Finding out I was adopted.

I didn’t know why when I was growing up I felt different to the rest of my family! From as young as I can remember, I didn’t feel as though I fitted in. Sadly I never had a good relationship with my mother, from day 1 it seemed to me that she didn’t like me and to be fair I didn’t like her much either.

Now I was no angel I admit, growing up into a tom boy.

You would find me up a tree, in the stream, covered in mud. Dad taught me how to box in the garden shed with me wearing his boxing gloves on my tiny little hands. Now keep in mind I was knee high to a grass hopper and as skinny as a rake! What a sight it must have been!

So me, who am I.  Well I’m 46 years old, born in the summer of ’69! See Bryan Adams must have had me in mind when he did that song! I was brought up in a small market town in Wiltshire, England, one of those places where everyone knew some one who knew your parents! Especially when you were up to no good! And that certainly was me growing up!

I think i was about 11 years old when I was finally told that I was adopted. I remember it as if it were yesterday! I was in my bedroom, the usual place you would find me either reading or cutting the hair of my Cindy dolls, I didn’t have a Barbie as she was to girlie for me! My mum came in and stood between me and my dressing table that was under my bedroom window. I do remember she didn’t look at me much, she seemed to prefer the view out of the window. She told me that I was 6 months old when I was adopted and that they had met the social worker on the roof of a building somewhere when they were given me and that my birth mother was young and had not wanted me. I’m not quite sure just how true the roof top bit was but it made it sound exciting! At that moment everything seemed to fit into place and the realization that I’d been right about my feelings of being different lit up my mind like a lighthouse!

From that moment I knew things were never going to be the same again!

M x