Adoption Baggage Go Away

I decided to take a chance and emailed my first parents.  I asked them for an update in a light, fluffy way.  It's the first email I've ever written and sent to them together.  Usually I deal with them completely separately, but because they want to meet me together, I have to deal with them as a unit.  I didn't want to have to do that, but who knows?  Maybe it will work out in an unexpected way.  I have a feeling it's the best way to approach this situation and I'm going to go with my gut on this one.  The way things have been lately, I'm sort of beyond the point of obsessing.  The chips are going to fall where they may.  Though I did email them yesterday and now it's today and I haven't heard back... So maybe this won't go my way after all.

I have some stuff going on in my life outside of adoption and my adoption baggage is getting in the way.  Ugh.  Thank you so much adoption baggage for making me feel insecure and for losing sight of the things that really matter.  Thank you so much adoption baggage for making me doubt the one person I shouldn't be doubting.  And thank you so much adoption baggage for adding an extra layer to an already layered life.  I so appreciate it.

However, to give myself lots of credit, I realized (a little late I know) that my adoption baggage was playing a role that I did not want it to play.  As in it was playing a major role in the shotgun position giving me bad directions and trying to get me lost when really I'd like it to be strapped on the roof of the car.  Sometimes it's all about realizing you have a problem.  Without admitting you have a problem, you can't work to fix it.  You can't work to make things better.  I know now that it's there.  Before I was listening to the bad directions.  Now I'm not.  I'm working on it.  I won't let it steer me in a bad direction.  I'm stronger than that.  I can handle anything.  I can handle my mom being so sick.  I can handle my dad being a jerk to me.  I can handle my first parents rejecting me for a second (and possibly third time).  I can handle family problems.  I can handle long distance problems.  I can do it.  I am stronger than I realize sometimes.

I am a fighter.  I will not let this baggage get the best of me.  It's not going to happen.  I won't let it.  Can I get a "Hell yeah!"? :-)

Getting Frustrated

So over the cycle

My first mother agreed to meet me the day that I asked her.  She emailed me back within a few hours and told me that she was going to discuss it with my first father.  I emailed her back a few days later and told her I was thrilled, and that I would like to bring my boyfriend if that was OK.  I framed it as a question.  My first father emailed me a few days later, and I emailed him back right away with some specifics.  I emailed him back my normal email a few days later.  I haven't heard back from either one of them at this point.

Sigh.  I wish I could say I was surprised.  I keep going over the situation in my mind, turning it around, wondering if I did something wrong or wasn't clear enough.  Each time, I come to the same conclusion.  I ended my last email to my first mother with a question.  It was clear that it was up to her to email me back.  My first father was clear; he'd let me know.  And I can hear the crickets.

The only thing I can think of is that I told my first parents that Rudy wasn't able to come up for a visit until the end of March.  So maybe they just figure they have a lot of time to get back to me.  Who knows?  I just wish I had a date.  I have to put in for a day off.  If I had known a few days ago, it would have been easier for Rudy to get the day off.  Now, he's going to have to call in sick.  Not good.  I'm getting a new boss in one week.  I sort of need to know the date.  Ugh.

I'm going to have to email to ask.  Which makes me look pushy I know.  I didn't want to have to push.  I was hoping that we'd be able to work this thing out without all the drama.  Whoops!  I should have known...  Chances are, I'm going to get an email from one or both of them saying that they've talked about it and it just isn't a good idea.  It's happened before.  My first mother with the phone call and my first father with telling my sisters about me.  Both times they strung me along and I had to ask them about it.  Neither one of them had the courage to come out and tell me outright, I had to ask them for that information.

I'm frustrated.  I asked a question, told her to take her time thinking it over, and she responded right away.  He followed up.  Now nothing.  I feel like I want to bang my head against the wall over and over and over.  I've been patient.  I've been understanding.  I've been forgiving.  I've bent over backwards to make things work for them.  But after all that, I still don't get an answer.  I'm still left hanging, wondering what's going on.  And I'm still left in the dark, the position they put me in all those years ago.

This isn't necessarily a reunion issue.  It's a people issue.  If a friend asked me to meet up for lunch, I emailed back saying yes, and they emailed me and asked for a date, then it would only be polite for me to email them back with the answer within a reasonable amount of time.  Internet etiquette states you have three business days.  While I get there's a gray area, it's been over two weeks.  At this point, it's rude.  Adoption/reunion aside, it's common curtsy not to leave someone hanging for two weeks.  If they couldn't figure out a date, one of them should have emailed me and let me know they were having trouble.  Bah.

Though I will say this about this situation: a year ago, I'd be completely obsessing over this.  It would be the main focus of my life.  But right now, I'm not.  I think about it when I check my email and realize there's nothing new at the beginning of the day (when I'd probably get an email from my first father with his new schedule) and I wonder about it when I blog (because that's sort of the status right now), but otherwise I'm able to set it aside for the most part. It's not ruling my life the way that my reunion used to.  I'd call that progress.

