One Week!

This is the last week of my life as it is.  This time next week I'll be sitting at a coffee shop (probably Starbucks or something) at some yet unknown town across from my first parents.  Both of them.  Gulp.

I have some unwelcome distractions in my life right now.  Perhaps the silver lining is that it's keeping me from seriously freaking out about next week.  I feel like I've been waiting for this moment for forever.  Having to wait a month to meet her after she agreed didn't exactly help the situation.  It's frustrating at times because she's only an hour away.  Just one hour.  I could drive there tomorrow and see her.  Heck I could go right now.  I would never do that, but still.  It adds another layer.

I'm working on being a more patient person.  I am.  I haven't emailed my first father and demanded that he email me back and figure all this stuff out right now.  I didn't push to get the date moved up even though I wanted to.  I'm stressing quietly on my own.

It may not even happen.  She could still back out.  It's happened before.  I'm going to email her a pre-visit email this week.  I'm going to ask her if there's anything she would like me to bring with me.  I'm going to keep it super friendly and upbeat.  And I'm going to thank her again for agreeing to meet with me.  If that scares her off, then she wouldn't have showed up anyway.  My worst fear is that I'm going to get there and he'll be the only person there.  I know my first father wouldn't stand me up for anything.  He knows that if neither one of them showed up, I'd go find them and we all know they don't want that.  But I'm prepared to show up and hear him tell me excuses.  It could happen.  I'm only writing about it because I want to get it out there.  I want to purge my worries and set them aside.  And so that when I read back someday, I'll remember where my head was at.  You'd be amazed at how much I got wrong the last time.  I know I am anyway when I look back at the posts right before I met my first father (though to be fair, I had just started blogging and I've learned a lot since then).

What's more likely to happen is that I'll get there and she'll be there.  We'll smile, hug each other, and have a nice conversation.  I don't know what we'll talk about.  It doesn't even matter.  I'll hear more about how they don't want to tell my siblings.  I'll smile and nod, and Rudy will take over the conversation for a while while I regain my footing.  Then we'll hug each other goodbye and I won't want to leave.  Rudy and I will drive away with me not saying anything.  I'll either cry or not be able to stop smiling.  I'll get an email from my first father shortly thereafter and probably nothing from her.  And then I'll start to readjust.

Maybe there's a chance that things will change in the future.  Perhaps.  Life is a river, and I can't see up around this next bend.  We'll have to wait and see.  I have the highest hopes.

As for now, I'm going to enjoy this week.  Right now my first mother isn't a real person.  I can hold on to what's left of the fantasy (most of it's been destroyed already but some parts remain).  I'm going to say goodbye to who I am today and prepare to meet the new me in a week.  I know it's coming and I'll be prepared for that.  Thanks for reading!

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! :-)

One Year Reunion Anniversary!

One year ago today I met my first father for the first time.  He was the first relative that I ever met who was biologically related to me.  It was the first time I'd ever seen someone I looked like.  I saw my features in his face and noticed my own mannerisms reflected back at me.  I saw bits and pieces of my personality in his stories.  I finally knew what people had been talking about all those years about the apple not falling far from the tree when describing family relationships.  Nobody had ever said that about me.  Clearly I was his daughter through and through.

I'll never forget that feeling.  I will never forget how overwhelming yet wonderful everything was.  I'll never forget the time that we spent together, getting to know one another, and the time that we spent laughing together.  Once I got over the initial shock (and it was a soul shaking shock), I had the best time of my life.

In the days, weeks, and then months that followed, I let the visit sink in and started to recover.  That's really the only way I can describe it.  It felt like a dream at the time, and I had to unravel everything that had happened.  I wasn't the same person I used to be anymore, and I had to get to know the new me.  I had made some huge realizations that shook me to my core.  After all of those years not knowing where my personality and quirks came from, I finally had a much better idea and it rocked me.  I was no longer ashamed of what I had considered flaws.  It took seeing those same things in another person and realizing they weren't flaws, more like quirks, to realize that maybe it was OK to like myself.  Maybe I could cut myself some slack.  For the first time ever, I started to like myself for me.  I saw who I was in the mirror, not the slightly out of reach version of myself that I thought I had to be.  I was just me.  Flaws and all.  Quirks and all.  And it felt so good.

