A Fistful of Fog

The real drugging began in a mental hospital, where I had been brought by my parents, against my will.

I cannot recall the precise timeline of events. I do know specific dates, because I spent specific amount of time in the hospital setting, and I know I celebrated my 17th birthday behind its walls.

I believe the issues began earlier, with the prescription of doxycycline and a summer of heavy exposure to sunlight. Continue reading “A Fistful of Fog”

Turning Seventeen

I remember the LA Riots as the thing that was happening when I was locked up.

I only recall the newspaper headline, and half a photo, seen through the grill of a vending machine outside the mental hospital, a Meier-affiliated Christian mental hospital my adoptive parents had driven me to in Plano, Texas.

I was sixteen, nearly seventeen, and they were frightened out of their minds. I was signed over to the institution, and that was it for a while. I was alone. Continue reading “Turning Seventeen”

On being a bastard

In the abstract, the adoptee is positioned across two tensions of the state – the assumption and legitimation of identity, and the power of the State to maintain an arbitrary secret indefinitely. When an identity is held tenuously, when identity is the first injury, individuals will find challenges to identity and authority re-traumatization, and suffer accordingly.Continue reading “On being a bastard”