When I was young life seemed so simple and I had my dreams. I knew that I wanted to have a family of my own and dreamed of the quaint cottage in a tiny friendly village existence. To this day I can't explain why I thought it would be the perfect life. Maybe it's simply because I was always a dreamer and knew deep down life isn't that simply.
My life couldn't have been more different if I tried. I worked for a number of years in London which, despite the horrendous journey, I did initially enjoy. I liked the variety of shops and the market near the office. What destroyed my social life was being bullied and lied into surrendering my son. My job no longer meant anything to me as I lost my reason for making something of my life. I got up, went to work, pretended I was happy, went home then repeated the cycle day in day out. Even when I socialised I did on auto pilot. I put on a front and that was it so I became a very lonely person.
I reunited with my son and for a while my life had a purpose that even marriage hadn't given me. I love my husband but even so I was going through the motions of life. I was finally able to be myself, the real me. Over the years I have felt life has finally had meaning for me again. So why do I feel like life has no meaning anymore?
Constantly telling my story has become a burden. I feel that often I am wasting my breathe on the realities of adoption for mothers who have been coerced into surrendering. My whole life feels dragged down by a combination of depression and talking about adoption. Too many pro adoption supporters / adopters don't want to know about the dark side of adoption. I feel like I am on a losing battle. What is the meaning of life for me?
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