I had a very interesting, but traumatic dream last night. I dreamt that I was meeting my biological parents.
Oddly enough, I met my biological father first. I wasn’t too impressed, nor did I show much emotion (even though intellectually I know my life would not be here if it was not for him). I don’t remember much from this part, except he was taller than me, and we hugged. It wasn’t emotional.
Then, a few moments later, a stranger said “its time” and brought me to meet my biological mother.
She was extremely obese, looked rather unhealthy and was in a wheelchair. She had long brown hair, fair skin and I was searching her face for a resemblance, almost confused at her physical state. She was silent and did not say a word. She looked sad and guilty, but did make eye contact. She was accompanied by a few other people who were at her side as we both walked towards each other. I was alone, nervous and scared.
As I walked towards her, I thought “wow, this is it. This saga is finally over. I finally have my answers.” I looked at her and she held out her arms for a hug. I leaned down and hugged her. As I felt our bodies embrace and touch, a burst of tears flooded down my face. My body felt an instant adrenaline rush with acute pain. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could not stop crying and holding her.
I then woke up.
As I type this the next day, I think to myself, what did this person represent? A wheelchair confined, unhealthy and silent woman? Is that any significance to my stigma that I provide this situation? Is that fair for me to judge her as person who is struggling; unwell; guilt-ridden and confused? It is quite symbolic to paint her helpless, and perhaps that is my way of protecting myself. On a primal level, I want her pining; aching; recognizing and paying for the pain she has caused me…
Oddly enough, I met my biological father first. I wasn’t too impressed, nor did I show much emotion (even though intellectually I know my life would not be here if it was not for him). I don’t remember much from this part, except he was taller than me, and we hugged. It wasn’t emotional.
Then, a few moments later, a stranger said “its time” and brought me to meet my biological mother.
She was extremely obese, looked rather unhealthy and was in a wheelchair. She had long brown hair, fair skin and I was searching her face for a resemblance, almost confused at her physical state. She was silent and did not say a word. She looked sad and guilty, but did make eye contact. She was accompanied by a few other people who were at her side as we both walked towards each other. I was alone, nervous and scared.
As I walked towards her, I thought “wow, this is it. This saga is finally over. I finally have my answers.” I looked at her and she held out her arms for a hug. I leaned down and hugged her. As I felt our bodies embrace and touch, a burst of tears flooded down my face. My body felt an instant adrenaline rush with acute pain. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could not stop crying and holding her.
I then woke up.
As I type this the next day, I think to myself, what did this person represent? A wheelchair confined, unhealthy and silent woman? Is that any significance to my stigma that I provide this situation? Is that fair for me to judge her as person who is struggling; unwell; guilt-ridden and confused? It is quite symbolic to paint her helpless, and perhaps that is my way of protecting myself. On a primal level, I want her pining; aching; recognizing and paying for the pain she has caused me…