, like coloring her a picture or making her an art project. It never worked.

As we got older she would threaten to kill herself and us.  Her favorite threat was in the car. She would say she is just going to run into that tree or light pole and hope that we all died.  Or drive off of a bridge, or close the garage door and let the exhaust put us all to sleep for good.  I was terrified of her.  But yet somehow I felt sorry for her, and like I was a complete failure, that something terrible was wrong with me!!

By the time I was 12, and had confronted my male adopter about his sexual molestation, I also got to the place when the female adopter would throw herself on the floor, I would walk away and say, well...if you're not gonna let us call anyone, just die then.  Or when she would threaten to kill us all in a car accident I would say, OK, just stop the car and let me out first.  I don't know where this strength came from, I just really didn't care what happened to me.

She would also threaten to send us back to the adoption agency.  Yet when we would ask about our natural mother, she would get angry and defensive and say something like, what makes you think she would want you. She already got rid of you once.  I got to the place where I would say, please, let's call the adoption agency and see if they will take me back.

Of course once she saw that her manipulation wasn't working with me (which, sadly, to this day her manipulation still works on my 49 year old abro).  She took a different tack.  She began to demean me. I became a daily drug user, my grades began to slip and I got pregnant at 16.

I was adopted when I was 6 months old, and was told that the reason they chose me was because the day they took me home for a day visit I reached out to the male adopter when he went to return me to the foster provider.  So because I wanted him, he wanted me.
 
I was daddy's little girl. I loved him so much. I felt safe in his arms, slept on his chest, sat on his lap, held his hand, went wherever he went. He was my hero.
 
At the age of 5 my adopters told me that I was adopted.  I think I experienced my first panic attack!! I said "Does my mommy miss me?  Is she sad? Is she gonna come and get me?  I don't belong here!!"  They tried to reassure me that I was theirs now, that I was special, that they chose me and they loved me.
 
The very next day my daddy that I loved very much came into my bedroom, I was fully dressed, and scooped me up in his arms, told me how special I was and the he loved me very much. Then he kissed me and put his tongue in my mouth!! It was yucky!!! It was strange!!!  Then he proceeded to fondle me down there, first on the outside of my panties then on the inside.  I felt sick to my stomach, yet, this was my hero who loved me, that I loved, it must be OK, just weird!! He told me that all daddies did this with their little girls.
 
This continued for 7 years on a daily basis. Of course it progressed to oral sex, him on me, and me on him, several attempts at intercourse, but he didn't want to hurt me, he was always gentle. But, he always told me that I was going to be his first. 
 
He also encouraged me to teach my friends how to have an orgasm, in hopes of bringing them home for a three or foursome. This is the part I am most ashamed of. In the 3rd grade I showed 2 of my friends how to masterbate. A shame I still carry today.
 
When I was 12 I had an older girlfriend that was also abused. She told me that what my male adopter was doing was wrong and that he should go to prison for what he's done.  I somehow knew that already, but coming to terms with the truth and the deception, the trauma was overwhelming.  But one day somehow, someway when he came into my room, like he did regularly, I just came right out and said that I knew what he was doing was wrong.  He just looked at me.  Then he sat down on my bed, made me set beside him and he apologized!! He went into some sick explaination that my female adopter wasn't meeting his needs and that he felt loved by me and some other bullshit that I can't remember, because I just tuned him out!!  Then he said he wanted me to continue to keep our secret, and he wouldn't touch me again, BUT if I changed my mind to let him know!!  Prick!
 
My female adopter was a cold, distant, emotionally and verbally abusive bitch. She never told my abro or me that she loved us, never hugged us, never read us stories, nothing. She was a strict perfectionist, and we never came up to her standards. 
 
She walked in on my male adopter molesting me at least 3 if not 4 times, and had the look of shock, disgust, and disbelief, but never did anything about it. I have no idea what my male adopter told her.
 
After that she started telling my abro and I that she wished she never adopted us and that adopting us was the biggest mistake she'd ever made.  That she chose a couple of lemons when she chose us.
 
My male adopter has since died, and I no longer have a relationship with my female adopter.

