Adoption

As an adopted person I have read a lot of books about adoption, both positive and negative. I enjoy the 'Lost and Found' type of television programmes where family are reunited, often feeling great envy when they develop really close and loving relationships. The books by Nancy Verrier, herself an adoptive parent, are very enlightening. I often feel I have written her books as they reflect much of what I feel about my own adoption, and how it has been used against me by my ex husband. Adoptions are not all love and joy. The feelings of the tiny baby and its perceptions of not belonging as they grow are seldom acknowledged. This forms much of the basis for the first section of the book I am writing.

I am reading a very interesting book at present, though am rather slow as I struggle to keep track of the various branches of the family and the time changes.



Beginning in Krakow in Poland, and spanning 100 years and five generations, this book is a testament to Diane Armstrong's tenacity and research abilities. I am still at the beginning having just moved into WW1, but want to sit and read it with understanding and compassion. This sort of book fascinates me as it reflects what family is truly about. All the personality clashes, differences in families joined in marriage, cultural norms, a feeling of belonging that the adopted seldom own and often deny.

There are many books about family, searches for shetels in rural Poland, Diane's other book about this part of Poland is described in detail in her book 'The Winter Journey'. Finding family is paramount to many. I have found family and am writing about it, but it is not always easy.  I delight in these books which dictate how life should be lived, but not when one is ejected from one's true family and deposited in the norms of another.

This has been an interesting weekend with the discovery of how my daughter produces her art. I provided her with water-colour paper, paint, metallic pens and similar and watched as she produced two lovely works of art. Unable to read due to her intellectual disability she finds an outlet in her art work. I am beginning to wonder how extended she is as some suggestions I made for using the watercolour paint seemed to fascinate her. When having a coffee she devoured the art books I keep here for her. I am sure there is more to discover of her abilities and desire to absorb knowledge.

Many of the writing websites I belong to seem full of people who like me procrastinate but also other writers who seem unable to make decisions about their writing. I wonder if this is normal, I know what I want to write but often struggle with the format. So I just keep writing and hope a clear passage will become part of the process.