Missing Branches

My "Branch"

If you've been following along, you know that I've been doing a lot of research on Ancestry.com these days.  I got an account about a year ago and I've kept up my membership.  I've had a few people ask me why I keep up the membership.  After all, didn't I find my information already?  The membership doesn't keep the tree, it just allows you access to search the records.  If I cancelled my membership, I'd still keep my tree and everything that's in it right now.  The answer to that question is because new stuff comes up all the time.  I'm always amazed when new leaves appear.  I go through my trees (I have four) all the time and look for new information.  Sometimes there is, and sometimes there isn't.  The newest thing for me is that a lot more people are joining the site so there are more trees to compare mine too.  That's how I found my most recent discovery and was able to trace back my paternal grandmother.  It was pretty amazing actually.

One of my paternal aunts made her tree public, as did one of my paternal cousins.  This is what lead to my history lesson that lead me back to 1419 in France.  How cool is that?  Anyway, I was able to figure out who was who on her public tree.  Anyone that's still alive is marked private (but you can tell their gender), but it wasn't too hard to figure it out due to my first father's family situation (which is different compared to the cookie cutter family picture we imagine when we tend to think of "family").  Anyway, I wasn't listed.  My aunt doesn't know I exist, so it was a natural thing.  Yet, it still shook me.  I'm not sure why it did.  But there it was.  Proof that they don't know about me and don't acknowledge the girl they don't know about.  It was an inaccuracy they won't know about for a while longer.  And it was on paper.  I guess before, it was all theoretical.  This time, I have proof.  Hmm.

I'm the missing branch on their family tree.  This naturally got me to thinking more about it.  I did trace things pretty far back.  The further back I went, the more chance that something wasn't quite right with the dates or the names.  Names slowly changed over time.  Letters were dropped and added.  First names were changed to make them less ethnic.  It's not a new practice, but interesting to see in action.  I wondered how many missing branches there could be.  How many adoptees in the family could be floating around out there?

I couldn't help but think that maybe someday, I'll turn into a full blown branch of the family tree.  I could go on to have children and they will have an accurate tree.  That's one of my major reasons for doing all of this.  I want my children to have what I never did.  I plan on having a family tree in any future children's baby books.  Rudy has one in his, and I want that for any future children I may have.  In theory, I would have children who would go on to have children, who would have children etc.  That's just how life continues on.  And should my branch continue to grow, I have to fight to make sure that the information stays accurate.  Public records will show be as the daughter of my mom and the Grinch, not SinginInTheRain and NeverTooLate.

My aunt's didn't contain me.  It really has me thinking a lot about missing branches.  I think about all my fellow adoptees who do not yet have their answers.  I've been very lucky to learn my truth, and my family will know that truth eventually.  Right now I'm waiting for my sisters to grow up a bit, but my tree will go public eventually.  And perhaps my aunt or my cousin will start asking questions when they realize that there's another tree out there, only that one has three girls listed as children of their youngest brother/uncle and sister-in-law.  I have a feeling that's how I will probably come out in my family.  It's my way of not breaking the promise I foolishly made not to contact anyone else in my family.  I wouldn't be contacting them, just leaving myself open to be found.  My sister turns 18 next month... Who knows?

How Blogging Fits Into My Life

Blogging isn't something for the weak of heart.  I'm not talking about people who blog privately for their family and friends.  It's a fantastic way to keep people updated, but it's not quite the same thing as blogging publicly when your readers probably don't know you in real life.  It's not something that you can take on without being willing to put yourself out there.  I have strangers reading about some of the most personal things about me.  And they have the all powerful choice of commenting.  And they can say whatever they want about my very personal thoughts.  I've been very lucky that my readers have been kind to me in the comments thus far.  But that doesn't mean it will always be that way...

I've had a few discussions lately about blogging and how it fits into my life.  For me, this is a blog about my life as an adopted person.  The adopted part is what I write about most frequently, but that doesn't mean that I never blog about other things in my life.  Or the people in it.  That being said, I do my best to keep things private as much as I can. I'm somewhat anonymous here and I don't use real names.  Yes, I use nicknames but unless you know me in real life, you'd have no way of knowing who those people are.  It's just a lot easier to write "Rudy" than "my boyfriend" (and so on and so forth).

As in any adoption blog, I'm going to blog about my family.  My adoption is surrounded by family.  One family gave me away and another family took me in (in one manner of speaking).  So that means that my first parents are going to be a frequent topic, you know, because they are the ones who put me up for adoption.  Just like my adoptive parents are going to be frequent topics of discussion, you know, being the ones who took me in and all.  As for the rest of my family, yes, they are going to come up.  They play a part in my adoption story.  My sister is the one who gave me the information I needed to complete my search.  My aunts have been super supportive when I've needed to talk about my adoption issues.  My first uncle and I share a profession (how random is that?), which is probably going to come up.  Otherwise, what would I write about?