  The worst disadvantage for adopted children is the intelligence variable. My adopted mother and I were not in the 10 point ratio required to have even a limited conversation, my adopted father was a Notre Dame/University of Virginia grad but saw women as inferior, submissive and not intellectually equal, typical catholic sexism and also a symptom of low IQ.

 The largest distraction in my mother's personality was the litany of contradictions, she was always 40 pounds overweight but tried to "look nice," she had yellow teeth but wore David Yurman jewelry, she always wore colors that were bright pink or peach, fucking pastels! Insert scene where Morticia Addams chastising Debbie after placing Fester under "some strange-sexual spell." The worst criticism for a women is to be tacky or low class, and she was. She started a fake flower business and sold these HORRID flower arrangements when after a month dust collects on them. Her personality was flat, she read Danielle Steele and watched soap operas, but SEX WAS BAD, only a low IQ degenerate barbarian can sit through a daytime soap opera, while I liked poetry and could memorize my vocabulary words in 50 seconds flat.

I'm a nun and your my son.

Don't enjoy breathing or seeing.

don't enjoy food.

Don't enjoy writing

don't enjoy singing

don't enjoy bathing.

make sure you're like everyone else.

don't enjoy looking in the mirror.  don't enjoy touching or massaging yourself, or anyone else.  don't enjoy the smell of my own self-flesh.  don't enjoy working.  don't enjoy cleaning.  don't enjoy creating.  don't enjoy destroying.  don't enjoy laughing.  no having a good time in church.  no thinking of being at church while at the ocean.  1984 is not allowed at church.  no flicking cigarettes.  no taking educated guesses.  no believing in sprituality.  no thinking of my flesh and blood as a good thing.  always feel like a stalker.  never be romantic.  no thinking of stranger as being able to pray for you.  no enjoying wiping shit onfff my ass. 

no thinking. 
no seeing an evil sprity for what it is
I lov eyou.

no losing things
no forgetting where things are.
no puttinhg thing in perspective.

no fast food.

your not allowed to be alive.
always respond to evil spriits when they ask you questions in an evil way.

no breaking bottles outside.;
no breaking the rules
no calling the woman you love. 
nothinkning of evil sprit as evil.  no calling out the sprity by its name.  no enjoying life. no no no
no loving life.
no breathing. 

I love you

always think of yourself as fat.
no nuzzling with the one you love.
no giving your child away to adoption
no thinking for yoursellf.
no thinking evil thoughts
no always thinking of adoption because you hate murder.
hate love.

love mercy killing
no smiling.

no making sounds

instrumentals

http://bumptiousmusic.com/

electronic with vocals.

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/01-Angry-Love.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/02-Cast-Down.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/03-Need-a-Thing.m4a
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/04-Make-Sense.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/05-Hope-Cant-See.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/06-A-Note.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/null/07-Still-Know.mp3
 

fascism and false doctrine is a common cold.

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/unreleased/07-Storm-Drain.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/unreleased/Staggerdrop.mp3

some movie scenes
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/sound-design/tech-scene.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/sound-design/tech-scene.mp3

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/mama-told-me.mp3

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/home.mp3

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/witch-devil-music.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/01-Out.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/back.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/hold-on-you.mp3

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/lake.mp3
http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/smoking-and-driving.mp3

http://www.commoncoldinc.com/music/bumptious/moose/yee.mp3

  I was showing signs of a dissociative disorder by the time I was in high school, I met this nice boy who was a year behind me and went to the same private school as me, we met at a party, we had a great time and laughed a lot, a week later I saw him at the Kenwood mall and had no idea who he was, (I was in an altered state, he thought I was crazy) later that year he approached me after the school play to come and live with his family, they knew things were really wrong, I rarely saw that face of motherly concern that his Mom had, they were the only people that tried to save me, I said no mostly due to youthful denials and I was caught in my adopted family's web of bullshit, I wish I could say thank you to this family for trying.

6 months later I entered a mental institution after having a nervous breakdown

  I was showing signs of a dissociative disorder by the time I was in high school, I met this nice boy who was a year behind me and went to the same private school as me, we met at a party, we had a great time and laughed a lot, a week later I saw him at the Kenwood mall and had no idea who he was, (I was in an altered state, he thought I was crazy) later that year he approached me after the school play to come and live with his family, they knew things were really wrong, I rarely saw that face of motherly concern that his Mom had, they were the only people that tried to save me, I said no mostly due to youthful denials and I was caught in my adopted family's web of bullshit, I wish I could say thank you to this family for trying.

