When the Loneliness of Foster Care Dissipated - IRH Press International

When the Loneliness of Foster Care Dissipated

I used to think of being put up for adoption when I was a child as unfortunate. However, through an encounter with the teachings of Happy Science, my perspective on my own circumstances completely changed, and I came to genuinely appreciate them.

Today, I will share the journey of my heart.

Mrs. H (40s, female).

Infidelity and Divorce...

Over a decade ago, I went through a divorce. I had been troubled by my ex-husband's habits of extravagance and nightlife for many years, but for the sake of our three children, I endured it diligently.

However, within that time, my husband's infidelity was discovered. Furthermore, as my eldest son grew, he began to rebel against his father, and witnessing this, I decided it was time to part ways, thinking, "I can't take it anymore."

I returned to my parents' home with the children. My eldest son had just entered junior high, and my younger daughter was still in kindergarten.

Betrayed by love...

I met my ex-husband when I was around 20. He was part of a group of friends I used to hang out with. He was very attentive, buying medicine and delivering it to me by car when I said I wasn't feeling well. He often gave me expensive jewelry as gifts. When I sprained my ankle while skiing, he would pick me up and drive me to work every day.

Marriage happened under the pressure of his intense pursuit.

However, my husband, who worked as a painter, suffered a severe reduction in work due to the bursting of the economic bubble. With an extremely low salary, our family lived on less than 10 dollar a day .

He took on part-time jobs, but instead of contributing that money to our living expenses, he wore branded items, went out at night, and didn't come home. And then, infidelity.

"This wasn't supposed to happen..."

From a young age, I had an intense desire for love. In fact, I had been adopted right after birth and carried a sense of loneliness in my heart. The expectation that my husband, who seemed to love me so strongly, would make everything okay was tragically betrayed.

The day I learned I was adopted

The first time I realized I was adopted was probably around the 3rd or 4th grade of elementary school, during the summer. I grew up in the downtown area of Tokyo, and every summer, I would visit my mother's countryside home in Tochigi.

For me, an only child, spending days playing in the rich natural surroundings of mountains and rivers with many cousins was a great pleasure.

One day, a cousin three years younger, who was playing with me, suddenly said, "Hey... you know, H-chan, you're actually my big sister."

I was surprised by the sudden words, but even as a child, I somehow grasped what they meant.

"If my cousin is my sister... does that mean the lady in the countryside is my mom?"

Aunt, who spoke very little and rarely initiated conversation with me, didn't give me the feeling of being my real mother. Uncle had already passed away.

"I'm an unwanted child. I'm an adopted child."

The words "unwanted child, adopted child" kept swirling in my head, and I was truly shocked.

At that time, a TV drama about adopted daughter in difficult circumstances was being broadcast. The image of an adopted daughter cast a dark shadow on my heart.

"Even though there are four siblings in the countryside, why was I the only one put up for adoption? Was I an unwanted child?"

How many times did I mutter the words "I'm an unwanted child" to myself?

Since realizing the fact of being adopted, there was a sense of loneliness within me, a feeling that I was an existence not needed by my parents. Seeking someone who could fill my heart with love, I got married to my ex-husband.

Before marriage, he pursued me relentlessly. I, however, believed it to be a special sign of affection just for me.


After the divorce, when I returned with the children, my adoptive parents welcomed us silently. There was no particular plan.

However, even in the depths of despair, there was something like a single thread of hope within me. That thread of hope—the encounter with the anchor of my heart—occurred two years before the divorce, through what could be considered a chance occurrence.

One day, when I went to my regular hair salon, the shop was closed.

"Ahh, it's a day off. What should I do? It's a hassle to come back again. My child is waiting, and I don't know when I can come next..."

While looking at the "CLOSED" sign, I pondered in front of the store for a while. Suddenly, I recalled a hair salon I had seen before and decided to go there.

"—Welcome. Is this your first time here?"

The atmosphere inside was pleasant. A man who seemed to be the manager greeted me. I was a bit anxious because it's often challenging to get the hairstyle you want at a new salon, but he listened to my requests attentively, and I received a wonderful cut. It was the right decision to come.