I'm not just about adoption.  I have other things going on with my life.  I have a boyfriend.  I have friends.  I have a job.  All of these things may or may not come up in my blog.  I'm human.  I'm a person.  I have a life.  That's the thing about adoption.  It's always there.  It's always present.  And adoptees have to live with that each and every single day.

Rudy knows that I blog here.  He picked his own nickname.  He sometimes reads here.  I have two friends that I gave this blog address too.  One from my hometown (the only one from my hometown with the URL other than me) and one from college.  That's it.  Three people from my "real" life.  I haven't passed out the URL because I don't like the idea of writing thinking that my entire family is reading over my shoulder.  I don't think I could be as personal.  It's too intense for me to think about that.  And honestly?  I don't think I could handle having such intense conversations about adoption with my adoptive family (or my first family for that matter).  They don't know how painful my adoption has been for me, and it would hurt them to find out.  So I keep my happy adoptee face on when I'm around them, and write about my pain here.

I've been debating going private lately.  I'm still debating, but I'm airing on the side of keeping this public after I read something on Facebook last week about not letting one person ruin your day if there are almost 7 billion other people out there.  I just don't want to deal with drama.  I'll probably keep it public.  We'll see.

Thanks for reading,

Request to Meet

It continues...

As I mentioned yesterday, I'm working on an email to my first mother asking her to meet.  It's been two years (weird) as of yesterday from when I sent my first letter to her.  We started emailing shortly thereafter (well, it took a month) and it lasted through the end of the summer.  In all that time, I never asked her to meet.

While that may sound weird, I did ask for other things.  I was taking baby steps.  First, I asked her to tell my first father about me.  She didn't.  Next, I asked her to speak to me on the phone.  She said she would, but didn't.  Each time she'd apologize and I honestly think she was being sincere.  She's not a bad person, just unsure of what to do next.  She was afraid of how her life could change and could only focus on the bad stuff.  She told me this (I add this so that people don't think that I'm trying to guess what she was thinking - this isn't a blog about my first mother's thoughts and feelings, it's about my thoughts and feelings and my perception of things).  Anyway, I asked to talk on the phone and when she finally told me she couldn't do it, things ended shortly thereafter.  I always assumed that we'd have to talk on the phone first before meeting.  I'm realizing now that doesn't have to happen. Nothing has to happen.  There are no rules.  We make it up as we go along.

I never explained to my first mother why I want to meet her.  I never actually went there.  I was so caught up in the phone call thing and trying to move forward that I never took the time to explain to her why it was so important.  Who knows what she's thinking or feeling about it, but she never heard from me why it's so important that I meet her.  It might not make one bit of a difference.  But maybe, just maybe it will.

I love my first mother very much.  I've been hurt by her actions before, badly.  I've been told things that I never wanted to be told, and I've had to face some harsh truths.  Yet, I still love her.  I still want to meet her.  And I still dream about her.  In the latest dream I met her in a coffee shop.  She was with KungFuPanda and they just happened to wander into the same coffee shop as me.  I don't like coffee.  NeverTooLate told me she doesn't like it either.  So weird.

My point being, I'm working on that email.  I'm going to tell her why it's so important for me to meet her, and why it can't wait.  I have to believe that if nothing else, at least I'll know that I gave it my all.  I tried everything.  I made every attempt, and I told her how I felt.  I can't believe I never told her why it was so important before. I'm going to fix that now.  It might have an impact, but I'm not going to hold my breath.  It doesn't mean that I can't try thought...

Disney Vacation Booked!

My vacation is officially booked.  I can't wait for May to hurry up and get here so I can go to Disney already!  It's going to be a lot of fun.  I can tell already!

Funny vacation planning story.  So I was going to book it a few times, but I wanted Rudy to look everything over.  If I made a mistake somehow, I didn't want to be blamed.  Not that Rudy would blame me for something like that.  But his parents might.  So I wanted to cover my bases.  We have really bad luck with stuff like this.  So I went over everything before I clicked "Make a Reservation" and then again before I clicked "Confirm".  He approved everything and we made a few decisions together.  Booked the trip, end of story right?

Turns out we booked over Mother's Day weekend.  Whoops!  What a disaster...  So first thing the next day Rudy had to call up the nice Disney people and ask them to switch some things around.  What a great way to start a vacation!  Thank goodness he called when he did.  He called before the airport got our reservations from Disney.  They hadn't processed it yet.  So we didn't have to pay a change fee, just a difference in flight prices, which wasn't that much.  So now we're booked for the right week.  I'll miss my parents anniversary, but I don't think they care about that.  Mother's Day was way more important!