6 months later I entered a mental institution after having a nervous breakdown

  I was showing signs of a dissociative disorder by the time I was in high school, I met this nice boy who was a year behind me and went to the same private school as me, we met at a party, we had a great time and laughed a lot, a week later I saw him at the Kenwood mall and had no idea who he was, (I was in an altered state, he thought I was crazy) later that year he approached me after the school play to come and live with his family, they knew things were really wrong, I rarely saw that face of motherly concern that his Mom had, they were the only people that tried to save me, I said no mostly due to youthful denials and I was caught in my adopted family's web of bullshit, I wish I could say thank you to this family for trying.

6 months later I entered a mental institution after having a nervous breakdown

"I have also seen children successfully surmounting

the effects of an evil inheritance.  That is due to purity

being an inherent attribute of the soul."

*Gandhi*

From my first memories after being adopted to three months ago, I was subjected to physical, mental, and emotional abuse.  Both my adoptive mom and dad took turns or simultaneously beat me with their hands, belts, and PVC pipes.  What was worse to me, and longer lasting, was the emotional abuse.  Whenever I did anything to displease my mom, she would tell me she's "had enough," and that she was going to return me to where I came from.  After a few years, she started to change her game.  She started telling me that she's "had enough," and she'd force me to get into the car and then proceed to drive me to the local police station.  At first, that would be enough to elicit a plea of "I'll be good!  I'll be better!" not really knowing what I did to upset her in the first place, and she'd take me home.  As I got older, she'd lock me out of the house, rain or shine, day or night.  I remember ringing the doorbell over and over again, and standing under my brother's window asking him to open the door for me.  He was so scared, he wouldn't.  To this day, I am angry that he didn't help me out, but somehow I also understand his situation.  My parents would also stop at a curb while driving and force me to get out and walk home.  Luckily, I was always a couple miles away from home, so I could walk home.  A few times, I didn't know where I was, so I sat down and waited for them to get me.  My parents used all these techniques to gut all self esteem, and all self worth for most of my childhood/teenage years.  It never occurred to me that I could tell someone.  My friend's mother found a note I'd written to my friend at school saying that I wanted to die, and would she like to die with me too.  I know my friend's mother talked to my mom, but my mom never talked to me about it.  I still wonder why no one could see through our outwardly "normal" family facade and help me.

When driving me to the police station didn't make me cry and plead anymore, she'd drop me off and drive away.  After a few times, I was so pissed and numb that I just walked in to the police station and told them my mom dropped me off.  I guess she got nervous because she'd walk in a few minutes later accusing me of hitting her, stealing, etc.  The whole police station tactic ended soon after.  In high school, she'd tell me that she'd had enough, and that one of us had to go, and she decided that it would be me.  So when she came back from the market, all my stuff had better be gone, and I needed to be out of the house.  Usually, I'd think about how to save myself by the time she came back, and I'd beg to stay, and she'd let me.  Keep in mind, I was a straight A student, very respectful, if very shy and socially awkward.  I have no idea to this day what set her off my whole life, or why she hated me so.  During my sophomore year in HS, on another day she kicked me out, I just decided to go somewhere.  I went to the liquor store across the street, called a helpline on the pay phone, and an organization for teens picked me up in the middle of the night.  My mom told all our friends and family that I had "run away."  She still does.  This organization facilitated counseling, and I stayed there for a month, but eventually things returned to their old ways.  Sometime during senior year, I had a boyfriend, and I told him that I felt like she was going to kick me out soon because she was following certain behavioral patterns that I had become extremely sensitive to.  My boyfriend asked his parents if I could live with them temporarily, if need be, and they agreed.  Sure enough, when my mom kicked me out, I surprised her by having somewhere to go, and I went to live with my boyfriend's parents.  She told all our family and friends that I had "run away" again.  She still maintains that I ran away, not that she kicked me out.