As more time went by, things settled down.  I learned to live with this new idea of who I am and this new sense of identity.  It became a part of who I am, something that I learned over time to accept.  I'm not there 100%, but I'm getting there.  It's a journey.

We've met twice since after that first meeting a year ago today.  I even saw my first father on my birthday, a wonderful gift!  He's seen my hometown and we've laughed in the mall (which looking back was a really bad place to meet up seeing as neither one of us really likes shopping).  I will always have those memories, no matter how things are going forward.  Things may not have turned out the way I wanted them too, but that's just life for you.

As I prepare to meet my first mother, I can't help but think of all the unexpected ways my life changed after meeting my first father.  I'm more excited I think than nervous.  If this past year has been any indication, I know that the journey will be one worth taking, obstacles and all.

What a year!

Ancestry.com Continues to Blow My Mind

My Family Tree!

I started a private family tree on Ancestry.com a while back.  My paternal grandfather was listed on a detailed public family tree.  Because he died a few years back, his information is available to anyone.  I was able to trace him back pretty far, but could not find anything on my grandmother because she's still living and never married my paternal grandfather.  My other grandparents are dead ends as well because they are too young to be listed on census data (so far) and I don't have a lot of information about them.

I could ask about them, but I'm not sure what sort of answers I'd get and if they'd be accurate or not.  In the past, I haven't been given the full story and my first parents have been a bit evasive.  They give me the general idea, but never the full story.  It could be because they don't know it, or maybe it's because they don't know that I want all the juicy details like names, but either way, I'm not willing to risk ticking them off by asking too many nit-picky questions right now.

A few weeks ago I started to seriously track down my paternal grandmother and kept hitting brick walls.  I had a last name in theory from my first mother but couldn't find anything.  I asked for help and a few people gave it an honest go but nobody was able to make any headway.  So I walked away for a bit.  After a friend mentioned the site last week, I logged back on for the heck of it the other day.  And I had a little green leaf on one of my sisters.  That shouldn't happen because my sister is still very much alive and under the age of 18 so not on many public documents.  Weird.  Because I'm me, I followed the leaf to another public profile.  It would seem that one of my aunts decided to make her profile public.  My sisters are private, but because I used their names in mine, it still matched to the tree.  Naturally, I'm not on it.  But guess who is?  They may all be marked as "Private" but it was pretty easy to figure out who my grandmother was (the only person connected to two men and having children with both of them).  I've done enough research to know that the tree matched up perfectly with my own.  I even found a few photos!

For the first time, I have information on my paternal grandmother.  She's always been the biggest mystery.  My other grandparents are all Portuguese (in theory).  However, I was told my maternal grandmother was Portuguese, French, and English.  I thought, cool.  Growing up in an Irish family, it was sort of cool to hear that I was "English".  I quote that because if I'm English, it's not really though her.  My maternal grandmother was French, but by way of Canada.  I've traced my linage back to France.  Did I mention the year was 1469?  I haven't found the English line yet, but there's a lot of people to go through and I do have one other great-grandmother that's "Portuguese" I suspect may be English on my maternal side.  Oh, and did I mention that some my ancestors were in Massachusetts pre-Revolutionary War?  And then they moved to Canada.  And somehow I ended up in Massachusetts.  This is mind blowing for the girl who used to listen to classmates tell stories about how their ancestors were on the Mayflower.  While this isn't quite the same thing, I remember thinking "How cool would it be to trace my ancestors back that far?  Oh well, I guess it's just not meant to be..."  I now know further back in my first family tree than my adoptive parents know of their trees.  Wow.  For once I have more information that they do... Who would have thunk it?