So we're going.  And it will be amazing.  And I bought insurance just in case... I feel like such a responsible adult now... That is, a responsible adult going to a children's theme park.  Hehe!

Shifting Thinking

I'm having a hard time dealing with everything.  I know it's going to take me some time, but it's so hard on top of everything else.  I've had to shift my thinking and make some changes in my life and in my plans.

I had a book made of all the emails in the first year between me and my first father.  I thought we'd have a second year to add to it later.  There have been a grand total of four emails from him since them, and they are all very short.  So I guess no more second book.  It was next to my bed before because I was reading it at night.  I had to move it I was so upset, so under my bed it went.  That only lasted a day and I put it up in the attic  buried as deep as I could get it without looking at the cover (which is a picture of the two of us).

I deleted all the text messages out of my phone (but took screen shots of the last few days) and moved all the pictures to a separate part of the phone in storage (that I need to actively look for and put in a password for).  I deleted the picture out of his contact information and wiped the call log of his name.  He was removed from my favorites.  I'd delete him completely but I need to know when not to answer the phone.  I'll probably change his name to "Do Not Answer" instead.

A filter was added to my inbox so any email will bypass it and therefore not end up on my phone.  I'd kept an email in my inbox from last March after we first met, and that was moved out and away so I won't have to look at it anymore unless I go seeking it out.

My plan was to order a book for all the emails with my first mother.  I was going to try to do that sooner rather than later.  I'm still going to do it, but I'll probably let some time go by to give myself some time to heal.  I've decided to get a storage box that I can put everything in and seal it up.  I'll store it all in the attic together, where I don't have to look at the remnants of a failed reunion.  Someday I'll go back through it, maybe when I have my own kids and they start asking questions, but right now I want nothing to do with it.  I won't get rid of it because it's important to me to have some answers for any children I might have, but I can't bear the thought of even having it around me.

Honestly, I don't care anymore if I accidentally out my first family here.  That was my major concern before.  That someone they knew would find out because of me.  But now I'm not interested in keeping their secret.  So I'm here, publicly.  And if anyone finds this, then so be it.

I'm going to make an honest go at the email thing next month.  I said I would, so I will.  But it's never going to be quite the same.  I've lost my faith in my reunion.  I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get it back.  And I'm so hurt over this still, even after an apology.  I'm hoping that with time, I'll start to heal, but for now I can't even look at an email or a book.

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 :-)

Something's Not Right

Add sweatpants and boots
and this is what I'm talking about

I was dealing with some serious family drama this week.  Seriously.  So I'm going to write about it because it will make me feel better.  It always does.

I'm pretty sure that my adoptive father has OCD.  Naturally I'm not a professional so maybe it's something else.  But there's something not right going on.  My dad has always been clean.  But lately it's been kicked up to a whole new level of insanity, ever since my mom got sick.  Before, he'd deal with the mess.  My mom isn't the most organized person and there were times when we'd have stacks of paper in the kitchen, the laundry would be piled up, and don't even get my started on the guest bedroom (the door was always shut that's how bad it was).  However, my mom no longer handles the bills (so no more stacks of paper), the laundry gets put away the same day its done (it's a good system), and my dad has cleaned out the guest bedroom.  She used to do her arts and crafts in there and she can't do those things anymore so there's no chance for her to mess it up again.

My dad has gone through each and every room in the house.  In each room, he's dusted every item.  He's vacuumed twice.  He's scrubbed the floor with a new favorite cleaning product.  He's moved around the furniture and gone so far as to buy new (cleaner) furniture for almost each room.  All the windows have been scrubbed.  He dusted every fan, as well as polished the wood on the beams in the room with the cathedral ceiling.  Spare sheets have been washed.  Everything is neat and organized.  He's got the basement left.  That's it.  The rest of the house (including my bedroom) he's already cleaned.  It's weird.  It's like he HAS to do it.  He's also manicured the lawn outside to the point where if it's not raining, he's usually in the yard.  That outlet is gone now that the winter is here.

I honestly didn't think much of it.  I knew it was an escape for him, and I figured that if it made him happy, then he should just do it.  Beside, what's wrong with a clean house?  It didn't bother me, it certainly didn't bother my mother, and whatever, we move on.  And then this week happened.

I made a mess in the basement.  I own up to that 100%.  I forgot to fold a blanket I was using and I left a jacket down there.  I had moved some furniture so I could do my yoga and hadn't moved it back because I've been doing yoga everyday.  I figured it's the basement and I'm really the only one who's been going down there.  And I left a food wrapper.  Which really wasn't good.  My bad.

