In my adoptive father’s study were many fascinating books. At age fourteen I was drawn to his collection on psychology and especially to the books that discussed human psychological development. Sometimes what I read troubled me. As I was just beginning my quest for self-understanding, it was upsetting to learn that psychologists held out little hope for human beings with an early history of abuse and neglect such as mine.
I was introduced to the notion that what happens to you by the age of eight determines your future for all time. I arrived at our new foster home with three siblings just in time to celebrate my eighth birthday. The books I borrowed from my father’s study forecast that I would lack self-confidence. I would have a dead emotional center and much difficulty in intimate relations. I would fear abandonment and have to live with a strong sense of vulnerability. I was likely to suffer a lifetime of depression. One psychologist actually recommended that those with a history such as mine should not marry.
The worst news in the psychologists’ books was that I was different from my peers, which at age fourteen I wanted very much to deny. More than anything else, a teenager wants to be like other kids, to conform to their standards, and to belong to the world of the young. Those who have never had the experience of knowing they are different in adolescence will have difficulty understanding how sweet the word “normal” sounds to a teenager who fears he must stand outside the group, feel isolated, and suffer loneliness.
I Have No Future
At first I accepted what I was reading. After all, it was in blocks of authoritative black print on white pages and these men and women were experts. My immediate reaction was despair. My fate was determined and there was nothing I could do about it. Any possibility that I could be a fulfilled and happy man seemed remote at best. What I read affected me deeply. I felt crushed by the experts and at first did not feel I could discuss what I was reading with anyone, not even my perceptive and loving adoptive mother.
But my second reaction, which I remember came later, was to rebel. I would prove them wrong! I would live a productive life, find and marry a girl of my dreams. I would father and raise children. I would succeed in my chosen profession, whatever that turned out to be. All this and more eventually came to pass.
I am not saying the psychologists were all wrong. I struggled to maturity, fighting battles not everyone faces, strongly believing I could overcome most of the negatives of my early life’s experiences. I did not do this alone. I had the support and love of a wise adoptive mother and the encouragement in my school of some amazing teachers.
Again and again my mother told me, “You are talented, you are intelligent. You can become whatever you want to become.” All this I describe in the memoir of my early years, Children of the Manse.
It’s doubtful that most psychologists today would make the categorical hope-destroying statements that I read in my father’s books in the l940s. Today’s psychologists would probably agree that a history of early neglect and abuse need not be the end. Emotional wounds can be mostly healed and many have overcome their early years of abuse and neglect to lead unusually productive and rewarding lives.
Only once did my adoptive mother think my behavior probably required the attentions of a psychiatrist. I was fifteen and deep in the emotional turbulence of the teens. My adoptive parents found me moody, uncooperative, and rebellious. I insisted on wearing my Levi jeans tight and low and had begun talking and acting like the young movie star, James Dean.
My Psychiatric Evaluation
There was a woman, my mother said one morning at breakfast, who she wanted me to meet. Dr. Baird, a psychiatrist. The mere word psychiatrist created freezing waves of anxiety that flowed through me. At first I strongly resisted such a meeting and at great length but finally agreed to accept an appointment with Dr. Baird. She spent half a day talking with me; observing, asking questions, and putting me through a series of written exercises. At the end of the session I was dismissed and my mother was invited into Dr. Baird’s office.
Mom told me later that Dr. Baird began with a serious look on her face, saying, “You have a serious problem. Your son is suffering from a difficult condition.” Then Dr Baird smiled. “It’s commonly called adolescence,” she continued. “Otherwise,” she said, “Your son is a sensitive but normal fifteen year-old male.” Dr. Baird added that she was impressed with my maturity and wished to offer me a position as a junior counselor at her camp for disturbed children the following summer. My mother, perplexed but greatly relieved, was light-hearted and smiled a lot as she shared Dr. Baird’s diagnosis over our lunch at a Mexican restaurant.
When I became a man I began to see my difference not as something to regret, but as something special most of my peers did not have. I grew into looking at my early history differently. I saw the same reality but through a different lens. I came to realize I did not have to repeat the sad life stories of my biological parents. I had been freed to create myself, to become my own man.
Here are some of the things I would say to those older foster and adopted children whose backgrounds, like mine, include neglect and abuse.
Points to Ponder
---You are not as different as you may think. Sadly, many children experience forms of
neglect and abuse while remaining in their biological families.
---Being fostered or adopted has its good points. It can deepen and enrich you as a human being. It can free you to create yourself, which now seems to me life’s most exciting adventure.
---Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Don’t let yourself become a victim. Come to terms with your difference. Accept it and make something positive of it.
---Get help with your anger, which was one of my issues. Anger can only hurt you and can even destroy your chances for future happiness.
---And, finally, do not lose heart. Never surrender to despair, never give up hope. It is never too late to heal. You are free to become.
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