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I often found myself questioning if I had been adopted, as it seemed implausible that I could be related to my family. I felt fundamentally different and was treated in a way that made me feel unwelcome and out of place. The thought that I might not be connected to them by blood provided a strange comfort; maybe that explained why I felt like such an outsider.
Although I knew I was not adopted and my family was indeed my biological family, they never felt like my “true” family. During the hardest times in my childhood, I clung to the hope that my real family would come for me one day. At that age, I lacked the words to articulate that what I truly longed for was love and a sense of belonging.
I endured years of mistreatment from my family, where every adult relative was unkind. Those who didn’t partake in the cruelty often remained silent, which sometimes felt even more painful. To cope, I learned to normalize this mistreatment. It wasn’t a conscious choice; it was a survival mechanism. The constant feeling of being wronged, only to be met with gaslighting, took a toll on my mental health, forcing me to accept the abuse as the norm since I had no other frame of reference.
As I entered my twenties, I began to recognize how much I had normalized truly unhealthy situations. I met a man named Jake, who would eventually become my husband. He introduced me to his family, whose normalcy felt foreign to me. When I spent time with them, they treated me with kindness; no one mocked me, and there were no eruptions of anger. Despite my anxious anticipation of something going wrong, nothing ever did.
Initially, I was unsure how to process my feelings towards Jake’s family. I appreciated their kindness, but it also forced me to confront the reality of my own family’s dysfunction. Healthy and joyful children don’t spend their formative years wishing for a savior from their “real family.” Likewise, healthy adults don’t experience panic when they’re met with kindness from their partner’s family.
When Jake proposed, I felt apprehensive about how his family would react. Though they had given me no reason for concern, my upbringing had conditioned me to expect judgment for making my own choices. His mother was genuinely happy and expressed her admiration for me, calling me intelligent and sensitive. This moment hit me hard; I realized I was unaccustomed to hearing maternal figures speak well of me without strings attached. His family’s joy for us was refreshing.
The truth about abuse is that the trauma lingers long after the abuse ceases. Conditions like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) can emerge even years after the trauma. While I don’t have PTSD, I carry the scars of my past. Meeting Jake’s family allowed me to examine my experiences in a way that I hadn’t been able to while I was merely surviving. The end of my trauma offered me the space to process my past.
Gradually, I stopped feeling anxious around Jake’s family. With each passing moment, I began to understand that this was my “true” family. Unknowingly, they facilitated my healing by providing me with the love, stability, and acceptance that had been absent from my childhood. For many, these might seem like basic human rights, but for someone like me, they felt extraordinary. Acts of kindness that others might take for granted are incredibly precious to me, and I will always consider them the most significant gifts I have ever received.
Ultimately, my childhood wish to find my real family has finally come true.
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Summary:
This article narrates a personal journey of breaking away from a toxic family environment and discovering a supportive and loving “true” family. Through the author’s relationship with a partner and his family, they begin to heal from past trauma and redefine what family means to them, ultimately realizing the importance of kindness and acceptance.
- Toxic family dynamics
- Finding true family
- Healing from childhood trauma
- Understanding family relationships
- Emotional recovery from abuse
Keyphrase: Finding my true family
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