The "Look"

I come from a different tree

My adoptive family is huge.  And nearly everyone looks alike.  Most have the same face shape, similar hair, and the same laugh.  Even I have a hard time telling my mom and her sisters apart from their laughs and I've been with the family for twenty-four years.  They are just that similar.  Most of my cousins look alike too, which means that when we get together, you'd be able to tell we're a family (with the exception of a handful of us, mainly me).

I have a group of cousins who look very much like my mom.  They have the same facial shape, use the same expressions, have the same hair, and their eyes are like carbon copies of my mom's.  It's interesting to see how genetics come into play, especially when they have a father who clearly isn't genetically related to my mom.  It's different.  Anyway, we've been spending a lot of time together lately and when that happens, things come up.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone comment on the [insert last name here] look.  It's the "look" that clues everyone in that we're a family.  Well, that they're a family anyway.  I have to wait to be introduced and then it's assumed that I take after my father.  I do, just not the father they're thinking of.

Oddly enough, it hasn't happened as often over the past few years.  I think it probably has something to do with the fact that we're growing up and don't spend as much time together as we used to.  We don't have the same amount of family fun time that we used to, plus I've been living in another state for five years.  I haven't even been home a year, but I'm reintegrating with my family and getting back into the swing of things.

Back to the family fun time that we've been having lately.  We've been together a lot in public places and meeting new people.  And new people love to comment.  And thus the "look" was brought up again.  Only this time, it didn't bother me so much.  I didn't feel like there was a knife sticking out of my back and being twisted. It didn't hurt as badly as before.  Before it had been a reminder that I was different, that I wasn't "one of them" and that I didn't have people that I looked like.  Now, I see it as a celebration of those differences and I know that had my first family been there, those people would be saying the same things about us.  What a difference it makes knowing where my own "look" comes from.

This is just another example of how reunion has allowed me to start to heal and to live a happier life.  It's certainly one with fewer questions and more awareness of self.  Yay! :-)

My Take on the Top Five Regrets

Looking At Life

There's a fantastic article floating around on the web about the top five regrets of the dying.  I've read it a few times, and I've seen it posted on Facebook a few times.  It was featured on Lifehacker (my favorite blog for everyday random stuff).  I've been thinking a lot about these top five regrets.  I figured I'd tackle them one by one.

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. 
2. I wish I hadn't worked so hard. 
3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings. 
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends. 
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

Sometimes when things like this come around, its helpful to use them as a mirror to life as its currently being lived.  I look at my life through this lens and try to see how I'm holding up verses the life that I want to be living.  I don't think that anyone wants to have these regrets at the end of their lives.  How am I doing with all of this?  I'm only twenty-four years old, but as I've learned the past year, we aren't guaranteed any time here.  I'm learning to live in the moment and not take life for granted.

I certainly have a ways to go with the first one.  I'm learning slowly how to live my authentic life, the life that I want to lead.  My town has a certain reputation and there was a lot of pressure on me to succeed in that environment.  I'll never forget that in eighth grade the guidance councilors from the public high school came to talk to us.  We were told that if we weren't planning on going to college then we should find another high school to go to.  I do think that college was the best choice for me, but I didn't really make that choice for myself.  I was told what to do and I did it.  My current job was the next step.  I like it, don't get me wrong.  But sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't have been better doing something else.

I'm a hard worker.  I go at things 110%.  There is no middle ground for me.  Right now it's not interfering with living my life.  I don't have a lot of commitments so my job doesn't get in the way.  I'm sure that's going to change in the future and I'll have to adjust.

The first step for number three is blogging here.  I'm learning to express what I feel and put complicated ideas into words.  I'm learning how to see things for how they really are and how to be accepting of that.  I can't change the past or undo my adoption or what happened with my first parents.  What I can do is learn to forgive them and heal from the most recent fresh batch of wounds.  I'll always have scars, but a scar is still a lot better than an open festering wound.

Number four is a huge problem for me.  My friends are all over.  I have friends in other continents and other states.  It's challenging to keep in tough with everybody and it's something that I struggle with.  It sounds awful but thank goodness for Facebook.  I'd be even more out of touch without it.

I'm trying so hard to let myself be a happy person.  I'm my own worst enemy when it comes to that.  It's funny because you'd think that I'd want to be happy.  And I do, don't get me wrong.  Somehow though I can't help but feel like I get in my own way.  I'm working on it and lately I seem to be doing a little better with everything.

Looking in the Mirror

The Mirror

I've been trying to pamper myself lately.  I don't always take the time to stop and think about how far I've come.  When I look in the mirror I tend to see the faults and flaws, and not the positives.  The other day I caught my reflection in the mirror and I actually stopped.  I realized that I'm too hard on myself sometimes.  It's funny, but I see myself in a completely different light than I used to.

When I used to look in the mirror, I'd only see question marks.  I didn't know where my skin tone came from or where my curly hair came from.  I had no clue who else had the same brown eyes.  I couldn't see the history that was written on my own face.  It was frustrating to have my lack of knowledge of where I came from thrown in my face.  Every.  Single.  Day.  And when I was so frustrated, I'd nitpick.  My nose is too big.  My skin likes to throw temper tantrums a lot (especially right before something where lots of pictures are going to be taken).  My hair and I have a love/hate relationship.  My face has a funny shape.  My teeth are OK thanks to braces, but they could be whiter.

I didn't see those things in the mirror the other day.  My skin is clearing up from it's most recent tantrum and is looking good again.  My hair was having a good day and was cooperating.  My teeth are looking a lot whiter thanks to some great new whitening toothpaste.  And I know that my facial structure comes from my first father and my first mother.  I've always loved my eyes, but now there's another reason why I love them.  When I met my first father, the first thing I noticed was that he has the exact same eyes as me.  It's like looking in the mirror.  What an odd feeling.  Now when I look in the mirror I see that history there.  I see my heritage and my biological family reflected in my face.  I know this is a huge reason why I want to meet my first mother, so that I can see for myself our similarities.  Pictures just don't cut it.

I've been trying to be better to myself these past few weeks.  When I was looking in the mirror, I realized that I'm a lot more put together than I used to be just a few months ago.  I'm exercising.  My anxiety levels are a lot lower.  I'm more relaxed because I'm getting out my pent up energy.  I need to work on the sleep thing, but I'm getting there.  I've been a friendly person to be around and I'm more likely to smile on my own rather than forcing it.  I'm eating right.  I'm putting on (good) weight.  Meals are no longer an epic battle.  How exhausting that was...  I'm doing things that I enjoy and spending more time with my extended family.  I have my hard days for sure and I'll always have my hard days.  But I'm managing a lot better.

