I write this for my fellow adoptees who struggle with similar special needs.
I went to the polling place for the last state election and couldn’t fill out the ballot. Looking at the lists and boxes made me extremely anxious, and I couldn’t decide how to complete the ballot even though I carried a list of my choices in my purse. My heart started pounding, and soon, my anxiety turned into panic.
Desperate for help, I motioned to my husband to come. He had already voted and was waiting patiently and close by, for he knows my special needs. I said, “Honey, come help me, please! I can’t do this.”
Immediately, the supervising poll worker intervened and curtly told me he couldn’t help me.
I felt like a helpless child, singled out and wrong.
“One of us will come and help you,” the poll worker said. The poll worker patiently went through each choice with me, and ten minutes later, I completed my ballot. Knowing I had the support I needed, the relief and empowerment I felt in that moment were immeasurable. I want to share this feeling with you, my fellow adoptees.
The total time I spent in the voting booth was about 30 minutes.
I’m not sure what this situation describes. I’ve searched the internet for information about the brain and why this happens to me. It’s always been there, but it’s worsening with age. Could it be a symptom of reactive attachment disorder? How about dyslexia? Or is it an indicator that I’m on the low end of the autism spectrum?
Then, I remembered that Retha, my adoptive mom, said she took me as a newborn to a particular doctor in a distant town for evaluation of my thalamus. I searched for my baby book, where she had recorded the physician’s information, but I couldn’t find it.
Afterward, I looked up the thalamus, and the Cleveland Clinic website stated,
“Your thalamus is an egg-shaped structure in the middle of your brain. It’s a relay station of all incoming motor (movement) and sensory information — hearing, taste, sight, and touch (but not smell) — from your body to your brain. Like a relay or train station, all information must pass through your thalamus before being routed or directed to its destination in your brain’s cerebral cortex (the outermost layer) for further processing and interpretation.”
Fellow adoptee, you are not alone in your unique needs. Many of the seven million adoptees throughout the US struggle similarly.
We can’t allow these needs to bring shame because nothing is wrong with us. We had no control over the trauma that created these needs, but we can have control over how we choose to respond to them and take good care of ourselves.
No matter your unique needs, you are loved and cherished by God. He fearfully and wonderfully formed you in your first mother’s womb. We must practice self-care when needs arise.
This year, I chose not to vote in the booth but in the comfort of my home. I’ve decided to prioritize my well-being and encourage you to do the same.
Let’s talk about our unique needs as fellow adoptee friends. I still believe that the best friendship on earth is with fellow adoptees. We can “read” each other’s emotions without words. We can come alongside and offer a cup of cold water. We can celebrate how we were created, body, soul, and spirit, by a God who loves us dearly. Together, we can navigate the challenges we face.
Write to me and tell me about your needs and how I can help you.
For anyone who wants to learn more about these unique needs, go to:
The Cleveland Clinic Information
Children’s Book (Ages 1-7): The Word Needs Who You Were Meant to Be
Children’s Book (up to age 13): Smart But Scattered: The Revolutionary Executive Skills Approach to Helping Kids Read Their Potential
Teens and Adults: YouTube: Bessel van der Kolk: How the Body Keeps the Score
Birth, Adoptive, and Foster Parents and Grandparents: Education about Pre and Post-Birth Adoption Trauma for Adoptive Parents