Not only was I yelled at for a good ten minutes, but Rudy (who had nothing to do with the mess) was brought into it.  Then he went after my bedroom.  Apparently two sweatpants and a pair of boots constitutes a pig sty and I needed to grow up and keep my room clean.  To which my response was, it's my room and if it bothers you, don't go in there.  Apparently that's the wrong thing to say.  This is why I seriously think he's got some sort of mental disorder.  A normal rational person would not have flipped out on me the way that he did.  He even followed me to my room later in the night to yell at me some more.  He couldn't handle the things on the floor.  My room is super neat and clean right now.  Two sweatpants and a pair of boots (that my sister had borrowed and returned after I left for work and therefore I had no knowledge of) were enough to set him off.

I'm one of the cleanest people I know.  The sweatpants and boots were not hurting anyone.  They did not impose on anyone's safety.  They weren't affecting the rest of the family in anyway.  The reason my door was open was because I don't have heat in my room and it's freezing in there if I keep the door shut.  I wish I was joking.

I was told that my room isn't really mine.  That it's his house and therefore I need to abide by his rules.  And that means nothing on the floor (keep in mind that these items were far from the door and therefore nothing my mother could have tripped on -- that I could have understood). I was told that I don't have the right to any privacy in the house because it's a family house and therefore we share things as a family.

This whole living at home thing at 24 is new to me.  I'd rather be in an apartment on my own.  I've gone to look at apartments.  But I owed upwards of $80,000 in student loans.  I'd like to pay some of them off before I have to pay serious rent.  I've got it down to $70,000 after working my butt off this summer and I hope to have it down to $65,000 by the new year.  I'm determined.  I do know that after five years of having my own space, I need one room in the house to call my own.

I'm asking my dad for an agreement between us (written).  I'll pay him $300 a month (what he keeps telling everyone I should be paying him to live at home) and in return for that he 1) does not enter my room without my permission 2) does not comment on the status of my room unless it affects someone else in the house with the door closed and 3) I get the cable I've been asking for for six months.  I think that's fair.  In case that doesn't work out, I've been looking at apartments but I'll have to pay at least $1000 a month in rent, and while that's not super bad, I don't really have that money right now to furnish an apartment and I'd like to stay at home to help with my mom.

This is my life.  I need a vacation from the hell hole that I'm living in.  Is it December 9th yet?

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?

Drama in Adoptoland

Great post by Von today, as well as several others. In case you missed it, there's been a lot of drama the last few days after an adoptive mother posted a picture of her Asian daughter pulling her eyes back.  Several adoptees, including Von and Mei-Ling, went over to try to respectfully point out how that might be raciest and offensive.  They were told to "take a chill pill" and that the gesture was "cute".  There are some great posts out there who say it better than I would, including:

Once Was Von: Twenty Fun Things To Do With Adoptees: pose your adoptee using a racist gesture which is against her race, make sure you photograph her and post on an open blog and collect commen...

Exile of Xingnan: Being Nice Just Doesn't Work: Suffice to say, I’m exhausted by this. Not just the racist post, but because of the comments going on over at Joy’s blog about the racist post. Someone wrote: If you would just be nice, people would listen to you.

Joy's Division: Adoptive Parents and Moral Imperative: I know you don’t want to hear this, but there is no getting around that I am simply right about this issue in re: the picture of the young girl posted on the internet by her adopter-woman....

iAdoptee: The Ugly American is alive and well: Much chatter has been sparked within the adoptee community this week over a photo that an adoptive mother posted to her blog. The photo features a very young Asian girl using her fingers to pull her eyes back making them appear slanted. The Caucasian adoptive mother captioned the photo with the words "She did this... and then asked 'Mommy, do I look Chinese?'"

Marginal Perspectives: Hubris: I feel as though I cannot escape the hubris of so many pathetic people at the moment. It is horrible and haunting. At the best of times, you...

If I forgot any, please leave them in the comments section!

Preparations Part 2

Hope I'm not left out in the Cold!

See Part 1 Here

Yesterday's post was so long I had to break it up in two.  I'm preparing for my third visit with my first father.  Which happens to fall on my birthday.  This could go amazingly well, or really really wrong.  I'm trying to prepare for all the ways it could go wrong.

Now there are several things that could go wrong.  I'm being open about stuff right?  Well I know for a fact that my adoptive father has withdrawn his support.  He's taking everything out on me these days and I hate that, but there's not a lot I can do about it.  I'm the emotional punching bag, the person who stops him from exploding at my mother, and the peace keeper.  I hate that role but it is what it is.

I'm going to tell my mother about meeting up with SinginInTheRain because I promised her that I would.  I'm just going to wait until my dad isn't around.  Mentally, she's a lot more there now than she was a few weeks ago.  Like it's amazing the progress that she's made.  She's almost back to being her old self.  So while she might not remember, she'll almost defiantly remember if I don't tell her. So I'm going to keep my promise and let her know that I'm meeting up with him.  She might freak out and ask that I not go.  I highly doubt it, but it could happen.  More likely than not she'll just be like "Ok whatever" and that will be the end of it.  She might ask to meet him.  If that's the case, things could get complicated.  But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.  I'm not going to worry about that right now because I actually think her meeting him would be a good thing.  But I doubt it's going to happen.

