Crispin

What is my adoption story? How do I tell my story without getting wrapped up in my family’s story? Or is that just as much a part of my story since they raised and shaped me? 

I don’t ever remember being a “me”. I remember being a “them.” I assume that’s common for siblings, not having individual self. We were a package deal, my brother and I, and referred to as such. I was four when my parents decided to adopt another child and they put in a preference for a boy, which was granted since they already had a girl. I remember going to pick him up from the airport. My parents bought me a stuffed elephant, a parting gift as I said goodbye to days of not sharing and alone time. A token gift to coax me to behave; it didn’t work.  My only vivid memory from that day is getting spanked because I was climbing on a railing like monkey bars and was told to stop…and of course I didn’t. I conveniently became a great excuse for my mom to let off her pent up anxiety. “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” as the phrase goes. From then on it was Heather and Crispin.

Only Crispin would be the surprise no one counted on. Crispin was slow to verbalize. He began spinning objects and staring at them incessantly. He wasn’t responding to commands or questions.  Maybe he’s hard of hearing, my parents thought, so off to the doctor they went. No one understood when the 1978 doctor tried to explain to my parents that Crispin was autistic, the diagnosis was new and not really explainable yet. It’s like a special variety of mental retardation. In a nut shell there’s no verbal skills, only rote/routine conditioning for learning, and no cure.

But see, here I digress. I tried to tell my story and yet here I am describing my sibling. But truly, my adopted brother is really a huge part of what made me, me. Even with autism out of the equation, we look out of place: mom is an overweight, strawberry blonde - dad can pass for amish - and then two Korean kids. Add to this my brother who is clearly not “normal” looking and is generally pacing awkwardly back and forth, making strange sounds and yelling.  On occasions of frustration he would start hitting his chin with the back of hand and spitting. In truly social crippling moments he can be seen putting his finger down his pants or in his belly button and then smelling it. There was never a moment I was going to feel like I fit in. Fate had already sealed the deal.

There’s two emotions I work hard at owning or avoiding and this I’m sure is in direct relationship to growing up with Crispin: embarrassment and shame. I spent a lifetime fearing activities that brought on these emotions. I took on crippling moments of doubt. His actions were in direct correlation with my self-worth. The larger he acted out, the smaller my self-worth became. We would try to take family vacations to Disney or Dollywood and Crispin would invariably be set off by crowds. He would start yelling, spitting, doing his routine and then my father would take him to sit in a hot car and wait for mom and I to finish the park. I’d bring home a date in high school and Crispin would be standing in the hallway with his pants down around his ankles, waiting for someone to wipe his ass.  My confidence, my voice, my identity shrank with each soul crushing moment. I never had the confidence enough to embrace my brother and all his flaws and stand proud for my family. My identity was so fragile it was all I could do to keep it from shattering into a million pieces with every look or stare from strangers as my brother carried on. I wanted to be the family who had fun together. I wanted to be the family on TV that went to restaurants and movies. I wanted some reassurance that I was ‘normal.’  But since that wasn’t going to happen at home, I did everything I could to not be at home. 

Heather apart from Crispin was more confident, self-assured. She was able to push down her feelings of inadequacy just enough to let some success emerge. I was capable of achieving great things and felt the need to prove myself at every turn be it gymnastics, ballet, piano… I threw myself into activities and experiences to feel normal. I pushed myself to get good grades, but not so much that I didn’t have a social life. If my curfew was midnight and the movie got over at 11:20PM, you can be sure I was wandering the aisles at Meijer so I didn’t have to go home yet. I was so busy creating a life outside of my family that I never realized how much they were shaping who I was. 

My brother now lives in a home for others like him. My other brother (biological to my adopted parents) and I both live out of state now. I have guilt that I don’t visit or send cards enough. I try to send a gift at Christmas and his birthday but I’m really bad at that. It’s the Capricorn side of me that knows he really has no idea what’s going on and most likely would not even recognize me if he saw me. But I know he’s taken care of well and that would make my parents happy. The one thing I did learn from my parents is you don’t just quit when life gets tough. When they found out Crispin was autistic, they didn’t give him back. They didn’t re-home him like some over excited dog. Crispin was theirs and they loved him and committed to raising him and giving him the best life they could. Their entire world changed around him and they dutifully stayed the course. I’m in awe of my parents love and sacrifice they made for him and know that I am a far cry from them in that respect. And as far as my adoption story, I can’t tell mine without sharing Crispin’s for it’s inextricably connected, whether I wanted it or not.