It really is true.  I got some great advice about being happy.  "Fake it 'til you make it".  I never thought it would work.  But I tried.  I made myself smile more.  I faked a good mood even when I really didn't feel like it.  I forced positive energy into my life when I wanted to lie down and give up.  And suddenly, I seem to find myself happier without really trying.  The changes I've been making in my life recently are starting to pay off.  I'm trimming out the negativity and added in things that are good for me in their place.  It's working so far, and I hope to keep it up.

I like the girl in the mirror these days.  I want to keep liking her...

Family Stuff

I've been doing a lot of family stuff lately.  My cousins have been busy with sports and I've been in the stands cheering them on.  It's been a lot of fun and I've been taking lots of pictures.  That's why I haven't been doing Picture Sundays because I've been busy taking photos of my cousins.  I hope to get going with my other photography soon.  I'm a huge fan of outdoor photography and there hasn't been a lot to photograph lately outside.  There are no flowers, no pretty trees, and even no snow.  Just blah.  Hopefully spring will get here soon!

I was really lucky and got to hang out with one of my uncles this past weekend.  I haven't seen him as much lately so it was a lot of fun to watch Saturday Night Live with him and play with his dog.  We had some good laughs and caught up.  My uncle was there for me as a kid a lot and stepped up to teach me about sports when I showed an interest.

I also got to spend some time with Rudy's family this weekend too, which is always a lot of fun.  It's so cool to see another family's dynamic and to sort of find a way to fit in.  His family is awesome and it's great that I got to hang out with them for a bit.  It's very interesting for several reasons.

For starters, I'm not like the people in my adoptive family.  Sure, we have a few similarities.  But because I'm supposed to be "one of them", the differences are glaring.  Out of the twenty-three cousins on one side, I think three of us have dark hair.  And the other two are very young and weren't around when I was growing up.  I have a different skill set, and I act differently than my adoptive family.  My adoptive family is amazing and I wish I could be more like them at times.  It's taken a lot for me to realize that it's OK to be different.  Now I'm slowly learning how to embrace the differences and to love myself for my uniqueness in my family.  I'm not the only unique one and I'm learning to love it.

Now, when it comes to Rudy's family, I'm not expected to be like them.  I'm not "one of them" in the sense that I am supposed to fit in immediately into the family.  They get that I'm different, that I have another set of genes, that I'm not supposed to act as if "born to" them.  Instead, they expect me to be different, to act differently, and to think differently.  There's no pressure.  I like them a lot, they like me, and we get along really well.  I don't have to "fit in" and when I do, it's even better.  We share a lot of laughs and good times.  And at the end of the day, I usually leave smiling (except when my team blows a big game, but we're not going to go there, and that has nothing to do with Rudy's family).

It's interesting to see how that all comes into play.  Rudy's family is a lot like my adoptive family in certain ways and its been fantastic for me to be around that without any added pressure.  It makes for a nice visit when we manage to make it up to see them.

It's All About the Attitude

I'm learning that sometimes it's all about the attitude.  I think my favorite part of philosophy in college was when we learned that there isn't really a reality.  It's all about perception.  No two people perceive the world in the same way.  So there is not one reality, no one right way, no one absolute.  Two people will view the same thing from different perspectives with different past experiences.  I will always view things from the point of view of an adult adoptee who was born and raised in Massachusetts, went to a private college. and has a degree in engineering.  Each life experience also shapes me so I'll see things differently from another adult adoptee born and raised in Massachusetts, who went to a private college, and has a degree in engineering.  So we all see things differently.  If each person sees things from their own perspective, then there cannot be one absolute reality.  Just a blending of how we all see things.  And I'm learning that how I see things is all dependent on my attitude.

I'm super into self-help books these days.  Some of it's crap.  This I acknowledge.  So I read with a skeptical eye.  Sometimes though you stumble across something great.  And those gems are starting to help me through this rough patch.  For starters, I'm starting to accept what happened to me.  I phrase it that was because adoption is not something that I chose.  It was chosen for me.  It happened to me, without my consent.  And there are times when it really does suck.  I love my adoptive family.  Don't get me wrong.  But I wish I was their biological daughter.  I wish I didn't have to deal with these issues.  I wish I could be the same as everyone else.  But I'm not.  And I'm starting to accept that.  It's a process and I'm not 100% there yet, but I'm working on it.

Next, I'm working on my attitude towards things.  I'm learning that I need to be flexible and bend as life changes.  That being said, I'm learning not to bend so far that I break.  It's a fine line and I'm learning how to manage.  I'm learning to accept that life isn't always fair.  Sometimes bad things happen to good people.  I can sit around and feel badly about it, or I can dust myself off, pick myself back up, and move forward.  Being sucked down by something because it's unfair doesn't make things better, it just makes me feel worse.  I'm also figuring out that I need to take care of myself.  Sometimes I tend to put the needs of others first and then dealing with my own needs and wants second.  I need to learn to take care of myself because if I'm not at my best, I can't do much for others (mental note: schedule yearly physical - no more putting it off because Mom's sick).  So I'm working on fixing my attitude.  It's a work in progress, but then again, isn't that what life's about?

My new favorite saying is that I'm a work in progress.  I'll always be growing and learning and changing.  Life isn't static.  I'm trying to maintain a good attitude about everything.  There are certain things in life that I can't change, so the only thing in my control is my attitude.

Learning to Relax Again

I've tried this before and failed miserably, but I'm deciding that I'm going to be happy from here on out.  I'm going to work harder at getting to a better place than I'm at right now.  I'm determined to do it.  I can't keep living like this, and I'm going to deal with it and move on.  So I'm going to try to stay positive, and make some changes in my life to reduce my stress.  I've been browsing around on the web looking for tips and I figured I'd share some of the things I've been doing in my life in an effort to feel better.

Deep Breathing
Megan over at Earth Stains posted this gem a few months back.  I've been practicing and oh boy does it help a lot!  This method of deep breathing is something that I can do anywhere.  When I feel particularly stressed, I start a cycle of this at my desk.  I close all the windows on my computer (leaving only the relaxing background), relax my muscles, focus my eyes on a blank wall in my cube (if I'm not at my desk I close my eyes), and focus on my breathing as I recite the numbers in my head.  I block everything else out other than my breathing to the count.  It's so soothing and it helps me to calm down.  I've learned that deep breathing is a great way to relax and to relieve anxiety.  I highly recommend you check it out.