My grandmother is going to be at my house for the day. You know, THAT grandmother.  Now I've sworn to be honest if I'm asked, but I can't see this ending well for me so I'm going to the "spa" as far as she's concerned.  Which is true because that's what I've decided to do after my visit.  I'm going to need to relax.  But there's a chance she might not come to hang out with my mom.  And because I have the day off, that would be bad because it's a lot harder to find a replacement for her if everyone knows I'm off.  Which they all do.  So if she doesn't show because her leg has been bothering her and she doesn't like driving, I might be stuck.  It's happened before.  The back up plan is to play the birthday card.  Hard.

"It's my birthday and I made plans to go to the spa!  I really was looking forward to this, can you PLEASE help me out and come watch Mom for a few hours?  I just really need a day for myself and it's my birthday and I need to relax."  

It might work.  I hope.  Wow, rereading that I realize I need to clarify.  I love spending time with my adoptive mom.  But it's stressful and challenging.  I don't want to spend my birthday feeling stressed and challenged.  I'd rather be at work than watching my mom by myself all day (she sleeps a lot too so I'd have to keep busy doing other things by myself at my house... not so much fun).  I'm not a heartless witch.  I was told that I'm not allowed to hang out with my mom that day by my aunt who has become like a second mom to me through all of this.  Because she wants me to be relaxed and enjoy my birthday.  It's the one day of the year I get to make it all about me.  So I will.

I could naturally run into problems with my adoptive father.  Who knows where his mind is at these days?  He will probably be coming home to see my mom around the time that I'm leaving.  Because it's my birthday, there's a chance he might want to hang out with me or take me to lunch.  I highly doubt it, but it could happen.  Or he could run to the mall to get something for my birthday and I could run into him there.  It could happen.  How awkward would that be?

"Oh hi Dad.  What are you doing here?  Oh, shopping for my birthday?  Um, cool.  So this is SinginInTheRain, you know, the person I'm not supposed to talk about or mention in any way because you feel threatened?  Well, this is him!  We're having lunch, on my birthday...  So yeah.  Well, we're gonna go.  Me and my birth father [first father].  Love you!  See you at home for dinner!"

Yikes!  That would be bad.  But it's a possibility.  To avoid super awkward situations like this one, I'm going to let him know beforehand I think.  I'm waiting until he's calm.  After I talk to my mom.  So I'll know how she feels first, and then I'm just going to mention it to him.  But he's going to have to be alone.  And I have to have a game plan.  And I need to be prepared to run out of there quick.  And I need to be ready to laugh it off.  I need to be mentally prepared.  And I have to figure that all out QUICK because I'm seeing SinginInTheRain in a matter of DAYS. (Eee!)

Most likely out of all these scenarios is that I'm going to run into someone I know.  This is not just likely, I'd be floored if it didn't happen.  So I'm going to have to introduce SinginInTheRain to someone I know.  Which is going to be interesting because I've never done that before.  And it's going to get back to my parents.  That's just how my hometown is.  You know how there are all these little towns across America where everyone knows each other's business?  I think that we place these towns geographically in our minds in the southern part of the country, or the western part of the country, or at least I do anyway.  Turns out we have them in the East as well!  So that ought to be interesting.  I'm still working on wrapping my head around this one.

Why post about this?  Because I'm preparing for the worst.  I'm preparing for hell.  That way, if something does go wrong, I'll either have a backup plan already in place or at the very least, be mentally prepared for it.  So that's why I'm blogging about this.  Getting ready for failure.  Because then if things go wonderful, it's even better.

Fingers crossed!

Learning to Fall

It's hard to stare off the cliff...

I'm taking a break from Quotable Wednesdays because my stats on those posts are awful. Like nobody reads them. So rather than writing them every week, I'm going to just write them every once and a while on Wednesdays. Like maybe I'll just do them the first week of the month or something. We'll see.

This isn't the first time nor the last time that I've tried something that didn't work. I'm not perfect. I make lots of mistakes. I frequently fail at things. But I'm ok with that. If every time I tried something new it worked without a hitch, I'd never learn anything. Sometimes you have to fall in order to appreciate what you have and to learn to pick yourself back up.