Having become a fan, I became a repeat customer and got to know the manager.

However, at that point, I didn't realize that this encounter would significantly change my life.

Opening the door of destiny One day, while the manager was cutting my hair, our casual conversation somehow led me to talk about my family troubles.

"Actually, things aren't going well with my husband..." "Oh, I see. That must be tough."

The manager looked concerned through the mirror.

"—Oh, right. If that's the case, there's a good book. Would you like to read it? I'm sure it will be helpful."

"Huh, a book? I'm not really..."

Busy with taking care of the children, my days were chaotic. But even after leaving the salon, I couldn't help but be curious about the manager's words.

Eventually, after a few days, I decided to borrow the book. As I casually flipped through the pages, I found myself drawn into it.

"People who lament the lack of affection from their husbands are everywhere... Women seem to be creatures hungry for love, and if love is not given, they seem to die of 'starvation'." "Unhappiness syndrome Chapter 3" 

Feeling like the book was speaking directly to me, I surprisingly finished reading it quickly. I thanked the manager and returned the book.

"Did you find it interesting? There are many other books; would you like me to lend you more?"

This is how I started reading books by Master Ryuho Okawa.

In Master Okawa's writings, there were many discussions about love, and it intrigued me. Even though I didn't fully understand concepts like "giving love" or "taking love," I felt like I found what I was looking for.

With hope for the future, I joined Happy Science.

Afterward, there were challenging events such as divorce, but encountering Happy Science became a support for my heart during those difficult days.

Changes in my heart

One day, the doorbell rang.

"Hello. I'm a member of Happy Science..."

After joining Happy Science, a nearby believer came to visit. They mentioned holding gatherings in the neighborhood. The connection with new people felt very refreshing.

Meeting people from Happy Science, I felt that what was different from my previous relationships was the open atmosphere where we could talk about anything.

As I started participating in gatherings with everyone and attending branch activities, a new rhythm of life gradually formed, and I began to feel more at ease.

One day, someone at the branch suggested, "Why don't you write down all the love you've given and received from others in your life and compare them?" Inspired by this idea, I decided to think about my ex-husband, whom I had been reflecting on.

As I recalled the events from when I met him, I realized how much he had taken care of me. However, instead of being grateful, I had taken it for granted. As I pondered further, I realized something terrifying.

"Because you pursued me, I married you."

I was horrified to realize that deep down, I always had such a thought. I had been thinking only about being loved by my husband, suffering when things didn't go my way, but I hadn't thought about doing something for him.

Realizing that this was what it meant to "take love," I knew I couldn't continue like this.

I continued to reflect further. Perhaps without realizing it, I might have become someone who "takes love" from others, not just my ex-husband.

From now on, I wanted to become someone who could give love to others.

In the midst of a new life

Since that day, I started becoming more aware of others' happiness. But switching one's mindset is challenging.

Like water overflowing from a spring, I longed to be someone who could give love. However, I was far from the ideal image, and the desire for others to understand me took precedence. I found myself caring about others' opinions.

I engaged in Happy Science activities, received advice from friends, and gradually made efforts to change myself.

Among the friends, especially the one who introduced me to Happy Science, the manager of the hair salon, Mr. S, was someone I relied on a lot.

Whenever I had troubles, Mr. S listened to me and gave advice. Most importantly, sharing the same faith allowed us to understand each other's feelings. My children also became close to Mr. S.

Drawn to his sincere personality, I became more attracted to him. Three years after the divorce, I decided to remarry.

After that, our life felt natural from the beginning, going on skiing trips and enjoying theme parks together. Every time a fun memory was added to our family album, I realized, "Since meeting Happy Science, truly happy things have increased."

I also participated in Happy Science seminar as much as possible, along with my husband.

Through reflection on my ex-husband, I clearly understood that my desire to be loved was deeply rooted, and it indeed stemmed from my upbringing as an adopted child.