Organized To-Do List
I've been learning how to better organize my to-do list.  I wish I still had all the wonderful links but I have yet to organize enough to keep track of them!  Basically, it's helpful to keep things written down.  It lessens my anxiety and gives me a place to look when I need to figure out what I should be doing.  I tend to let things stack up and then I worry about them.  By making a to-do list, I'm able to stop worrying about forgetting to do something.  Everything I need is on my list you see...  But a to-do list isn't good enough to cut it for me.  It has to be organized.  Some tips include making things specific (rather than writing "Do Christmas Shopping" I wrote "Go to CVS Saturday to purchase doll for Katie"), organize them by priority (things with higher priority go near the top so I don't loose them in the list), keep separate lists for short term vs long term (certain items are long term goals and I don't want them cluttering up my list everyday), and make sure items move on the list (the point of the list is to get things done; therefore I expect myself to finish at least three things per day and to add new ones as they come up).  Microsoft OneNote has really helped me to work on this goal and it's helped me to be more successful and productive lately.  It's also decreased my anxiety level because I keep a separate list of everything I've accomplished in the past week so I can feel proud of my accomplishments and feel like the list isn't a mountain to climb over.

Headphones
My desk at work isn't in the most ideal place.  It's across from the office printer.  That's right folks.  Every time someone in our department of about seventy-five people prints something, I sit there and listen to the printer.  It's annoying.  And then they walk over to get their printed paper.  And sometimes they bring a friend.  And they talk.  It's maddening.  So I brought my noise reducing headphones to work and put all my music on my phone.  And so the music helped.  But I found that I got distracted by it sometimes.  And I don't always have relaxing music on my phone.  Then I realized that I have a white noise app on my phone that has the sounds of waves crashing on the beach!  The beach is my happy place, and where I feel most relaxed.  Now I listen to the ocean while I'm at work.  I still hear the printer in the background, but the sounds in my headphones help to relieve some of the stress and keep me focused.

Screen Brightness
I lowered the brightness of all my computer screens (yes, I have more than one).  I don't need to be looking at a glaring screen all day if I can read it fine without the bright lights.  The bright light of the screen isn't the greatest for your eyes and it was starting to give me headaches.

Walks
My breaks are now dedicated to walking around the office.  The act of walking around and getting out that pent up energy has started to really help me.  Can I really get in good exercise from walking around work?  Well my building is sort of a half of a mile long from end to end.  And I happen to work on one end.  While I don't have time to walk the mile down and back on a short break, I have plenty of room to walk around and to change some scenery.

Reading
Reading is another stress reducer that I've given another try.  Rather than watching TV before bed, I've started to read.  I've had problems with this before (I tend to get caught up in a good book and can't put it down, thus not sleeping when I should be) but now I'm trying really hard just to stick to two chapters a night (depending on a book).  I heard on the radio that reading is the best stress reliever, and that it's better than watching TV.  I just finished one of my books and I really need to get going on another one.

Well there you have it, some tips and tricks I've been following to help reduce my anixety and to lead a less stressful life!

Reunion Fun

My high school reunion was this past weekend.  It was... interesting to say the least.  I surprisingly had a great time.  I went with my friends (who I didn't hang out with in high school - we became friends after we graduated) and Rudy made the trip up for the weekend (and blew off his own reunion).  A few surprises from the night:

1) Senior year, my prom date treated me like crap.  He ignored me, failed to tell me I looked nice (this is a big no-no!  ALWAYS compliment your date no matter what!), and waved at me from the car when he dropped me off.  Not even a hug goodbye or anything.  We hung out once after graduation, and I was invited to dinner with his family via text message after he graduated college, but declined.  He texted me last week to see if I wanted to go to the reunion together.  I politely explained I was going with friends.  I also made sure that he knew when it was because the whole thing was planned and advertised via Facebook and he doesn't have one.  I'm such a nice person.  In the end, he walked up to me, shook my hand, and walked away.  A 20 second encounter.  Rudy says he was watching me the whole night.  Go figure.

2) I had a boy torture me in high school because he was threatened by a smart girl.  Loser.  Anyway, I didn't really want to see him every again.  Sure enough he was there.  Not only was he there, he was in the group behind us in line as we had to wait for a half hour to get into the bar.  Joy.  He was talking to my friend, and another guy.  I went over because I figured it would be good to get it out of the way.  He didn't remember my name but remembered my face apparently, and insisted on giving me a hug.  I gave him a dirty look back.  Then he made some comment about how he wasn't living in our hometown anymore, like it was a bad thing to still live there with my parents.  His friend jumped in and explained that the asshole was living with his parents, just in an apartment in a different town. I said something mean.  I'm not a mean person.  But he's the only one that I think pissed me off enough that I wanted a bit of revenge.  So I said "Wow, that makes me feel a lot happier about my own situation!"  His friend started laughing and wanted to know where this version of me was five years ago.  I smiled and walked away.  I realized that the asshole was just as much a loser now as five years ago.  I mean, who shows up to a five year reunion wearing a Kermit the Frog hat on backwards and a Penn State t-shirt?

3) I saw an old "friend" at a bar a few weeks ago.  Talk about awkward.  She knew all about my mom (but not the details because she assumed my mom's tumor had been removed -- never going to happen) and wanted me to know she was there for me.  Good grief.  Turns out she was too drunk to make it in the bar for the reunion.  Another friend had to put her up in a hotel room for the night so she could sleep it off.  Classy.

So really, it all went pretty well.  The high school popular girls were drinking by themselves, refusing to talk to anyone.  The middle tier was basking in attention from all the popular guys who suddenly noticed them after they had gone off to college girls and come back women.  The bottom tier showed up looking completely different and with social skills to boot.  And then there were the no-shows, a few of which were surprising.  Some people were abroad and unable to attend, but a good amount just didn't show.  I think some of them were scared to face the rest of us after tormenting us in high school.

We'll see how the ten year goes.  I told Rudy we could go to his ten year if he wanted because he came to my five.  He was excited about that.  I can't wait to try to pass off as a student from his high school.  I'll just say I was the triangle player in the band :-)

Apartment Hunting

I thought long and hard about how to handle my situation.  On one hand, I like living at home.  My parents have a very nice house.  I don't pay to live here.  I get to hang out with my mom a lot, and be there for her.  I get to eat yummy goodies that people drop by the house.  My car now has a space in the garage, so no shoveling snow off it come wintertime.  And my dog is here.  All valuable things to consider.

On the other hand, I offered to pay my parents the money they've (well my dad's) been requesting for rent in return for having my privacy in my room.  I was laughed at, mocked, and called crazy (and then "All the Single Ladies" was turned into "All the Crazy Ladies" for my benefit).  I finally got him to understand that it was important to me to have my own space, and he told me I wasn't allowed to speak.  That I would keep my room clean to his standards.  I explained that we had different standards and I wouldn't live like that.  Then he started to compromise.  I was told I could do whatever I wanted but he would check it once a month.  Again, told him that wasn't acceptable.  Finally he agreed that he would give me my privacy but that I'm not allowed to have food or drinks in my room.  To which I replied it's ridiculous to not allow someone water in their own room.

