Karen's Story

I was born in February 1971 and adopted at two months old. My adoptive parents had a two-year-old adopted son when I came along. We were a pretty normal and happy family for many years. I always knew I was adopted and have no recollection of that conversation, so I must have been quite young. I liked being adopted because it made me interesting to other people and that made me feel special.

My adoptive brother became problematic when he reached his teens. He was frequently under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Police were often involved and visiting him at a detention center after dinner was a familiar routine. Although I was frequently on the receiving end of his physical and verbal mistreatment, our parents told me to get along with him, something I realized decades later set me up to accept mistreatment in relationships. I went no contact with him after he threatened to physically harm me when we were adults. I am relieved he no longer knows where I live.

In Ontario, adoption records remain closed until the adoptee turns 18. Although I never had a burning desire to know my background or find my biological family, I was curious and applied for my adoption information when I was 19. I learned that my biological father was Austrian and that I had been relinquished by my biological parents because they had not known each other long and did not feel they could give me a stable home. I felt satisfied knowing this information.

Several months later, the Children’s Aid Society forwarded a letter from my birth mother. She had sent the letter to them to update my file in case I ever asked for it to be released. The letter informed me that she and my father had stayed together, had two children, and got married. She told me a little about herself, my father, my brother, and sister. I had a hard time processing all that and did my best to put it out of my mind for several years.

However, when I was 25 my curiosity got the better of me and I applied to the Adoption Disclosure Registry. It was not long before there was a match; my birth parents had been hoping to find me too. We lived nearby and met a few months later. It was amazing to see people I looked like, especially my siblings. My sister and I were instantly close even with an 11-year age difference.

I travelled to British Columbia with my mother and met my grandfather, who was a lovely man. I also travelled to Austria with my sister and father where I met family on his side. For several years I celebrated holidays and my birthday with my adoptive and birth families. When my mum and dad died, only nine months apart, I appreciated my biological family’s support. They were there for other significant life events too, including my marriage and the birth of our son, their first grandchild. I was part of their family in every way.

My sister and I tried to spend a weekend together each year. There were some challenges being part of the family, but I accepted them. My father’s behavior became concerning to me within a few years of meeting him. It started off with little criticism and harsh jokes that made me uncomfortable. Within ten years he was regularly calling me ugly, stupid and miserable, his favourite insults for me. I endured it for the sake of being part of the family.

However, as my son got older I didn’t want him to overhear how my father spoke to me. By early 2020 I was so overwhelmed with depression and anxiety that I started to avoid seeing my birth parents. This concerned my mother, who asked why I was pulling away. I did not hesitate to confide that my father calling me names and putting me down had become too much and that I needed a little space to rebuild my self-esteem. I assured her that I loved them both very much and that we were ok.

She said she loved me and would not lose me again. I honestly blamed myself for being weak since nobody else in the family was bothered by his behavior towards them.

Unfortunately, my mother told my father what I said and nothing was the same after that. My biological parents chose to completely end their relationship with me in November 2021. My father had firmly denied ever being unkind to me and my mother agreed with him. There was never going to be an apology or any kind of relationship repair, and I could no longer sacrifice my mental health to maintain their idea of peace. My mother simply emailed me, “We’re done.”

Shortly after that my father left me a note telling me he only had one daughter, not two. My brother stopped talking to me around that time and by late 2023 even my sister had become cold towards me, stating it was hurtful for me to speak up about our father’s behaviour. She didn't care how deeply it affected my mental health. We have not spoken since then.

I was absolutely devastated by all this. It took two years of therapy to heal my nervous system, rebuild my self-esteem, and to (mostly) get over them.

Before everything fell apart with my biological family, my sister shared a podcast with me, declaring, “it’s just like our story!” She was right. There were so many similarities of parents who stayed together, had more children that they kept, and meeting the daughter they relinquished.

What stood out though was how their daughter was only given five minutes out of the hour-long podcast. Her story was not what mattered, and that certainly was just like my story with my biological family. It was a great story if it wasn’t mine. I can look back and see that was when I started to come out of the fog.

At the time my sister said she wanted to hold space for me and hear my story, but it became clear that she could not do either. All her empathy was for our mother who gave me up; she had no interest in the effect being relinquished had on me or what I felt about it as an adult.

Being an adoptee shaped who I am and it is very strange now that I have no connection to any adoptive or biological family; I only have my made family, who truly love me. I spent so many years abandoning myself to be part of my biological family that I have not been able to really process what it means to me to have been relinquished and adopted. I don’t know if it even matters anymore.

I am in a good place now thanks to the love and support of my made family and friends. They are the only truly safe people I have known. My story has a very happy ending, and for that I am thankful.