I put myself through college with student loans, and I'm a successful person.  I used to go home every Sunday and tried to be a "good daughter," and tried to make my mom happy.  She would ignore me when I was at home, and I always left feeling like I wanted to commit suicide.  It finally occurred to me that it would never get better, no matter what I did, and I cut off contact with my family.  It's extremely hard, but I knew I needed to do this for myself. I miss having a family, and although I created one through friends, it's not quite the same.  I am in contact with my brother now, who I intend to keep in touch with. We were both victims, in our own ways. I don't understand how my friends' parents, or my teachers could NOT see how much I was hurting.  I also don't understand how I survived and how I can possibly be a happy, confident, loving person now.  I'm not perfect, and I have issues stemming from my childhood, but I should be so much worse off. A wonderful therapist I saw as an adult once took my hand and told me, "Something inside you was strong enough to survive your childhood. That strength, which your mother recognized and hated, was also what made her attack you more. The fact that you fought back and never let her take your spirit is exactly what saved you from getting sucked into her twisted world." I carry these words with me, and I hope that her words can help you as well. Stay strong. We are all survivors.

the following is taken from a recent email to a dear friend who has asked me why i present my story using actual names and places.  this was my response:

i've been talking about what happened to me, when i was adopted by the atkinson family ever since 1959, when they had me illegally dis-owned and i was made a ward of the state of wisconsin and the judge assigned me a parole officer (even though i'd never been arrested for anything) and i was sentanced (as the only pregnant one) to a girls "reform home" in onalaska, wisconsin in june of 1959, for duration of my pregnancy.  the charges according to court records were that my grade point average had fallen from 3.8 to 3.4 in the previous semester, as the judge couldn't use pregnancy as reason for punishment or dismissing an adoption.  afather had influence in this town as he was editor/publisher of 2 daily newspapers there.  the judge (conner t. hanson) may have owed marshall atkinson a favor because court proceeding was 100% illegal.  i didn't find this out until 1982, when i sued marshall atkinson estate for unlawfully disowning me in 1959.  the court records reflect that i was sentanced to parole until age 21, and parole officer was told 2 weeks before trial that i was to be taken into custody at end of court session.  i didn't read this report until i am 40 years old and my attorneys found the file.  the lawyers took case all the way to wi. supreme court,

when over and over case was denied hearing because statute of limitations had expired.  what 16 year old would be aware of the legality of a court proceeding?  i was in school on day police officer took me to court, where proceedings had already begun, and notice of hearing was never given out.

the reform home was real hard to acclimate to, the girls there were hard to know.  my friends were  different  from the girls in this "home."  after my son tony was born, i didn't report to parole officer as required but instead moved with tony to chicago to work.  a week or so after arriving, i had notice of "non-compliance"posted on door signed by a parole officer.  that night tony and i left for ontario canada knowing if we made it we were safe from u.s. authorities.

sooooo...  i've talked about, written about, presented speeches about my experiences with the atkinson family since 1959.  if i hadn't told the story, who would have heard it???  i'm not ashamed of what happened to me, as if it were my fault, nor do i feel compelled to protect their identity does it "empower" me to say their names?  i don't think it does, mostly because their "names" mean so little to me~ i see them as sewer rats disguised as human beings, that's all...

i talk with abused kids every day of my life since at least 1965~every day i either work with them in my business (www.jstonecards.com) they are my artists here~ or i visit with these kids through different organizations across the country, because i am one of them just as surely as they are each one of me~ these precious "tossed out" kids are my kids, and our love is spot on with each other

because we know how it feels, and i know i will do all i can for as long as i live to protect these kids in any way i can.  so, without telling my story, who would have known?  thank you from my heart to each of you who reads these words i write~ what empowers me is the kids, everything else is just my old raggedy personal history, but none of it belongs to the atkinsons.  they were just the ones who gave me courage to do my life...after living with them for 13 1/2 years, getting to know them~nothing has ever scared me again. 

   I snuck out of the house once to hang out with this boy Jeff, from the neighborhood, when I came home my parents caught me, my father had me by the neck up against the wall with his fist back as if to punch me, luckily my adoptive mother stopped him.

