Can You Imagine?

I’m sure plenty of people must know how I feel, since I can’t be the only person ever adopted, but when Jane Eyre stumbles upon her own kin–people of her own blood–she becomes impossibly happy. This is what I would do if I met someone of my own blood, though hopefully they wouldn’t turn out to be hardened criminals or slave shop owners or something. I found the sensation odd when I was reading the passage because at that moment, I felt so alienated from the world that I wanted to toss myself into a cold, freezing swimming pool. I realized with quickening certainty that I had never, ever, once in my entire life, spoken with, touched, hugged, drank beer with, lived, laughed, loved, any of these things with someone of my own blood. The feeling is as though a spaceship flew in from outer space and dropped me off on the planet, then flew away. Jane Eyre sets up a home immediately for her to live with her new found, genuine family, and this I what I would do: I would endeavor to be close to them so we could sit on the couch whenever we wanted and just talk. If I never experience this, I’ve got one other shot at being with blood kin, and that’s to have children; then I would be able love & hug & call’em all mine. Of course, that’s a process I wouldn’t be able to do alone; though I think maybe adopting children with someone I love could possibly work, because me and my adopted kids would feel a strange connection. I think this is where my train of thought gets a little screwy: how can I possibly know what the future will bring?

I don’t really know why I have the emotional wish to want to feel these things, what sets me apart from others who simply deal with it. If I could come to terms, and be like H.P. Lovecraft, I would have matters much easier. Is there a reason for feeling the need for family? Is there some innate desire within the human being to long for blood ties? Are there ways in which I could shut down these needs for the purpose of emotional stability, maybe snip a gene or something? Maybe I could wear dark sunglasses and a cape for the rest of my life, and seek an ongoing prescription for Xanax to help me stay uncompromisingly emotionless, where my vapid existence would inspire the most dreadful horror stories ever written.

In any case, I wouldn’t want anyone to be able to imagine what this feeling of not knowing blood kin is like, and to be honest, I have a few, great friends that fill that void with exceptional integrity that I am forever grateful to have. I just found the Eyre passage a little striking when stumbled upon, and it’s just kind of a weird feeling is all. When viewed from a scientific perspective, we are all made from stardust and evolved from the same origin, so in this sense: we’re all family by some long and distant connection.

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6 Responses to Can You Imagine?

  1. woowooteacup says:

    I think it is perfectly natural to long for blood relatives, LK. Most of us take this aspect of our lives for granted, not thinking about what it would feel like not to know any blood relatives at all.

    Genealogy is an incredibly popular pastime because of our need to know our familial roots. (At one time I had heard that it was the second most popular hobby, after stamp collecting.) In working with genealogists, perhaps the toughest cases for us to crack are those involving adoption because of the sealed records. While this protects the parents, it does nothing for the children who’ve been given up for adoption. At the very least, knowing who you are related to helps give you a certain grounding in the world, even if it turns out you’re related to people you don’t like very much.

    Your last line about all of us being family is true in the mathematical sense, in that if you start figuring out our population by multiplication and who is related to whom, we all have to be related somewhere along the line.

  2. LK says:

    The day when I get my first real paycheck is the day when I take up Genealogy as a hobby then, seriously; I am so sick of this feeling, and with that “bitter end” looming ahead of me, I can’t stand the idea of dying in a complete shroud of mystery.

    Thank you so much for your words.

  3. woowooteacup says:

    I don’t know what the local historical societies are like where you were born, but they might have pretty minimal charges for going in to do research yourself. (Time might be the bigger issue for you with college.)

    I have no idea about this, but what does your birth certificate say as far as your parents are concerned? Are your adoptive parents listed? Are no parents listed? Is your birth certificate sealed? What state were you born in? I can do a quick check of available resources if you’d like.

    (By all means, respond via email if you want to keep this private.)

  4. LK says:

    Thanks!

    My birth certificate is a reprint made two years after I was born; the original is locked away; interestingly, there’s the name of a lawyer on there from way back when, but I’ve never called…yet, I probably should.

    Maybe I could just send you a file copy and see what you think, but whatever you do, don’t go spending time on me. I’m super busy again all of the sudden, but I may take you up on your offer someday soon.

  5. woowooteacup says:

    I’ve never heard of a birth certificate having a lawyer’s name on it. Something new for me and good to know if I run into it again. I certainly would like to see it, but only when you’re ready.

  6. LK says:

    You’re right, it’s not a lawyer; it’s a “certifier,” and that’s the doctor. I must have confused lawyer with certifier.

    I’ll figure a way to scan this thing. : )

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