Am I good or bad at coping with things?
This is a question I've been asking myself a lot lately.
This weekend marks three years since the Russo-Ukrainian war broke out (again). Or escalated (again), however you want to view it.
I'm "only" a Russian adoptee, enjoying all the privileges granted to me by a life in a Western country. So, I myself am not a true "victim" of the ongoing events. I don't want to compare anything I'm going through with that of those who are actually on the front lines and/or losing loved ones in the conflict. Or with those who are trapped in their own country for whatever reason. I know it's not like that.
Still, I do in many ways consider myself a victim of international adoption, however pathetic and foreign that may sound to others. And the ongoing conflict has amplified feelings of shame and powerlessness in my own situation.
How could I continue learning my own birth language, a source of comfort for me but a horror for an increasing fraction of the world? Could I ever be okay with never returning to Russia given the political climate and never meeting my biological family members?
If you've read even a couple of my blog posts, it's obvious that my adoption has affected much of how I view myself and the world. It has also affected how I interact with others. But all that feels like a chapter (a lengthy one at that) that precedes the one that one that started in early 2022. I've felt my own personality change since then, and my friends have noticed it. And not for the better.
But at this three-year mark, I feel I owe this ongoing chapter as well as myself some reflections.
I'm trying to reframe things.
Recently, I've had some of the lowest days since all this started. At the same time, I'm starting to feel like I should commend myself. Especially for everything I've managed to do in the previous three years when I could have completely succumbed to hopelessness.
Despite my shame, I have not given up my study of the Russian language. I'm still finding meaning and comfort in the friendships I've developed with native Russian speakers, one of whom I consider much more of a close friend than a language partner. I could talk with anyone for hours in Russian. I had no idea I would make that much progress five years ago.
Rewinding a bit: After an adolescence of secrecy and alienation, I went from feeling powerful for the first time in my life when a new Russian passport showed up in my mailbox in December 2021 to utterly helpless again in a span of two months as it started to feel useless.
Despite this powerlessness, I have actively sought and found meaning in other ways that have been more fulfilling than I would have ever expected. I used my Russian passport to travel visa-free to Azerbaijan, a country I would have never imagined visiting but to which I now oddly feel connected. I went to the Caucasus all by myself. That's so weird to think.
I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without some resilience.
I previously thought I was bad at coping with things: the war, my adoption, and all the consequences of those things. But I'm now realizing that I'm actually very good at coping with them, even if I think otherwise on more days than not.
I read about others coping with long-term stressors and traumas, and I don't think they're weak. I don't shame them. In fact, I respect them for continuing to move forward somehow. That's so powerful. Why should I feel the opposite about myself?
Well, I know why. The people who raised me discouraged me from even imagining what I want. Right now, many might shame me for what I want. And a lot of society thinks there is simply no reason for me to want what I want, as adoption is a form of ambiguous loss.1 Unsurprisingly, shame and feeling misunderstood are not a good recipe for actually moving on with whatever bothers you and accepting yourself.
But despite all that, I am still here. Three (and arguably 28) years later, I have not given up even when the world or my own inner monologue tells me all the reasons I should. I'm good at coping. I'm doing much more than what I or anyone else could have expected of me. And for the first time in years or maybe ever, I'm letting myself be proud of that. That's why I felt like writing this today.