When I was two, I started my first dance class. Yes, I've been dancing since I could walk. Anyway, one of the first things we learned to do was fall. From age two and up, I've had to know how to fall property, so that I wouldn't seriously hurt myself. It's a simple lesson (protect your head) but a hard one to come to terms with when you are instructed to nearly throw yourself on the ground. It's a lesson that I didn't think much about until I started some more advanced classes and I fell a lot more. It became a common sight to see me on the floor. I'm sort of a klutz (which you wouldn't expect from someone who's been in ballet classes practically all their life). However, after picking myself up, I'd do whatever move or sequence I was trying to master flawlessly. I'd learned my lesson and I was ready to go at it again.

My reunion with my first mother didn't go the way I wanted it to. It happens. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't mine, it was just a bad situation. Sometimes there is nothing you can do about it. We have to accept that, and pick ourselves back up. Knowing what I knew about my first attempt at reunion, I started a relationship with my first father. I was able to take what I learned and apply it the second time around. This time, things are a lot better (not perfect, but what relationship is?). I wouldn't say that it is just because I act differently, but my first father is a different person with different emotions. He didn't carry me for nine months in secret. His family viewed children born out of wedlock differently. He's more accepting because he was accepted, unlike my first mother who grew up a lot differently than he did and who had other issues to deal with.

I don’t like thinking about what would have happened if I didn't pick myself back up. I didn't need to reach out to my first father. I didn't have to trust him and give him time when he said he needed it. I didn't need to open myself up. I didn't have to forge a relationship with him that hopefully will last. We've been taking the time to build the foundation. I know we have a rocky path ahead. Right now it's just the two of us, but someday my sisters will be added into the mix. I'm hoping my first mother changes her mind about me. My extended family will learn about me someday. Those may or may not be good things for him. Only time will tell. But we have a solid foundation, or at least we are getting there.

But the thing is, the last paragraph wouldn't be there if I hadn't decided to try again. I put myself out there, got hurt, learned from it, and tried again for a much better result. It's always going to be a work in progress. And I'm always going to have hard times. It's a roller coaster after all. But hopefully I will always bounce back, to greater and higher peaks. So don't be afraid to try something new, to put yourself out there, or to build something that might fall down. You never know what could happen.

Really Mom?

As per yesterday's post, today's post is all about how my adoptive mother dressed me as a child.  I look back at old pictures, and think "Really Mom?" all the time!

First Day of  Kindergarten

Lets take a look at this picture.  It's my first day of kindergarten.  The first day of my education.  It's a pretty big day.  I mean, it's the first time I'm going to see a lot of the kids that I'm going to graduate high school with.  I think I did graduate with about 80% of my kindergarten class.  So it's important that I start off the school year right.  White socks with black shoes?  Really Mom?  I was five.  I didn't know how to dress myself back then. Have a heart and at least match the socks with the shoes.  And they were ankle socks.  With BOWS on them.  YUCK!  Added to the fact that I mixed pink in my backpack with a bright red umbrella.  At least the umbrella goes with the dress.  But that backpack needs to go....

Birthday Party

And here we are at someone's birthday party.  I'm a sailor.  Ok.  It happens.  But what really stands out to me in this picture is not the two cute little kids.  It's the BEER that clearly takes center stage here.  Apparently that's what Miller Lite looked like back in 1988.  But really?  It's a picture of two little kids (me and my cousin).  At least move the beer can out of the way.  Really Mom?

Look at that smile!

And finally, we have this one.  I was a cute kid.  And at least my mom got the outfit right this time.  The pink was cute.  Very classy.  And the shoes, well, at least I don't have socks on this time.  Clearly I'm very excited about whatever.  Or maybe the GIANT BOW on my head it pulling up the corners of my mouth.  It's like a mini-face lift!  Oh for the love of BOWS!  AND OMG I JUST NOTICED THE BACKGROUND PICTURE!  That picture must have disappeared.  They dressed me up in a red Santa suit like get-up for fun???  Really Mom???  REALLY?!?!

There.  Now you all know why I was traumatized as a child.  The end.

Side note: Just to be clear I was really bored and this is my sad attempt at humor :-)

Backlash on Day 2

So I decided to be more open about my reunion in my everyday life.  If you didn't read the post and don't feel like it, I've decided I need less stress in my life and my family is either behind me or not.  And it's not my issue if they aren't.  I can't keep hiding it.  I talk to my first father a lot.  We talk on the phone at least once a week, but lately it's been two shorter conversations twice a week.  So things come up.  I tell him about my life, he tells me about his, and it's usually pretty relevant as to what's going on.  So sometimes things come up.  I don't instigate problems, but if it fits with the conversation I'm not going to hide who I'm talking to.

It blew up in my face last night.  I'm still proud of me though for sticking to my guns.  Here's what happened:

My sister has bedbugs in her apartment.  She didn't have to get an apartment for the school year as her school is close enough to commute, but she didn't want to live at home.  So my parents paid for her to get an apartment, even though things are a little tight now that my mom is out on disability (and not getting a full paycheck) and my dad isn't working overtime.  So now she has to deal with all of that stuff.

