Breaking Barriers with an Untold Story

There is a part of my life that I don’t talk about, my adoption.

To be honest only a few people over the years have taken the time to get to know me on a personal level from the blogging world will know that I am adopted but I haven’t openly spoken about it before.

Only because:

1. I have always been happy within my adopted family so any expansion isn’t needed. So when I have spoken about my Mum or my Dad I have, of course, spoken about my adopted parents.

2. Through a long and furthered investigation into my biological past I have found that all members of my immediate family are alive and although this is my blog I have always felt a little uneasy discussing other people’s lives when they are around to not have their own voice.

3. My past isn’t a pretty picture. It isn’t something that comes from scenes like ITV’s Long Lost family or Disney fairy tales. It is from a place of hurt, neglect, abuse and abandonment and although I am aware of this it is not a positive stick I like to poke myself with.

Today is different. Today something big is happening and I feel like I need to write it out and expose the thoughts inside Martyn’s head!

Yet, to give an account of today I need to give you a brief background but forgive me if it is exactly that and vague in places!

I was born in 1982 and both of my parents were both young and unmarried. Their relationship broke down before my birth but stayed in the same social circles.

Within that social circle would enter a man who would become my birth mothers new partner. Between the pair of them I suffered a range of mistreatment until I was left at a mother and baby unit at the age of 10 months because a choice was made between keeping me or the new partner; a choice enforced by him because I wasn’t his true son.

I bounced around foster care for a bit until my Mum and Dad fostered and then later adopted me.

In the following years my birth mother and her new partner had 3 more children together (1 boy and 2 girls in that order) and my birth father had a daughter.

Due to a variety of both joint and separate reasons several years on every child from my birth mother and father, although not together, were put into care and then adopted; none of us aware the others existed and our lives carried on.

Around 9 years ago I received a new diagnosis on my health, learning that it is in fact hereditary. Instantly I was filled with what can only be described as a natural instinct to know my genetic heritage. I needed to know where I came from. Here the journey began.

Media mislead me though. Shows like ITV’s Long Lost Family painted a pretty picture that the majority of the people involved had a story that had tragedy and heartfelt scenarios that made the adoption and then reunion a moment of joy and mutual understanding.

My experience wasn’t like that.

My birth father, unknowingly, lived pretty much on the same road as we did. We met and if anything it was a nice meeting but that was it, nice. The years had passed he had his life and his family and what he told me made sense and we both just moved on with our lives.

My birth mother was a different story. The meetings and subsequent contact was hard. Each example was met with lies, conspiracy theories and a level of self-seeking pity that I had never encountered before.  It continued like this for years and the “relationship” was becoming more and more strained and I was only left with regret for meeting her.

However, I did find written examples of case files on my siblings from both of my parents and sadly it looked like the pain I went through happened for longer periods of time. This only meant that finding them would be hard and due to ages of some, impossible.

I left my details and my health concerns with social services and just had to forget about them.

That was until 18 months ago when I received a letter from a sister. I don’t and won’t specify who etc. as I don’t think it is my place, but contact nonetheless.  

These 18 months have flown by and we have taken the time to talk and get to know each other and with that now chat through messages regularly.

This now brings you up to today. Today is the day that I finally meet her and if I am honest I am terrified about it.

The past experiences have shaped my expectations on how today will be and I know that is unfair of me but that feeling is there. Here is the next bit where I sound, at least in my head, silly: What if it goes wrong? What if she doesn’t like me?

The past has shaped me and in doing so filled me with fear. I am sure it will be good in the long run but I suppose wanted to write this to vent those worries and maybe have some reassurance along the way. I just hope that it is good and I can come away happy and comfortable that I have finally met them after all these year.