You'd think I'd feel connected to these people, but I don't.  Not yet anyway.  It's so new to me, that I'm connected to these people with names and in some cases, faces.  They were here.  They lived.  They survived.  And I come from them.  And what's interesting to me is that they were dead before I came along.  They never would have known about me anyway even if I hadn't been adopted.  I'm working on feeling connected to them.  It's going to take me a while.  I need to let it all sink in.  I'm just glad that I'm learning more and more about my truth and my history every day, with or without my first father's help.  I'm so excited that if I have children, they'll have this information too.  And honestly?  If I had grown up with my first parents, I probably wouldn't have known this either.  Because I doubt my first father knows his family history the way that I do now.  I doubt he's traced it back to France or Pre-US Massachusetts.  Another reason why I love technology...

My mind = blown.  Thanks Ancestry.com!

I'm "That" Adoptee - The "Hairdresser" Conversation

My Attempt at a Hairdresser Picture

Once you've been around adoption blog land for a bit, or you participate in adoption forums, or you have any conversations with anyone about adoption, you usually hear a pretty similar story.  It comes from all over.  Sometimes it comes from a person without a major adoption connection.  Other times it comes from an adoptive parent or a first parent.  It's what I like to call the "hairdresser" conversation.  You know, the one where the other person says "Well my hairdresser's cousin's friend adopted a little girl and she's happy as can be!  There's nothing wrong with adoption; you must have just had a bad experience."  Yes, people actually say things like that to adoptees.  Because one adoptee is happy, then that means that adoption is always a good thing and all adoptees should feel that way.  Or that the ones who aren't happy just came from bad situations.

But the thing is, not all adoptees like to talk about that painful part of their lives.  I don't.  I don't like to bring it up around my adoptive family if I can help it.  I have several reasons.  For starters, members of my adoptive family with the exception of my sister and I are biologically related to each other.  They know what it's like to be raised by people who they look like, act like, and share history through blood.  My mother's heritage is their heritage too.  Same with my dad's side.  They know they look like Aunt Jane on this side or that their nose comes from Uncle Fred.  To them, that's what family is.  I may not look like them, but I was raised that way.  So to them, they know how I was raised and what kind of family I have because it's their family too.  But they don't get that huge difference between us.  They don't get that I'm not Irish and Italian.  They don't get how I felt excluded when they'd talk about how they all look the same or laugh the same (they all have the exact same laugh).  I'm so happy they don't feel that way.  I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, let alone people I love.  So they can be supportive (and they are so supportive), but they are never going to understand.  They don't get what I went through growing up in that family.  And the biggest part is that I don't want to hurt them.  I don't want them to think that they aren't good enough for me.  I don't want them to think that they did anything wrong because they haven't.  They didn't pick this for me either (as in my extended adoptive family) but they have done everything they could to welcome me as if "born to".  They have loved me from the beginning and been there for me.  They are a great family, and they're my family.  But I have another family too, and I wanted to find out about them.  I don't want my family to have to deal with the issues and pain that I do have from this whole situation.  So I don't bring it up.

If you were to ask a family member of mine, chances are they would tell you that I'm happy with being adopted.  I have a large family and not everyone knows that I've searched and found.  So there are relatives of mine that would say that I never felt inclined to search.  They'd be wrong.  They could say the same about my adoptive sister, but they might be wrong again there too.  My parent's friends don't all know.  My parents did not broadcast it, and really, my search and reunion doesn't come up very often with them.  So if one of them told their hairdresser about me, they'd say something like "Oh, my friends adopted a little girl and she's very happy to be adopted.  She's never searched and she's an engineer now and doing very well!"  Sigh.  They don't know my inner brain, and they don't know what's going on in my personal life.  And that's OK.  But I'd be upset if I found out that I was being used in a conversation like that and completely misrepresented.

