She sat and stared out the window, letting her mind drift back through her life. When exactly had her life started to go so terribly wrong? What had happened to her to make her the way she was? These were answers she so desperately needed, but honestly knew she would probably never find the right ones.
All her years of growing up, she had always been told she was ‘special’ because they had chosen her. She had been adopted at just 7 months old. She couldn’t remember when she was first told about being adopted, it had just always been a known thing. She just knew that she had a whole extra family in her life, the foster family who had kept her for the first 7 months of her life.
Oh, how she wanted to figure this all out. It was almost like she needed to at this point, for her own well-being. What had brought on all her pain and heartache over the years? She had never really seen herself as a pretty girl. She had been in glasses since she was adopted, and it seemed that they only got thicker and uglier as she got older. Kindergarten through about third grad was a bit rough, wearing a patch over one eye. The doctor had told them after the last surgery that by covering the stronger eye it would hopefully help strengthen the weaker eye.
The kids would tease her, all the usual names – four eyes, calling the glasses coke bottles because they were so thick. Yet she never spoke up and said anything back to them, or to tattle on them. For some reason, she already felt like her voice didn’t matter. Where had that come from?
The years rocked along, nothing major sticking out in her mind that could have been triggers for her depression issues. Nobody ever seemed to notice that she just wasn’t happy. Sure, even at the younger ages, she had learned to somewhere wear the mask….to hide all of the sadness she felt within by trying to smile while she was around others. Teenage years brought about the start of her weight issues. She felt so huge compared to everyone else. She really wasn’t that overweight yet…but she certainly wasn’t skinny like most of the other girls.
She main thing she could say now, was that she always felt out-of-place, almost like she didn’t belong where she was. Could this have been subconscious residual effects of being adopted? She didn’t think that she had ever harbored any ill feelings about that. The circumstances had always been known to her.
She has lost track of the times she had honestly wanted to just die, rather than feel so miserable. She felt like she wasn’t good enough, she wasn’t smart enough, pretty enough, the list went on and on. How could she ever move past it if she didn’t understand what the initial trigger had been.
The sound of her phone ringing snapped her back to the present moment, but left her a little foggy. With a huge sigh, she got back to the book she was working on. Writing always seemed to be her escape.