My adoptive family was very different than the family I was born into. Which was not necessarily a bad thing, but in some cases, it was.
The Tanchin family was a very conservative Christian family. They did not smoke, drink, or do anything they perceived was a sin. And individuals who did partake in those activities were judged from a distance and avoided as much as possible.
The environment was very sheltered, except in regard to the holidays. On holidays and birthdays, we were able to visit our biological family and spend the day with people who did not align with the same beliefs our adoptive family held. There was alcohol and smoking, and people used language that was not considered clean. It was fun and full of love, but it definitely was nothing like the controlled and classy environment I was now being raised in.
Because of this and because of disagreements between Grandma Wanda and her brother Don, visits to the family in Melbourne became less and less frequent. Eventually, they stopped altogether. And then the birthday and Christmas cards stopped a couple of years later.
For years, Trent and I had zero contact with our mother Nicole or our grandparents on either side. I did not know how to feel about this. For a while, I would write letters to my mother and show my adopted mom and ask to see my mom again. Lectures would inevitably ensue about how my mom didn't want to hear from me, she abandoned us, and that she was a bad influence. I would sob at night, wanting to know if my mom was okay and wondering if she still loved me or remembered me. I would pray that she was still alive and that my younger brother Zach was doing well. I couldn't even remember Zach's name at that point. After years of lectures and being convinced that my family on the coast were bad people, I stopped asking questions or even bringing up the adoption. It became a banned topic in our household, and a lot of bitterness was instilled in me toward the family I was born into.
Trent never spoke about how anything affected him. He also faced trauma from childhood and from the adoption, and he believed the things Don and Angel fed us about our family. He became even more bitter than I and was cold to the subject of family. Even in the family where we are now, he became extraordinarily reserved and showed almost zero emotion.
To this day, I am still waiting for the ice on his personality and the trauma he went through to break through.
