There was a time when my purpose in life was to be reunited with my son. It was what I lived for. The hope of happiness after the nightmare of coerced adoption. I had my moments when life got too much and I would overdose but only one was serious enough for me to end up in hospital. I cried at night for ages afterwards as I was still alive. Life just seemed pointless, worthless, I was worthless. A real mother would be raising her child. I was a failure. I had no purpose. When the pain was bad inside I had to let it out. The only way I could was by cutting myself. Never enough to do any serious damage yet enough to let the hurt. The atual cuts never hurt.
When I found my son my prayers were answered. He was alive, well, had a good life and seemed happy. Reality set in and I don't think I could have ever have have done anything to make him happy or even like me. I tried but who can truly be prepared for reunion. I failed again, made too many mistakes. Life didn't have a happy ending with reunion. I've just felt even more inadequate. I wasn't meant to be a mother no matter how much I wanted this. Feeling guilty and feeking selfish for wanting a little bit of what other parents have.
I have come full circle. Reunion feels like a dream at times then I have a moment to remind me it was very real. The constant, daily battle with feeling suicidal. Wondering when I will be free from the constant pain caused by adoption.
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