 My adoptive brother was abused before I was, I remember crying in my room, terrified of the fighting downstairs, one night it escalated, my adoptive father hit my brother and gave him a bloody nose and my brother had to stay home from school, he never touched my brother again.

  They always knew to never to leave bruises.

how many times when i was growing up in this mansion with these terrifying (rich and socially prominant) people who adopted me, i would be told by friends or adult friends of the ones who adopted me, how lucky i was... being physically and mentally abused for 13 1/2 years, yet unable to tell anyone wasn't luck:  torture is torture and the only "luck" i felt i had once i was dis-owned by them when i was 16, was that i'd lived through it.

why no adult ever reported my obvious abuse still haunts me.  i've made up for it though~  i stand for ANY abuse on humanity that i can do something about, and this has nurtured me since the early '60's.  no one, under ANY circumstance has the right to abuse another being. 

this is what i've never been able to get my head around:  how does a mother who gives birth justify taking her child to "the dog pound?"  what's her rationalization for this?  she is too young maybe?  i was 16 when my son was born, i had 3 years of high school, no job yet, the state of wisconsin was prepared to take my child since i was a ward of the state after aparents dis-owned me.  i had no money, no relatives except my son and somehow i managed to get a job, save 35 bucks, and catch a bus to toronto canada because i knew if i got there, my son would be safe.  what makes any birth mother think her child will end up safe?  as far as my own reality of being adopted at 2 1/2 and living through the trauma of being raised and tortured  by maniacs,  this is a myth.

the other thing i don't understand is why the adoptee is made to feel that any sort of contact with their birthmother has to be handled with great care, so not to "disturb" this  birth mother's life...

please~  i personally think any birth mother who places her child for adoption because she is going to be "inconvenienced" by the event, and perhaps she needs to wait until her "real" life begins~ i think what she really needs is to be let go of the burden of re-production...  i think she needs to be

"spayed."     just my opinion, nothing personal...

 Those invisible Battle Scars are the ones that penetrate the deepest. I can recall the 2 most degrading hateful and cold hearted things my adoptive mom ever said to me. The 1st was the day my dad passed away It was July 17 1981 after 4 yrs of suffering from his stroke my adoptive dad surcome to his demise. Durning the years he was alive n cared for at home I spent hours propped next to him in his bed I read to him talked to helped feed him I was there every minute I could as long as my adoptive mom wasn't around She despised the fact that my dad n I where close to each other Between her envy jealousy and hatred she could see straight. When she got home from work I ran and hid anywhere I could n didn't dare make a sound. That never worked though she would seek me out like a heat sinking missle snag me up by my hair get in my face and scream at me. It was always imbisle you good for nothing thing You made your father sick Once her verbal assult was over the physical assult began Between the kicking ear pinching n twisting being flung around like a ragdoll slammed into furniture and severly bruised she would restrain me in my room only after she doped me up with Thorizine for the night. The day my dad passed I had not eaten for almost two day ( another favorite thing of hers) n I was never told he had died. On the way home I had to ask about eating a question I would regret.In a split second out of no where I felt the knuckles of her hand inpact the side of my face. The force of inpact dazed me for a moment and all I remember ringing in my ears was her blood curttling scream You killed your father. She knew just how to hurt me and that comment from her still whispers to me in my mind.That's a wound that has mended some over time yet I can't imagine how any human being can be so callious and especially her She was a licensed M D with her own practice Aren't Doctors suppose to take care of human life and not destroy it My dad will b gone 30+ yrs and I'm glad he never had to see the true colors of my mom It would have broken his heart

I can reall a time when I had gotten in trouble for losing a sock after my mom beat my ass and sent me to bed without dinner. My bedroom was just off the kitchen and I can recall my dad telling her she was in the wrong her reply to him and I quote When that girl is old enough to take care of herself she is out of here My dad in a firm tone replied Over my dead body and sadly that's exactly what happened He died in 81 by 83 my mom had kicked me out with just the clothes on my back dropped me off at a family friends house.Shortly there after she flew me back to Istanbul with every intent of returning me to the hospital where I was born She was so mad when they told her no they wouldn't take me back that she left me behind went to tour Europe n returned to the states without me Two weeks later I flew bac k to the states alone again