While it seems like progress, he did not understand what the big deal was.  Therefore, I give him two weeks before he changes his mind about the whole thing.  Plus, it's not just the privacy issue.  It's an issue of me walking through the door and being told to make dinner.  No "Hi!  How was your day?"  Just, "You're on supper duty and I'm hungry!"  Nice to see you too.  It's being yelled at for leaving my purse on the kitchen table because "only food belongs on there".  It's being criticized for picking up my phone when he called me at work.  It's being treated like an object, rather than a person.  It's being told that I need to be nicer to him because of "all he's done for me".  After all, he's put food in my mouth (I've been buying the groceries I eat), clothing me (hasn't bought me clothes since I turned 18, but apparently I need to be grateful for the other 18 years), and putting a roof over my head (he has me there).  I just don't think I can take it anymore.

I found a nice apartment.  It's safe, half way between work and home (so my commute would be easier but I could get home any time I wanted), its in my budget, and it's actually really nice.  It's not the Ritz, but it's a first apartment.  And it would be mine.  So I could leave my boots on the floor if I wanted to.  I could have a water bottle in my bedroom if I wanted to.  And I could do what I wanted to.  I'm 24.  It's time for me to move on.

I put in an application.  I have a few more questions for the rental company thanks to my first father (who was honored that I asked him for advice).  I'm still on the fence.  Things have gotten better the last few days at home.  But that doesn't mean they'll stay that way.  But I don't really love the thought of living by myself.  And I think that I'd almost rather stay home for a bit until I find an apartment that's not in a complex.  Those are harder to find, but sometimes work out a little bit better.  We'll see.

My parents don't know about the apartment yet.  I haven't told them because a) I'm not allowed to upset my mother, and b) my parents don't want me to move and therefore will do whatever it takes to keep me at home. So I need to make up my mind about moving before I talk to them.  Because I need to have an out.  I'm 24, they don't control me and I have my own life to live.

We'll see what happens.  I'm not sure.  I might not even get the apartment.  Only time will tell.  But it's guaranteed to be an interesting week.

Training Exercise

When I was in college, I became a RA (resident assistant) in order to help offset some of the cost of my education.  The cost of attendance of my university was close to $50,000 my junior year and over $50,000 my senior year.  Oh the joys of a private education.  Side note: Colleges don't warn you that tuition goes up.  And your scholarships don't.  My loans went up every year as did the interest rates.  Welcome to my life as a recent college grad with upwards of $80,000 of debt.

Moving on.  I became a RA because I was going to help offset some of the cost.  And because I had it in my head that maybe I could help someone.  I had a great RA my sophomore year and I wanted to be that RA.  If I knew then what I know now...

When I look back on the experience, I get caught up on this one training exercise senior year.  Various RAs were asked to come up with training exercises.  I was in a bad mood during RA training.  I had been sick for a month.  Try being sick every single minute of a month and then try to put on a happy face and get everyone else motivated.  It was hell.  With me being sent to the ER in a grand finale on move in day.  I had also just seen my non-identifying information.  My identity was rocked to the core.  I didn't know who I was anymore because it was so different than I thought it would be.  I had to question everything my parents had ever told me.  It was a horrible time and I went through it alone.

So that was the frame of mind I was in during this training session.  I say this because what happened turned into a major teaching moment and I didn't take it.  Anyway, a group of RAs decided that it would be a great idea to show everyone that we had a lot of diversity in the room.  I went to a prominently white school.  Our RA staff was mostly white, but we did have a large number of minority students.  Looking around the auditorium with about 75 people in it (all the RAs and supporting staff), the vast majority were white.  And the minority students were all at the front doing a diversity presentation.

The intent was the show that even though most of us were of the same race, there were other things that made us diverse.  So ethnicity came up.  And guess who was the first student that had to stand up and declare their ethnicity to the entire room of 75 people because she foolishly chose a seat in the front of the room so she might learn something?

Faceplam moment.  Here I was, questioning everything, and I have to declare to a whole room that I didn't have a single clue about something that the majority of the room knew their whole life.  I didn't trust the paperwork.  I didn't trust my adoptive parents.  I honestly didn't know.  Everything was a guess on my part.  I failed in that moment.  I said I was white and sat back down.  I had no time to prepare.  I don't think well on my feet.  The exercise was re-clarified because they assumed I thought race and ethnicity was the same thing and it moved on.  How embarrassing.

As far as I know, out of the 75 of us, there were only two adoptees in the auditorium.  The other adoptee was in the back and had more time to think about it.  He stated passionately that he was American rather than list another ethnicity.  However, he was a political science major who is very into politics, so nobody thought any differently about it.

I've replayed that moment over and over in my head.  In my head, I stand up, take a breath, and state "Unknown due to adoption".  A few people would scratch their heads, but I can guarantee that everyone would have thought about it at some point or another.  And the organizers of the exercise would have taken a minute to realize that in their attempt to promote sensitivity for minorities, they were insensitive to another group.

I'm not saying that it was a flawed exercise.  And at some point, any activity is going to have an "ouch" moment for one group of people.  But it's something that will stick with me.  The assumptions that were made about my intelligence (because I didn't "know" the different between race and ethnicity), and the condescending attitudes I had to endure for the remainder of the week for "ruining" their exercise stuck with me.  The fact that nobody took the time at the beginning to give people an out in case they didn't know.  There are plenty of people who may not know their ethnicity.

It's now over two years later, and I'm still thinking about that exercise.  I learned a lot that day and the days that followed.  I'm not the same person anymore.  I would say "Unknown due to adoption" now.  Progress.  That's something right?

Conversations With Mom

I was thinking the other day about adult adoptees and adoptive parents.  Lots of drama has been happening lately, but what really got to me was the way that some adoptive parents reacted to adult adoptees.  These adoptees, who have been there for me when I was free falling after a stalled reunion a year ago, were dismissed, called names, and told they were unwanted.  By adoptive parents.  I was stunned.  I'd heard of this happening before, but had never witnessed it.  I never thought that adoptive parents would treat adoptees that way.  Adoption is supposed to be about adoptees, isn't it?  Adoptive parent should respect adoptees, adult or not, as someone who was adopted and therefore shares something with their children.  We may not all think alike, but we do deserve to be respected enough as people.

I was blown away.  Mostly because I know some amazing adoptive parents.  My own being some of them.  My mother NEVER would have spoken to these adoptees the way some of the APs were attacking Joy and Von.  She would have been horrified.  My mother is near sainthood in my book.  Not because of adopting me.  Side story time!

A healing statue was brought to a Church near where we live.  Naturally, we want to bring my mother there.  So off we go, even though it's not her best time of day.  We get to the Church, say a prayer, make a donation, have our rosary beads blessed, and sit for a few minutes in quiet reflection.  My mother starts to fade a bit, so it is time to leave while she still has the ability to walk by herself.  As we get ready to go, a family walks in the side door.  They have a little boy who very clearly was sick.  The family is there to pray and hope for a miracle.  My mother sees them walk in and refuses to leave.  She wants to make sure she can say a prayer for the little boy.  She is exhausted.  She hasn't left the house in days.  She feels horrible.  We are drenched from the rain.  But she stays on that uncomfortable Church bench because she wants to say a prayer for that little boy.  He is more important to her, someone she's never met, than the nice warm car.  She's amazing.