There are adoptees out there who are happy about their adoptions.  I've met a few.  And I firmly believe that it's up to them to feel however they feel about it.  But that being said, its not everyone.  And honestly?  I'd rather those people speak for themselves in a safe environment.  Being adopted is deeply personal.  It's like talking about your sex life with a random person in a very public place.  Most people don't do it.  They talk about stuff like that with people who they are very close with and in a private place.  And then there are those who blog about it.  I blog publicly but I keep things private as much as I can.

So yes, the girl who blogs about her issues and challenges and pain publicly is the same adoptee that these hairdressers are probably talking about.  You never know someone's story until you talk to that person.

Wearing Big Girl Panties

I don't always feel like a grown up.  There are several reasons for this.  It's a problem.

For starters, I live at home.  With my parents.  Who don't view me as an adult.  So it's pretty hard to feel like a grown up when your parents are telling you what to do from the moment you walk through the door after work (a big girl job too!) until you go to bed (and they tell you when that is).  Sigh.  It's not their fault.  It's a common thing that parents don't see their adult children as adults.  Especially when they are still living at home.  So I'll always be their little girl.  It just gets annoying.  That's not going to change until I move out.  Which can't happen for a least a few more months.  Oh well.  I'll get there!

Next, this whole reunion thing sent be backwards a bit.  Something about connecting with a parent.  It's hard to do so as an adult.  So it's easier to think about when I was a kid and try to relate to my first parents from that point of view.  I'm not saying I acted like a kid around them.  Not at all.  But it made me take a step back into childhood and revisit a lot of those memories.  It's hard to move forward when you're looking back.  But at the same time, I had to look back.  I just got a bit stuck there.  I'll get over it.

The majority of my friends are my own age or younger.  We're all in various stages in terms of where we're living, our states of employment, and where we are with school.  The best way for everyone to connect is to act like we're still in college at times.  Because that's the thing that we all have in common.  But it doesn't make one feel horribly grown up.  I'm having a lot of fun with them.  And I'm not going to give that up.  But still, doesn't make one feel like a mature college graduate.  And let's not forget that Rudy lives at home as well.  So even when I visit him, it's not the same as if one of us had our own apartment.

It's not a huge problem, but at this point in my life, I do feel ready for more.  I do have a big girl job.  I'm making plans to have my own big girl place.  My boyfriend and I are talking about our future together, something that might actually materialize in the next year or two.  And I'm starting to think about what it is that I want out of life.  It's time to make some big girl decisions.  I can't imagine that I graduated high school six years ago (nearly).  It's unbelievable to me.  Time flew by so fast.  So I don't want to spend the next six years or so in a state of fogginess.

The purpose of my search and reunion was so that I could feel more complete.  So that I could get my answers and live a better life.  To figure out my past so I could enjoy the present and the future.  And I learned some hard lessons.  But I'm putting my big girl panties on.  I've decided that if I want to be more grown up, I have to act that way.  And that means standing up for myself.  That means treating me the way I deserve, rather than pushing me aside and letting other people do whatever they want and walk all over me.  I'm not the same girl I was two years ago.  I'm no where close to being the same girl I was six years ago.  I realized that six years ago I let other people walk all over me and didn't do anything about it because I was scared.  Now I'm letting two people walk all over me and I'm justifying it because I think it's the "right" thing to do.  So I'm not going to justify it anymore.  I won't tolerate it.  Nobody else is going to stand up for me.  So I'm going to have to do it myself.

Decision Made About Sisters

I know, I know...

I've been thinking a lot about my sisters.  And how far I'm willing to go when it comes to them.  I've gotten a lot of advice.  There is a camp out there who thinks I should wait until they are older and then get in touch with them.  This group says that the girls are young right now (14 and 17) and that I should give them some time to grow up a bit before I come charging into their lives.  And there is another camp (slightly larger) that says I should do it now, because they are old enough, and they deserve to know about me.  So I've been listening to each side, thinking about the options, and trying to figure out what to do.

