Adoptees and Hope

William F Lynch, a Roman Catholic priest calls hope

the fundamental knowledge and feeling that there is a way out of difficulty, that things can work out, that we as human persons can somehow handle and manage internal and external reality, that there are solutions in the most ordinary and biological and physiological sense of that word, that, above all, there are ways out of illness.

His view of reality is that it is not ultimately conflictual. He believes that

being immersed in reality, belonging to it, provides the foundation for the beginning of hopefulness for all human beings, despite what may be the very difficult circumstances of relinquishment and adoption.

It is said that we are to find hope in our ‘future stories’, in our possible futures with our questions answered, and ideally, with our reunion needs met. We are to find and cling to the hope that some day, we will receive that letter from our birthmothers, that we will have that teary reunion in the airport, that we will no longer need the fantasy birth parents that we spent a lifetime creating.

But what happens when we do receive that letter? What happens when we do have that teary reunion, and we get to know the men and women who gave us away? And what happens when everything you expected to happen doesn’t? How, then, do we deal with the insatiable longing that still lurks in us?

It must be a common occurrence that upon meeting for the first time, or even over periods of time, we realize that what we dreamed our birth families to be can never exist. In fact, it must be an unavoidable truth. The fantasy we create in our minds cannot exist outside of our minds. Our mothers are not Queens, our fathers are not Kings. They are not flawless. They are humans. They are like us.

So how do we deal with reality? And how, when there is an unrequited interest in reunion, do we achieve a maintained sense of hope? How do we keep from falling into a pit of hopelessness when it would be so easy to focus on everything that did not happen according to plan in your reunion?

Moreover, what happens when your questions are answered by our birth families.. and we still cannot come to terms with the reality of our existence?

It seems there are still more questions than answers. And it seems there is little else to do but to continue to hope that they will be answered - if not by our birth families, then by ourselves in our journeys.

I am ONE

ONE: Describe my origins. 

EMH: Oh, it's a long story. 

ONE: I wish to hear it. 

EMH: Another time. 

ONE: I wish to hear the story. Now. 

EMH: In a nutshell, there was a transporter malfunction. My emitter fused  with several of Seven of Nine's nano probes. 

ONE: I was an accident. 

EMH: Call it a random convergence of technologies. 

ONE: Am I unwelcome here? 

EMH: On the contrary. Our primary mission is to explore new forms of life.  You may have been unexpected but given time, I am sure you'll make a  fine addition to the crew.

I was an accident.  Obviously, I was not a convergence of technologies, but I certainly was an accident. No two fourteen year olds get together with the intention of having a child. And yet, two did. I’ve struggled with this concept all of my life. I know that I was never intended to exist. But I do now. For whatever reason, my birth mother chose not to end my life. So there must be a purpose for it.. right? At fifteen years old, it would not have been exceptional to have chosen abortion as a viable solution to an unwanted pregnancy. But abortion was not chosen. And now here I am. But for what? I still have no answer. Sometimes I wonder if abortion would have been the better choice.. the “righter” choice. At least then I wouldn’t be playing tug of war with my own purpose for existing.

JANEWAY: Well, we can delay telling him for now, but keep in mind the  drone is becoming an individual. Seven, he has the right to know. Sooner  or later, we'll have to answer his questions.

And here was the moment of clarity I wish my adoptive mother would have had. I wish she could have had this conversation with Captain Janeway and realized that I had the right to know even the minuscule amount of information that was known. Knowing was a vital part of becoming an individual. And I have been delayed in doing so because of not knowing.

ONE: No. I should not exist. I was an accident. A random convergence of  technologies. 
SEVEN: You are unique. 
ONE: I was never meant to be.

Again, here is my (seemingly) lifelong struggle. I suppose I am only at my quarter-life now, but thus far, I have battled this in myself nearly every day. I was an accident. I was never meant to be. And when I watched this scene, I couldn’t help my tears. And they kept flowing, because I realized I was weeping out of jealousy. “One” was allowed to end his battle. He died heroically saving the ship and its crew. Lucky bastard. I just wait. And wait. And wait. And maybe one day I will find my purpose.