Moving on.  Back in July, my mom and I went on vacation.  More like she went on vacation and I continued my attempt at nursing duties.  It was right before the Adoptee Rights Protest, and I was sad to be missing it.  My mother was with it enough to notice I was sad.  She asked me about it, and we had the following conversation.

Mom: Jenn, what's up?  You don't seem yourself.

Jenn:  Oh, I'm fine Mom.  I'm just a little bummed.  My friends are going to a protest in San Antonio but I couldn't go.  I'm just sad to miss it.

Mom: A protest?  What for?

Jenn:  Well, it's to petition the government to unseal birth certificates for adult adoptees.  When you adopted me, my original birth certificate was sealed, and I can't get it without a court order because of the year I was born.  Had I been born before 1972 or after 2008, I would have been able to get that document at 18.  But myself and the majority of adult adoptees in the country cannot access our birth information.  We're the only group in the US who cannot access that information.  I know several people who can't even get passports or driver's licenses because they can't prove they were born in the US.  They need a document for the government that the government prohibits them from having.

Mom:  Well that's… that's just not right.  It's not, you know, fair! (for my mother who suffers from word aphasia, the fact she got these words right is amazing)

Jenn:  I know.  It's not fair.

Mom:  I'm glad your friends are protesting.

Jenn:  Me too Mom.

My mother believes that people should be on equal footing.  She raised me that way.  She believes in equality.  She was the first person to tell me I wasn't "less then" for being adopted.  She taught me to stand up for what I believe in.  She's my biggest fan, and my fiercest defender.  At least she was…  If she doesn't agree with someone, she at least respects the other person as a person, a human, and hears them out.  Without calling them names.  Or telling them they were unwanted. Or saying other nasty things.  I know she isn't the only adoptive parent out there who feels that way.  I've been lucky enough to meet some others floating around online in adoptoland.  And I'm really happy that they exist.  So if you are one of those adoptive parents, thank you for being out there.

I'm very lucky to have my adoptive mother as my mother.  I'm glad that my mother supports me.  She backs me up.  Even when she's sick, she puts others first.  Because that's who she is.  And she's on my side.  For that, I'll always be thankful.

Coming Apart

The Kitchen Sink

Wow Jenn.  That's an... interesting photo you have there.  Is that the kitchen sink?

Good eye!  It is the kitchen sink!  And it's coming apart...

My grandparent's kitchen sink was about to explode a few months ago.  Like it was coming apart faster than they could tie rags to it to hold everything together.  Even without the sink "on" water would fly everywhere to the point where they nearly had to shut off the water flow completely to the kitchen.  For my grandparents, this was not only a pain, it also became a huge problem as they wash all their dishes by hand.  Not having a kitchen sink was not an option for them and they had to get a new facet ASAP.

What does this have to do with adoption?  Good question!  It has a lot to do with adoption.  More specifically, it has a lot to do with my recent reunion.

When I was adopted, there was a little hole in the facet.  It was easily patched and everyone moved on with their lives, for a while.  I lived with my adoptive parents, who cared and raised me, and my first parents went on with their lives as if I hadn't been born (or at least they tired).  I went to school, made friends, took ballet lessons, and they got married, had other children, changed jobs, etc.  My adoptive parents got to raise a child, something they had always wanted to do, and my larger adoptive family got another member.  Things seemed to be going really well for a while.  The leak was patched.

And then I started to get older and I started to wonder about my first parents.  I wanted to know who they were, why they put me up for adoption, and where I came from.  My adoptive parents didn't have those answers, and tried to patch up my questions by adding another layer.

What if they don't want to be found?

You could ruin their lives you know.

You already have a family.  Why not be happy with them/us?

On and on it went.  The patches continued.  And we went on with our lives, but the patches weren't holding up as much.  As for me, it became pretty clear that my adoption story was being covered up by all of these obscuring pieces of cloth trying to hold the dam back.

Turning off the "water", or the fact that I was adopted, wasn't an option for me.  I've always known I was adopted, and I couldn't change that fact.  No matter how badly I wanted to, it just wasn't possible for me to make believe that I was my parents biological daughter.  I wish that I could be so many times.  But I'm not.  And I will never be.  So I have to find another solution.

Entering into reunion, was my way of starting over.  It was my way of getting a new facet.  And while not perfect (there are still a few leaks in the new facet), I feel like my identity as a person is much more solid now.  I feel as though things are going better for me to the point where I'm not afraid to turn the water on.  It's a work in progress, but I don't take a bath anymore when exploring those issues.  I still get "wet" and emotional from time to time.  I still hurt from time to time.  But overall, I'm so happy that I'm not dealing with the bad patches and the makeshift sink.  I deserve better.

PS- Happy birthday Rudy!

How'd Things Get Like This?

A flower from my garden
because I felt like adding it!

As per yesterday's post, I've decided to be more open in real life when it comes to my reunion.  Letting the chips fall where they may.  It's a scary, yet liberating thought.  I'm not hiding things anymore.  I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders.  I've been slowly working towards this for a while.  Telling my family back in April was a big step.  I was prepared for fallout from my adoptive aunts (and uncles and cousins).  I was not expecting that the one person who would not be supportive was my sister, the only other adoptee in my family.  The only person who I thought would know what I was going through.  It just goes to show that different adoptees feel different ways.  My story and my truth is not her truth.  She is her own person with her own ideas and those ideas are very different from mine when it comes to my search and reunion.

Dealing with the fallout from my adoptive sister was hard.  I'm finally ready to move past that.  I've realized that it's my life, and I need to make my own choices.  Just because my sister told me to go f myself and never speak to her again about my reunion doesn't mean I have to play by those rules.  I did play by those rules and nothing got better.  We're still not speaking.  We don’t have a relationship.  So you know what?  I'm not playing by rules that make me miserable and don't change anything or solve anything between us.

Looking back, I can see what happened.  I was nervous before because I wasn't sure if my family would be supportive.  And they were with the exception of my sister.  Go figure.  Anyway, due to our blow up fight, I sort of went back into the adoption closet.  I would answer questions sort of when asked about it, but I wasn't very honest with my family.  Part of it was also the fact that my adoptive mother is very sick.  I don't want to add to their collective burden.

What made me change my mind?  I realized that my reunion is a good thing for me.  It's one of the few good things I have going for me.  Some days, it IS the only good thing I have going for me.  It's not perfect, but it's still more positive than negative.  So why should I keep that a secret?  I'm not saying I have to bring it up all the time, but I don't see the harm in mentioning a short story here or there.  Or letting people know who I'm talking to when I get a phone call.  If it makes me happy, I'm not going to hide it.  I shouldn't have to.  It's not me.