While talking to SinginInTheRain yesterday, I told him about the bedbug situation.  My sister was coming home for the night, and was bringing some stuff to wash.  I was a little bit worried about it because I heard that it doesn't take much for them to spread from one house to another.  Anyway, turns out SinginInTheRain's father (my grandfather) had bedbugs in his apartment.  His niece (my cousin) brought them into the first floor of the two family house and it spread throughout the whole house.  He told me what a nightmare it was to get the problem fixed.  They had to hire an exterminator, get new furniture (couch, mattresses, etc), and it was overall a huge hassle.

My sister came home and didn't really get why my dad and I were freaking out about her stuff.  He made her take everything out of her purse in the garage and put her purse, sweatshirt, and shoes in a plastic bag which was emptied into the dryer ASAP.  She went straight into the shower and put the rest of her clothes in the dryer and put it on the highest heat setting it would go.  Hopefully that killed them.  My dad and I were left in the kitchen and he asked me if I thought he should put his clothes in the dryer as well because he had been to her apartment to pick her up.  I didn't think it was a bad idea.

It was like a volcano erupted in our kitchen

So now we're talking about bedbugs.  It's a natural conversation.  And we don't know anyone else who has had to deal with this problem.  So I causally mentioned that I had talked to SinginInTheRain.  "Who?" he asked.  "My biological father" I answered.  My dad and I don't usually talk about him, but we have in the past and my dad knows I'm in touch with SinginInTheRain.  I finish my story about how expensive the exterminator was, how they had to get new furniture, and how we should be extra careful.  Then I got the lecture.

"Don't talk about those people around your mother."

"What?" (thinking I didn't hear him right)

"You heard me.  I said don't talk about those people around your mother.  You'll just upset her and she needs to be able to focus on getting better right now.  She doesn't need added stress.  So enough already."

"Dad, for starters, Mom probably wouldn't know what was going on..."

"Yes, yes she would!  You don't know what she understands and doesn't!" (She called me her sister two days ago and doesn't know my name.  She doesn't remember what she ate for breakfast an hour ago.  Yeah, ok Dad)

"Ok, fine, say she did know what was going on.  Mom and I talk about this stuff all the time.  It's not new, and it's not news to her."

"Did you not hear me?  Enough already!"

At this point the volume was pretty loud so I walked away.  I could have stayed but it wasn't worth it.  I wasn't expecting that so I didn't have my arguments ready.  I was fuming.  Absolutely fuming.  And I don't do well when I'm fuming.

My mom was upset when I told her about meeting SinginInTheRain.  She wasn't mad that I met him.  She was really happy for me.  She was upset that I didn't tell her about it.  She was mad that I kept it from her because I tell her everything, everything that is except this.  She didn't quite get that it wasn't about her, it was about me, but that's another post for another day.  After that, I started to talk to her about it more.  I would tell her funny stories SinginInTheRain had told me, let her know when I met him again (she didn't remember me telling her about it beforehand), and tried to keep her in the loop.  She never asked me to stop.  She never told me she didn't want to hear it.  In fact, she loved that I would talk to her about those things.  It took her mind off of her own problems.

So I'm not very happy that my father is trying to "gag order" me.  I woke up this morning though and realized something.  He can't.  He can put his fingers in his ears and go "La la la!" all he wants for all I care.  I know how my mom feels about this.  He doesn't because he hasn't talked to her about it.  And I'm not going to edit myself.  I'm sticking to my plan.  I'm being more open.  I'm making it not a big deal.  And he wants to be stupid about it, he's only hurting himself.  I live with my parents, but I'd gladly be kicked out.  I'd love to live on my own, but I feel like I can't now because of my mom.  I get kicked out because I won't stop talking about my first family, well, that would be just perfect for me.  I could leave string free and guilt free.

Now I have the added benefit of knowing it's just going to piss him off.  Lately I'm all for pissing him off.  He's been super controlling lately and trying to cut me out of my mom's care.  I stepped up to take care of her this summer.  Apparently he doesn't think he needs me anymore.  I'd love to go back to being a normal 23 year old.  I'd love that.  My mom doesn't remember me anyway.  I'd love to get out of the house and not deal with that on a day to day basis.  And he would be giving me a great out.  He'd be screwing himself over because a) he only has one set of hands and sometimes you need two with my mom b) he'd lose his only help with the housework c) everyone would start calling him instead of me for updates d) I organize everything... he'd be on his own with that and e) I keep track of my mom's medication (she takes seven different medication at different times on different days).  Good luck with that Dad!

I Love My Computer

I turned on my laptop yesterday to be greeted with this:



I was able to get a successful restart, but it's not looking good.  I guess it's time to back everything up, and look to getting a new computer.  Oh well...

At least I still have a working work computer, and a tablet PC so I won't actually miss any blogging days never fear!