Wanting to examine my past thoroughly, I decided to attend the "Reflection and Gratitude toward Parents" seminar held at the Happy Science training center.

The true feelings of my parents

When I first learned that I was adopted, as a child, I felt a sense of "I shouldn't ask" and kept it to myself. I think that was the first time I closed off my honest feelings.

Since then, without directly addressing the topic, my relatives and I implicitly understood each other through bits and pieces of conversation. This created a subtle atmosphere like that of siblings or relatives. Thus, my heart's shadows were left unattended.

During the seminar, a scene suddenly flashed in my mind. I saw myself as a baby, lying in the spacious tatami room of the rural house. My real parents were peering down at me.

The parents looked at each other and sighed. Gradually, the day to hand me over was approaching, and their silence deepened. Soon, they would have to let go of their daughter...

I could feel the sadness and loneliness in the hearts of the two people who were becoming more and more silent.

"I wasn't adopted because they didn't want me. Actually, they didn't want to put me up for adoption."

Tears welled up, and I couldn't stop sobbing. Suddenly, I remembered a fragment of a story my older sister had casually mentioned before.

"Dad, after giving up H, quietly went to see her in Tokyo. He saw K-san carrying H on her back, washing diapers while humming a song. Dad was relieved." "But you know, after giving up H, Dad and Mom were so lonely and sad that they ended up having another child.

My father, who passed away early, used to walk around the neighborhood, holding my newborn sister and saying, 'Isn't she cute? She looks like H who went to Tokyo.'

My real father, who I only knew through photos, became a tangible reality for the first time at that moment.

And my birth mother. When she was pregnant with me, her fourth child, she worked tirelessly from morning to night as a farmer's wife. It must have been a considerable struggle for her."

One day, returning from the field, my mother was in a hurry. On the high edge of the veranda, my 3-year-old elder daughter was desperately holding onto my newborn second daughter, who was just born. It seemed that the second daughter, who had crawled out onto the floor alone, was about to fall.

"I'm busy with work, and I can't properly take care of the children. It's pitiful to give birth in such a situation... Maybe it would be better to leave them with my younger sister's couple, who doesn't have children."

The decision to give me up for adoption was a decision made after much anguish.

When I visited the countryside, my birth mother was always out in the fields. When she returned from her outdoor work, she would say, "Oh, you came. Look, I boiled some corn. Eat up."

She was a quiet person, always smiling. Although our conversations as mother and daughter were few, each interaction was warm. Thinking about the hardships my mother went through and the genuine concern she had for me when she decided to give me up for adoption, I couldn't help but cry.

Upon reflection, my adoptive parents were also kind people who raised me with care. When I was young, all my clothes were handmade by my adoptive mother. She even made stuffed animals of giraffes and horses, which I loved.

I realized, "I was blessed! I had two mothers, and I was loved twice as much as others." When I thought that, the shadows that I had carried in my heart for many years disappeared, and I was filled with warm feelings.

During a seminar, I wrote a letter to my birth mother. It was the first time I addressed her as "Mom."

"Mom, thank you for carrying me, raising me carefully for 10 months, and giving birth to me safely. I am here now because of your wishes and beliefs, and I appreciate that you sent me to Tokyo for adoption. Thanks to your continuous prayers for my happiness, I am who I am today. I sincerely thank you. From your daughter, H."

My birth mother is 80 years old. When I go back home, we spend time together, cherishing those moments. Through this experience, my gratitude for my adoptive parents, who raised me with affection, deepened even more.

Savoring the bonds of the soul

After remarrying, our family welcomed another child, a boy, making us a family of four. He is now in the second grade of elementary school, bright and lively, the idol of our family.

Seeing the other children living with my husband as real parent and child, I feel a deep bond beyond blood ties.

In Happy Science, we learn that the souls of parents and children make promises in the heavenly realm before being born. Regardless of whether there is a physical blood relationship, I truly feel the deep connections of souls among people.

In conclusion, I express my heartfelt gratitude to the happiness of encountering Happy Science.