I was really miserable.  I've been super miserable.  And something needs to change because I'm going to lose my mind if it doesn't.  There are certain things I do not have control over.  But what I can control is my attitude towards those things.

I've been stressed about keeping things from my adoptive family so they won't get hurt or have to deal with another added thing.  I can continue to do this and continue to be unhappy, or I can take my own advice and treat it the way I want others to treat it.  By acting like it's no big deal, others will hopefully learn to see that it isn't one.  This has the potential to backfire on me.  I know it can.  But that being said, I'm going to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.  If things backfire, it's not a reflection on me, it's a reflection on the insecurities of others.  If they can't handle one other person in my life right now, then they aren't really worthy of being in my life anyway.  I deserve better by my family.

New Era

My Identity Is Top Secret

My ideas are shifting.  That's one of the reasons why I love blogging.  I can go back and look at what I wrote and how I felt several months ago and I can see how my thinking has changed.  This is a good thing as I make progress, and a bad thing when I don't.

I've been thinking lately about my adoptive grandmother.  As a backstory, I have three living grandparents from my adoptive family.  My paternal grandfather died five years ago and I miss him very much.  We were very close and he was a huge part of my life.  Nobody else in my family got the way my mind worked, only him.  I would come to him with a wild idea and he would sit down with me and help me translate it into real life.  If circumstances had been different for him in life, he would have been an engineer.  His mind just worked that way.  Not that I'm not incredibly proud of him.  I am.  I'm proud my grandfather worked on the alarms for Boston Fire Department.  He had a very noble job.  And he worked hard to support his family.  But his mind worked a certain way, and mine was similar.

My maternal grandparents are amazing people.  They raised eight children and have an awesome family.  We're all very close to each other, and I think that's saying a lot.  I haven't always seen eye to eye with them (they come from a different generation) but I love them despite that.  They are there for me in whatever way they can be, and as I gotten older, we've become a lot closer.  I don't know what I would do without them these days.  A while back, I told them I had found my first family.  I didn't give them details, but shared I had found them in order to get medical information.  They were very quiet (which I expected) and I let them know what was going on without sharing too much with them.  They don't want to know.  I get that and respect it 100%.  They don't know that I've met my first father.  We haven't talked about my reunion in a long time.  It's not that I'm not willing to be open about it, I just don't want to shove it down their throats.  And if they ask, or if it were to come up naturally, I'd tell them.  I feel I can be open with them.

My paternal grandmother is a different story.  I love her to death.  I do.  But she can be a challenging person to deal with.  I have lived with her off and on since my grandfather died.  I spend weekends there  now and then (and now that she has wireless, I'll probably be spending a lot of weekends there in the future).  She gives me a nice place to escape to.  However, ever since my grandfather died, she's been different.  My grandmother has a lot of time on her hands.  And she knows how to use the phone.  So if there's any type of news ever, she's on the phone sharing it with others.  And she tends to spin things her own way.  She leaves out key details to make things look horrible for whoever has pissed her off the most lately.  As her family, we know this and know to double check things.  But others don't always know this and we've often had to clean up her messes.  She's an old lady and I don't think she always does it on purpose, but it happens.

I used to be scared of this.  I know how my grandmother feels about my adoption.  She's the only one who remembers my adoption date.  She sends me cards on the day my a-parents brought me home.  She tells me all the time how thankful she is that I came into her life.  I don't see her being happy about me finding my first family.  I decided not to tell her and asked my family members not to say anything to her.  They all agreed.  My adoptive parents were very supportive of everything, but they asked me not to tell my grandmother.  And my aunts and uncles all asked the same thing.  So out of respect for them, I haven't told her.  But I've also decided not to keep it a secret anymore.  I've been spending less time at her house because I don't want her to see a text message, or overhear a phone call between me and my first father.  I've decided this needs to stop.  If she sees something, then she can ask about it.  And I'll explain as best I can.  But I won't lie.  My family will just have to deal with it.

I'm tired of treating this like a secret.  It's not good for me.  I'm too stressed out about it.  So I'm taking that stress off the table.  The chips will fall where they may.  I won't instigate anything, but I won't lie about it either.  From this day on, I'm being 100% open.  No more weirdness, no more awkwardness, and no more hiding things.  Welcome to the new age of Jenn's life.  Enjoy the ride.

Expectations

My first father asked me about expectations last week.  What were my expectations going into reunion?  It got me thinking about what I thought I'd get out of a reunion with him.  I think that so often we focus so much on our mothers, that we forget about the fathers.  I can see why.  Our mothers are the ones who carried us.  They gave birth to us.  It is our bond with them that is debated about in the Primal Wound theory.  So naturally I can see why we so often focus on them.  After all, a woman gives birth so without a doubt she's the mother.  In some cases the father is really unknown, or he doesn't know, or he walks away and can pretend it's not his kid.  So I get it I do.  But I don't think we should always write them off so easily.

I wrote mine off from a young age.  I'll admit to that.  My parents knew about him.  They knew his first name, his birthday (and how young he was), as well as a few traits.  They had family information about both my first parents that they never shared.  Before anyone sees this as an attack on my parents, it isn't.  My parents are awesome.  I love them to death.  And I honestly think they got so caught in in the mentality that I was their kid and nobody else's that they forgot.  They don't see me as anyone else's kid but their own.  So they never looked at the files.  They never thought that I would want to know those things.  And they probably thought it would be harder for me to deal with knowing my first father was in the picture when I was born.  For whatever reason, they kept all information about him from me.  I had to find it on my own.

I never even thought about him until I was a teenager.  I was so caught up in the idea that being adopted didn't matter and hero worshiping my first mother that the thought of him never crossed my mind.  My parents were always really open about me being adopted.  It was never a secret or something to be ashamed of in my family.  But just because it was that way in my family doesn't mean I didn't hear it elsewhere.  Kids can be cruel.  Whenever someone would ask me about being adopted, I'd tell them I was ok with  it.  It wasn't any different, our family just came together in a different way.  And someday when I was older, I was going to find my first mother (who at the time I called my birth mother).  That's when the questions would start.  What if my mother was raped?  What if my father abandoned my mother?  What if she wasn't a good person?  Why would I want to find her someday?  What if she didn't want to be found?  After a while, I started to believe those things too.  I was scared of what I would find, but I searched anyway.

Learning about my first father in my non-identifying information was hard.  I had never truly considered him before.  I never really took the time to think about what he meant to me.  It's silly.  I'm a smart girl.  I know it takes both a man and a woman to make a baby.  I get half my DNA from him.  So I should have thought about it, but I didn't.  I guess it's really hard to picture someone you know absolutely nothing about.  I started digging around online and learned my first parents at some point had been married.  I was thrilled.  I was happy I had come out of something that was good, a real relationship.  Even if they had gotten divorced, they still had a real marriage at one point.  I couldn't have been happier!

