Embracing Dual Identity Without Losing Myself

in voilk •  2 months ago

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    Walking the Line of My Two Lives

    Dual identity has been a topic of fascination for me. Think of stories of spies, superheroes, or simply immigrants trying to fit in a new society. They are all fascinating, aren't they? This time, let me tell you what I am reflecting on duality of identities and how I come to terms with it.

    Dual identity , as the name suggests, deals with two identities that one might have, whether it was through cultural or simply a personal transformation or some other factors. That being said,there can be many reasons for this, and dual identity might pose its own benefits and challenges.

    Let me be clear, I am not a spy nor a superhero. My duality comes from living in two contrasting worlds, through the lens of someone who was adopted.

    I could only reflect on everything I've experienced in the last decade and say that I am finally coming to terms with it all.

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    Look, I write this because every one of you was a witness to me growing up, and I am happy to say that I did grow up.

    It all started, 7 years ago when I recounted the tale of myself meeting my birth mother. It wasn't that happy moments of a long-lost daughter type of thing. There was awkwardness, bitterness, and confusion. As much as my birth mother wanted to reconcile by offering me her resources, all that was left was another bitterness.

    Long short story, last year took a toll on me. I had a major accident that almost cost me a life. During that hardship, I did not see L visiting me in the hospital. She visited long after I came back from the hospital. L, came into my flat with only a sentence and a disappointment in her face even though the accident was not my fault. The Pandora Box of an Adopted Child

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    The need to fit in...

    Throughout the decade since we first met, I have contacted them on and off. As a background, my birth family is all educated, thriving, and successful. They lived the dream that I used to want, had money and connection not being a problem. At some point, I tried integrating my life with theirs, but a part of me that grew up different felt like it wasn't the right thing to do.

    Here's the thing, society plays a role in shaping and supporting my duality. If you were the 20-year-old me wanting so badly to fit in, sitting among academics, wealthy colleagues, and their pristine backgrounds, which one would you rather say when they ask, what do your parents do?

    a ) My parents are nobody. My mom is a housewife, and my dad is filing for bankruptcy and has no job.

    Or this one

    b) My mom is a lawyer and businesswoman, my dad is a retired banker and is currently running for local senator. My mom occasionally works with international organizations. She has this and that, and the list goes on.

    For someone who badly wants to fit in at the time, I chose the latter. Option b, where I always got the response, "Oh, no wonder! Your parents are smart." The truth is that I became myself because of my adoptive parents' dedication to me.

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    Maybe the superhero dual identities are really like this...

    I once stayed with my birth family, and it didn't take me long to act snobbish. After all, their world was different from what I used to know. When I was attempting to get closer to them, I never had to struggle as my older siblings were always one call away. There wasn’t a day that I was extremely struggling like I do these days.

    For the 20-something-year-old me, shopping without seeing a price tag was a life-changing experience. For a moment, I wanted to live that way with their constant support, having someone to bail me out when I make a million-dollar mess or having someone who will take me all around the country for free. Only later did I find out they have a cost; nothing is free.

    Nothing is ever free.....

    My biological siblings paid for their conveniences with freedom. They have little say about what they can do in their life. They were fiend of money and my birth mother was the dealer. It's like an endless supply of, that I know first hand, once it stops, they can't even fight for themselves.

    At the same time, whenever I am around them, witnessing those oddities, I can't help to wonder, why was I given for adoption?

    In case you also wondered like I did, at the time, my biological parents got divorced, and nobody was willing to take care of us. I heard that my grandparents were just retiring from the Air Force and got sick. So, my grandmother could not take care of the extra babies that my mother somehow left; she then sent a letter to anyone she knew who was willing to take all of us. In the end, my older siblings stayed with my grandmother while my sister and I were sent to different houses, and I was the one who grew up without knowing all this until I was 17.

    It felt like those weren’t strong reasons to give up babies to adoption. I don't know what their circumstances actually were but my biological parents weren't poor. They were just selfish?

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    When I first learned about it, it hit me. I felt like everything was a lie, and every story I came to know growing up, felt like a lie.

    After learning about it, I had my share of rebellious shenanigans. In the end, though, having to try living both lives, I chose to stick with my adoptive parents, who raised me since I was a little over three years old.

    These days, when I introduce myself, I no longer feel confused about who I am, where I am from and all that. I no longer feel ashamed of the names that were given by my adoptive family and who they are. I felt more emotionally belonging there, but I have to admit, the times I've lived with my birth family were something that felt like a dream, my dream.

    Perhaps because we are kin, I was surrounded by the people who understood me. The people who understood my passion for helping others, making some differences in the world, and having grand ideas. For my birth family, no idea is ever bad; their strong suit was network, and that is alone worth more than anything one could ask for. When you live in a third-world country, everything is really about network and connection. Without them, it is hard to navigate the difficult bureaucracy system that is put in place as an extra barrier.

    While over here, I have 0 connections and am building things from the ground up. This is the dilemma of the duality I had, and now I am coming to terms with it.

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    I used to wonder why I burned bridges just a year ago. I was cutting off all communications with my birth family until recently; I, once again, felt a little desperate. I needed money, and they were the only people I could go to. I thought about contacting them again but

    For someone poor, I had so much pride

    that even today, despite being as challenging as it is, I never really talked to them about it. And after going through the hardest moment of my life, I became so confident of my own choice, that in the end, I can solve my problem and I don't have to rely on their resources.

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    Attempting to live in both worlds can be challenging, and sometimes, I still struggle too. Still, as much as I feel more similar to my kin, I was raised differently and have different values. I take pride in myself that I am the person I am today because of all the hardships and failures that taught me great life lessons. In the end, this is a reminder to those who live like they live in between or navigating dual identities, remember— whichever identity you choose to follow with its twist and turns, they are still uniquely yours, so embrace it.

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    This post is written because I was interested in the post that talks about adoption by @gwajnberg Adoption shouldn't be a taboo in society.. I wanted to offer my voice to this matter and also it was a great topic of me to reflect on this.

    But anyway if I was adopted and only discovered as an adult by some investigation, I would get very mad at my parents for hiding this information. I wouldn't mind being raised by non-biological parents, but my childhood wouldn't look like a big lie. If they didn't tell me that what else could they hide from me? It would be challenging for me to forgive about 30 or 40 years old for not telling the truth. But still, I would be grateful for giving me shelter and food during my childhood. And what they did was something beautiful either being by choice or just because they couldn't generate a kid.

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    𝘔𝘢𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘢 & 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘳 . 𝘈 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨, 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘴, 𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯! 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘈 𝘳𝘦-𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰.
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