Opinion

Alex Kane: Maybe 2022 will be when I finally unlock the truth about my troubled past

Alex Kane

Alex Kane

Alex Kane is an Irish News columnist and political commentator and a former director of communications for the Ulster Unionist Party.

Alex Kane and his son Indy in 2018
Alex Kane and his son Indy in 2018 Alex Kane and his son Indy in 2018

On Wednesday morning, at just after 8am, Indy (my four-year-old youngest) rolled in beside me. He lay there for about half-an-hour, dozing quietly and making his usual cat-like purring noise.

Then he woke up, opened his eyes, rubbed them, stared at me for a minute, sat up, smiled, hugged me and said: “I love you daddy.” If there is a better definition of bliss I have yet to find it.

It also served as a wonderful counterblast to the thoughts that had been running around my head in the previous hour; some of which had been about an article on the protocol I was due to file by the end of the day. The other thoughts had been darker. I’d had one of my nightmares: the one where I’m trapped in total darkness and screaming for my mummy. I’ve been having them since I was in the orphanage 60 years ago. The same nightmare over and over and over again: a hellish version of Groundhog Day.

The strangest thing of all is that most of my post-adoption life has been incredibly good. For the past 20 or so years, with Kerri and the children, I’ve been happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve had some very difficult moments and continuous-loop trauma as I rebuilt a new life after I left the orphanage; and, as I noted in a column in May 2020, I’ve had Mr D (the name I gave to my serial depression) dogging my footsteps for decades and occasionally still managing to wrestle me to the ground as he punches and punches and keeps on punching. But I always get to my feet again.

Yet as Indy hugged me it dawned on me (and dawn can take a long time to come if you’re dealing with a nightmare) that I’ve never had a dream in which I was hugged by my birth mother. I’ve had hundreds, thousands indeed, in which I’ve screamed for her before waking up in a foetal position; heart pounding, sweat running, tears flowing and fears wrapping themselves around me, making it difficult to breathe.

Nowadays Kerri wakes me from the nightmares. But even then it can still take a while for me to settle down and realise that I am safe and loved. Yet still haunted by the absence of a reply to, or rescue from my screaming. I have occasionally suggested to Kerri that she shouldn’t wake me; and just let me see what happens if I keep screaming. She won’t: and I can understand why. I presume I just forced myself awake during the years she wasn’t with me.

The joy which Indy’s hug brought me on Wednesday morning also got me wondering what would have happened if my scream had finally been answered with a hug years ago. Would some huge weights have been lifted from my shoulders? Would Mr D have vanished? Would the fear of opening my pre-adoption files disappear? Would what sometimes feel like chronic insecurity and complete lack of confidence (another two things I’ve battled for years) have lessened?

I wonder if it is possible to have a huge, healing hug from the past? I am blessed to have daily hugs in the present, but I know I’m still missing something. Still screaming and still wondering why my birth mother never appears with a hug and an “I love you.” Still wondering why I’m hiding, why I’m terrified, why I’m alone. Still wondering why the joy of the present can never block out the terrors of the past. And still scared that opening files into my past will only make matters worse.

Or maybe, just maybe, 2022 can be the year I take the decisive step and find out the truth? The year of dealing with my own past: or at least gathering the files that can be left for my children to open when I’ve gone. I stopped making resolutions years ago, because plans to exercise, slim, not smoke, eat less sugar, start new hobbies etc always seemed rather frivolous (and mostly doomed to failure by mid-February).

But I’ve got to that stage on the ladder of life when the vast majority of rungs are below me; and reaching the remaining few becomes just a little bit harder than before. Time is no longer on my side, so best not to waste it. Anyway, whatever you choose to do in 2022, or whatever personal challenges you face, I wish you the very best. And thank you for still joining me here on a Friday. Happy new year.