What’s funny is that my family members, on both sides, are all dog people. My aunts and uncles all had dogs. My cousins had dogs. My grandparents had dogs. My parents grew up with dogs. Dogs are great. They’re loveable and goofy and ridiculous and genuinely care when you plan to be home.
The other side of that coin is that my family has had a general, let’s call it an aggressive disdain, for cats. They don’t come when called. They don’t listen. They occupy the same space as humanity for as long as it serves their purposes. They genuinely care when you plan to be home to feed them.
Once when I was a kid a neighborhood cat wandered into our yard. My Dad chased it off with a stick.
The reason this is funny is that as much as my family has always been a dog family, they also had me. Adoptees like myself (and I’m going to make a vast generalization here) are like cats. We want to be loved and nurtured and cared for and doted upon.
From over there.
At arm’s length.
Then we want to stretch out and make our presence known as we occupy the same proximity as other people, but our anticipation is that you’re going to leave eventually, so we won’t bother to get too attached. It’s not that we dislike you. It just doesn’t seem worth all that effort.
I’m sure parenting me was a challenge. I mean, knowing me as an adult isn’t all that easy either, but growing up I was full of thoughts and emotions for which there was no baseline understanding and, let’s be honest, we live in a culture that prefers dogs.
As a whole we tend to prefer the robust, energetic, physically loveable, rough-and-tumble exuberance displayed by dogs. Because dogs love us unconditionally, without hesitation or memory of past wrongdoings.
Cats hold grudges, and oftentimes don’t even seem to know why.
Now, here’s where the analogy starts to break down, because cats are animals acting on an unknown instinctual prompting, and adoptees are humans acting on unrealized trauma and grief.
Cats can be put in the basement or outside.
Adoptees require, absolutely necessitate, a parent’s presence and intention.
Presence is about permanence and proximity. This is not the same thing as attention. It doesn’t require nearly as much activity. Presence is about occupying the same space, consistently, until we can be comfortable with you moving slightly further away.
I used to have a great deal of separation anxiety, but this didn’t mean I wanted to be held or nurtured. I just wanted to know, with absolute certainty, where my parents were at all times. I don’t necessarily think this means that adoptees can’t do daycare or school, or even that we can’t be left alone, but managing those expectations is key. You can go, just don’t be late coming back.
Intention falls under the category of what we like to call the “80/20 Rule” which generally means it is 80% being a human and 20% adoptee specific.
All parents should be intentional about raising their children. Meaning, we need to inform ourselves and make decisions. We need to know our kids. Really know them. Their likes and dislikes and strengths and weaknesses and details. This is always true, regardless of how our families came together. An adoptive parent just needs to know a little more about specific things.
As of right now the data and research that’s been done for adoptees and their families in the fields of neurology and psychology has grown tremendously. We have at our fingertips information that we just simply didn’t know ten, twenty, or thirty years ago. Specifically, we know a LOT more about the effects of trauma and grief in the adoptee and how they manifest in later years. This is extremely helpful to know, as it explains some of the experiences we have and normalizes them, and makes them real and significant.
Yet, at the end of the day, intentionality, as it comes to raising the adopted child, is the same as it is when raising any child. You’re the parent. You make the decisions. You’re deciding whether you’re having kids or raising adults, and the distinction is important. Your job is to parent to the best of your ability and accept the trials and hardships and consequences thereof.
What’s funny is that in my personal life I’ve flipped the script a little bit. I’m a cat person. I have cats and they laze around our house and generally treat me as if I’m furniture that feeds them. I like things neat and tidy and quiet, and arm’s length. I like cats.
My kids keep asking for a dog.
Dave “Dave-O” Overholser is a pretentious coffee snob, book addict, and video game enthusiast. He was an infant adoptee from South Korea, raised in Colorado, and has turned out as a fairly well-adjusted adult. Currently residing in Michigan with his wife, son, and daughter, Dave-O and business partner Brett create adoption awareness and support videos and podcasts for Facebook and YouTube called “Yes, I’m Adopted. Don’t Make It Weird.”
where they attempt to normalize the adoption experience through humor and
brutal honesty. You can find them on Instagram and Facebook . Dave-O also has a fluffy orange cat named Trout.
Yes, I’m Adopted. Don’t Make It Weird… is Brett and Dave-O, two South Korean adoptees who consider themselves well-adjusted adults. Through their various online media shows and podcasts, they set out to normalize the adoption experience through humor and honesty. Many, from all sides of adoption, have found Yes, I’m Adopted’s perspectives as adults, adoptees, and parents to be educational, enlightening, and entertaining.