Then when I started talking to my first mother, she started to tell me things about my first father.  It wasn't all good.  I know a lot of things about him that daughters don't always want to know about their fathers.  It was hard for me to think about what he would be like when I was hearing things like he was a "player" and wasn't "exclusive".  As we kept emailing, I started asking more questions about him.  What was he like?  What kind of person was he?  I couldn't ask him and respect her wishes to be the one to tell him we were in touch, so I had to go through her.  And she started to tell me wonderful things.  Things like he's a great father and a wonderful husband.  Things like he'd do anything for his family and spends lots of time with his kids.  For someone's who's father wasn’t around all that much as a kid, it was hard to hear but wonderful at the same time.  Yet I had no clue what to expect.  He could after all feel the same way about reunion as my first mother.

I think my expectations have been blown out of the water.  I never ever would have expected that we would have the kind of relationship where we would send text messages back and forth, email and talk once a week, and even that I would have to make sure to check in with him so he doesn't worry.  He's my father and I love him.  I never would have expected that.

One Year

A year ago today I got in touch with my first father for the first time. I sent him a Facebook message, he responded, and the rest is history.

I can't believe how far we've come in a year. We started with emails, added phone calls, and we've met twice. Things aren't always perfect, but its working for me right now. It's also a year since I've semi-ended contact with my first mother. I say semi-ended because I do hear from her from time to time. It's usually around holidays and most of the time it's me reaching out to her, but it's at least something, which is better than nothing. I miss her and I wish things were better, but it is what it is and I can't change that. Not right now anyway. Maybe things will get better for us someday.

I can't believe how far I've come over the past year. A year ago, I was still in a place where I felt as if I was betraying my adoptive family by searching. It was something that I had to do, but I wasn't able to be open with any of them. I have since told my family about my reunion, it's become less of a big deal, and I have no problem sharing that part of my life with others (except for my grandmother - another story for another day).

I've become more open, I've been working on my issues, and I've been recognizing when I'm triggered. I know not to watch certain movies, I understand when things are triggering and I'm able to take a step back and realize when I'm overreacting. I have a long way to go in what I'm considering a "recovery" period, and I'm still adjusting at times. I have bad days for sure, but I'm noticing that they are fewer and father between. I'm much more secure in myself, and I'm much more secure in my reunion. All and all, things are going a lot better for me than they were a year ago.

It's been a wild ride. Yet it's something I wouldn't trade for the world. I'm a firm believer that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'm a much stronger person now that I ever was. I know I can take a lot of crap and deal with things that most people don't have to deal with, and come out on the other side mostly in one piece. I've also learned when to take a step back when it's too much. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm slowly getting there.

Thanks for reading!

Note: Facebook deleted the message so this is all I have, a copy in a word file.

Adoption Checklist

I like these posts... Here's one just about adoption.

Sometimes adoption is a roller-coaster I just want off of.  C'est la vie!

Acceptance in an Unlikely Place

So here's a story that I haven't told on here yet.  My boyfriend Rudy and I have been dating for five years (scary) which means that at this point, I know everyone in his family.  His family is a bit scattered, but I've seen them enough to start to get to know them and they live close enough to me that I'm hoping to get to know them even better.  I have a very skewed sense of family thanks to my wonderful adoption (just a hint of sarcasm there) so I tend to accept a lot of people as family pretty quickly.

Rudy's cousin got married last summer (well I guess more like two summers ago now that it's sort of fall) and as the girlfriend for (then three and a half) years, I was invited.  It was a casual outdoor wedding, so I was actually invited by the mother of the groom (Rudy's aunt) and never got a formal invite.  Talk about awkward.  It ended up being fantastic and I had the best time.  I've come to love Rudy's family a lot.  I get along great with his cousins who remind me of my own.  His aunts and uncles have been so welcoming of me.  And don't even get me started on Rudy's grandmother, possibly one of the sweetest women I've ever met.  His other side of the family is great too, just in a different way.  In a "we only see you a few times a year way."  The weirdest part about that is they actually live pretty close, but the family as a whole isn't always that close.  So go figure.

Anyway, back to the point.  Apparently, Rudy's aunt was a little bit of a rebel when she went to college.  She fell in love, dropped out, moved in with her new boyfriend, and never told her parents who continued to pay for school as well as room and board.  Rudy's grandmother is an extreme Catholic, so this was a huge no-no.  Whoops!  Anyway, when there was a marriage in the family, Rudy's now-uncle was still the boyfriend.  When it came time for the family pictures, he was asked to step away.  Even though he was planning on marrying Rudy's aunt, he was not "part of the family" yet and therefore not invited to be in the pictures.  Now I don't know the proper etiquette for this, but that's besides the point.  The point is that he felt left out.

Cue the wedding of the cousin, Rudy's now uncle's son (if you can follow that logic).  I never even got an official invite from the bride and groom (and I sensed that the bride may not have really wanted me there all that much).  So when it came time to take pictures, I offered to hold the jackets.  It was a family moment after all.  Turns out, Rudy's uncle wouldn't have any of that.  He was determined to make sure that everyone knew that while I may not have a ring, I was a part of that family too.  And I was going to be in that family picture.  So into the picture I went.

It was so simple.  It would have been so easy to leave me out, but they didn't.  They wanted me to feel included.  And it wasn't a big deal.  The world didn't end.  The bride and groom didn't freak out.  And over a year later, I'm still in the picture.  I might be in the picture for a long time if the hints I've been getting turn out to be true.

This came up yet again.  Rudy was visiting a few weeks ago and mentioned that his grandmother wanted to give me some jewelry.  Apparently Rudy's brother's girlfriend isn't getting any because she's not sure if they are going to stay together.  But Rudy's grandmother believes in our relationship so much that she'd like to give me family jewelry because she knows it will "stay in the family".  I was so touched when he told me that.  Naturally, I'm now going to avoid any jewelry for a while because it's a bit awkward, but I was touched never the less that she considers me to be family without any pomp and circumstance.  Why can't all family relationships be that simple?  Why can I so easily be accepted into a stranger's family (not really a stranger, but he was to me five years and a month ago) but not the family that I was born into?

These things I don't think I will ever truly understand.  I'm trying really hard.  At the same time, I'm going to love this family who has accepted me the way that the deserve to be loved.  They are special people and I'm very lucky to have them in my life.

Guest Post By A First Mother: birthmomtalks

Today's post is from a Guest Blogger, birthmomtalks. I'm a huge fan of her blog and I'm so happy to feature a post by one of my favorite first mom writers!

A little introduction about myself.

