“Well, “ she said, “Your birth Mum”. Mistaking this for a question I said “Yes please my birth Mother…..” as I tried to continue, she cut me off mid-sentence

Finally after six months of letter writing; meetings, phone calls, plenty of application forms, some pretty extensive red tape, and of course the waiting, I had done it! Now what?...

In the folder, at the back, I stored about 30 sheets of notepaper. Only the first sheet had any notes on it. I snapped the rings open and removed them for recycling, but something stopped me.

May 1999 and news that my application for gaining access to my adoption records had been processed

I wrote this while I was drunk the other night. I was just about to turn in and I was going around the house locking up and switching off when all of a sudden I had an urge to write.

Just a couple of months old when I was transferred to my ‘forever family’, key sections of first-hand information are missing, from my parent's memories of me as a baby in those first few weeks.

I consider myself a very open and giving person and it's possibly because I go the extra mile to be accepted, liked or loved. So it might be coming from a very insecure place. A lack of self esteem can do strange things to me.

So far, all I've talked about is how I believe adoption trauma has influenced my life. But what if it hasn't?

My anxiety has been steadily getting worse over the last 12 months.

Of course, I've always ‘celebrated’ my birthday on the 30th. The word celebrated is in inverted commas for a reason as I've always disliked birthdays.

I have always known I was adopted, at least I can't recall any such time where I was told about it, and up until recently I would have told you that I haven't been affected by being adopted.

As I write this I'm about 10% into writing my experiences growing up as an adoptee. I was adopted as baby in 1973.