I became pregnant at 14 and the father of the baby basically either didn't believe me, was in denial or just plain wasn't around anymore to escape the reality that he helped create life and the Mother also happened to be a miner. I was forced my Mom to place my daughter for adoption. I met and agreed that the couple my Aunt knew could adopt my daughter. It seemed like the lesser of two evils to have someone that family knew compared to complete strangers. My age and lack of knowing anything about adoption was used against me when it came to knowing my rights and my daughter went home with her parents at the age of one day old.
Shortly, after my daughter turned 18 years of age, I found her on a social network site. Halloween will mark the one year anniversary of meeting my daughter face to face for the first time since we parted after she was 24 hours old. I am grateful for the moments I have with my daughter and our communications here and there but I will never be Mom and that is hard pill to swallow. Also, I will never know my daughter like I know my sons that I have raised.

What I have learned from adult adoptees?

I think the biggest thing that I have learned from adult adoptees through blogging is that not ONE adoptee is the same. Some may have similar stories of their beginning of life and how they became to be adopted but just cause one person feels one way doesn't mean that others will feel the same way. However, I have come to think of a couple grown adoptees as friends through reading each other's blogs. They and many other adoptees have given me insight from their side of things and also have reminded me of how some of my daughter's interactions with me can be about her age too. It makes me feel good when they instant message me because of how they feel sad when it comes to something about adoption and/or reunion. Sometimes, they contact me to catch up on how things are doing with the reunion is going with my daughter. I am grateful that blogging my story has connected me to people that I never other wise would have came in contact with.

A little about what has helped me heal a little more through the last few years.

Counseling thru an Adoption Agency has helped quite a bit. I didn't place thru there so I felt like they had nothing to gain from helping me or not helping me. I didn't pay for it. Before counseling, I was not only missing my daughter but I had been feeling very alone. I felt like I was living a double life and was angry at my family for always sweeping my daughter on the rug. I have become stronger and just willing to accept that some of them are just not going to change. I now know that it's not about me or my daughter. It's about them and possible about their guilt. I have been able to accept that the majority of people just don't understand the loss and pain that I have suffered and it's okay. Before counseling I thought only in black and white. I thought mostly negative thoughts about my daughter's parents but during counseling I was able to see that in a lot of ways that they were not all that different than me. I have my own fears and insecurities in life and they have their own fears and insecurities. What I have come to learn that we both are driven by the love that we all have for our daughter. During counseling, I came to see how they treated me has a lot to do with the times. It was what was normal and they are only as good as the education and training they received when they were going the adoption process.

Another major rule in finding healing and acceptance in my role as a birthmother in my life journey has been blogging. It has given me a voice to share my truths about the loss of a child due to adoption. I mentioned above about having been brought together by grown adoptees thru blogging and it's the same with prospective and adoptive couples. I have learned more about the struggles couples go thru leading up to adoption and the roadblocks they must hurdle to be able to adopt. I have read their words of love of gushing over their new babies and my heart has been pulled in many directions. Mostly, I feel for the birthmothers can I can relate to their pain the most. However, I do see the happiness that has been brought to the adoptive couples and the love that they gush on and on has let me see that adoptive parents can and most do love their children just as much as I love mine. I really like it when I see adoptive parents understanding that adoption doesn't just create families that first families are broke part. I hope that when they can accept that part of adoption that they can honor their children's birthparents but more so honor and respect their children's beginnings in life. Because in adoption the adoptees are truly the only party without a say in the matter.

Lastly, if your reading this blog post which I am honored to be able to be a part of to show a different perspective on adoption and my advice to all you bloggers or even non bloggers to let blogs like the one your reading and others be a place where you can grow from other's experiences that they share through blogging. I don't mean to say that as in to develop or sway someone's opinion on something like adoption but more so just so that maybe you can see things in a different light and just maybe you can get a better understanding on why a certain party acted this way or that way. It might not make the hurt go away but just maybe it can ease the pain if you can get a glimpse into someone else' s story.

Spectrum

I tend to come in late to the party. I think this is because I often read blog postings on Google Reader and so I miss comments unless I have time to visit each individual blog and check out the comments. So if there are great comments on blogs, I tend to miss them unless I feel the need to comment on that particular post. I've been trying to catch up on some of the comments lately because I think some of the best stuff comes from the comments. I get the most insights reading what people have to post. I'll admit that I read some blogs simply for the comments.

Anyway, I was reading one batch of comments the other day and a point came up that really got me thinking. The comment was about the spectrum. There most certainly is a spectrum. Not every adoptee feels the same way about adoption. Put three random adoptees in a room and chances are they have three different opinions. I think part of the problem with adoption reform is that adoptees have a hard time agreeing on things and then we get upset because we each have our own truths and sometimes adoptees try to tell others that their truth isn't THE truth.

Confusing I know. I truly believe there is a spectrum. On one side, you have adoptees who are able to deal with the loss of adoption and it does not affect their lives. I think that adoption does involve loss for all adoptees, but some deal with it a lot better than others and it is extremely minimal in their lives. For these adoptees, that is their truth. Their truth means they are able to function in their lives without searching, without feeling pain from adoption, and without having to blog about it. They do exist and their feelings are real. And these are the adoptees that Adoptive Parents in the online world seem to hold up like trophies and say "See!? This is what my child is going to be like!" That's just one side of the spectrum. There's another side. The other side is the side that feels the crippling pain that can come from adoption and has trouble living their lives with that pain. Some of these adoptees are prime examples of the Primal Wound theory (which I have not read and thus add this disclaimer though I've heard it debated enough I get the gist of it). These adoptees I've found have a very strong voice online as they are trying to figure it out. Then you have those of us who fall in the middle. There is a huge range on this middle. And each adoptee is different.

I haven't been able to figure out what makes adoptees more inclined on one side or the other. I think some of it has to do with adoptive parents, but that's not the whole story. I had great adoptive parents, but I'm leaning more towards the painful side. I did search, and my adoptive parents supported those efforts. They weren't super involved, by my choice, but they did support me. So I can't say that's the sole trigger. In fact, I think because my adoptive parents are supportive, I've been able to explore my issues.

I've met people who are all over the spectrum. I've met people who are completely comfortable with their adoptions and don’t feel the loss of their first family. They don’t want to search, and I don't really think they are in denial. I also have met people who have searched and still feel a horrible pain they are not able to reconcile. They aren't imagining it either. I've also met people who are more in the middle. They know that there is pain from adoption, but they may not dedicate their lives to it. I don't think it's a one size fits all kind of thing. I think this is something that adoptees need to start to figure out. We need to acknowledge the spectrum. And we need to understand that it's not static. It changes over time. I used to be able to deal with the loss of adoption. Then I entered reunion and realized that I hadn't been dealing with it as well as I thought. I hope someday to get to a place where my pain and loss isn't always towards the front of my mind. Someday….