And in this process, I started to think about what it would eventually look like after they know about me.  And if they wanted anything to do with me.  And no matter how hard I try, I don't see it ending all that well.  Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe it could be wonderful.  But we have some major obstacles in our way.

For starters, even if they were able to get past the fact they have a sister they never knew about, I could see it being a major challenge to build a relationship with me while still living at home.  I don't have contact with our mother.  She doesn't want to meet me, she doesn't even want to talk about me with my first father, so I don't see that changing any time soon.  If my sisters wanted to discuss me with her, she wouldn't want to.  It would hurt her.  And I don't like the idea of my sisters being put in the middle.

Next up, we were raised very differently.  And I think it would be very hard for them to understand that I wasn't giving a better life, just a different one.  I know that from the outside my life at times looks perfect.  My adoptive family works very hard on appearances.  And I also know that I grew up "lucky".  I didn't have a horrible childhood.  But at the same time, who knows what my life could have been with my biological family?  And honestly, I wish I had known them growing up.  I struggle with identity, self-esteem, and relationships because of my adoption.  To a sister who only sees the world in black and white, I can see this being a problem.  I can see jealously in our future, on my part and on theirs.  It's not something that we couldn't overcome, but it would be a major challenge.

Then we have the extended family problem.  My first father does not think it would be a good idea for me to meet his family.  Now, if you know me at all, you know that doesn't mean anything to me.  If I want to get to know them, I'm going to.  So that's not the issue.  I'm an adult.  I can make my own decisions Thank You Very Much.  The issue is more that when my first father's family (and mine) finds out about me, there's going to be a lot of drama.  And my sisters are going to have to deal with all of it.  Which could cause further problems.  And on my first mother's side, we have the grandparent issue.  Because my grandparents were in a position to support her in keeping me and they didn't.  They encouraged the adoption.  But to my sisters, they were the best grandparents in the world.  So I can see that being a major problem as well when dealing with people who are very focused on seeing the world in black and white.  And I can see my sisters being defensive.  Heck, I would be too if I were in that position.

Then again, all of these assumptions could be wrong.  I could meet them, things could work themselves out, and in the end I could have a wonderful relationship with two more sisters.  We don't share a history but if we could get over that, maybe we could share a future.  However, nothing in either of my reunions went the way I had hoped for it to go.  And I honestly can't see it happening, not without my first parents cooperation.  Which I'm realizing the more time goes on, I'm not going to get.

I'm slowly getting used to the idea.  I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders.  I'm letting it go.  It's taken a lot for me to get to this place.  But I'm working hard to grieve the loss of the fantasy and deal with my reality.  Someday they will find out about me.  And maybe we'll talk a few times, even meet a time or two.  But that's probably all that will happen.  And even that might not materialize.  So I'm moving on.  I'm accepting that this is the hand that was dealt to me.

I'm not going to "out" myself to my sisters.  I don't see the point.  I'm not really going to gain anything other than heartbreak.  And I'm not ready for more heartbreak right now.  It's going to take years before I'm in a place for that.  So thank you to everyone who has supported me in this.  It really means a lot to me.

I don't see myself as giving up, just realizing the reality of the situation and getting to a place where I'm ok with that.  It's working well for now.

Different Sides of Me

It's me!

There are so many different sides of me as a person.  It really all depends on my mood.

Some days I'm a happy person.  I can't stop smiling and I love to laugh.  I crack jokes that really aren't that funny, but the right people laugh anyway because I tried.  Simple things amuse me and I feel high on life.  These days often involve music, lots of music.  And dancing.  And photos.  And people.

Some days, I'm a thoughtful person.  These are days when I tend to be productive blogging.  I like to think things through.  I like to plan.  I'm careful, methodical, and I pay attention to detail.  If I have a problem, I'll plan out several scenarios.  I want to know my options.  I come up with creative solutions.  I discuss with others who know more than I do.  I research.  My computer is my friend.  I'm quiet, lost in thought.

Other days I'm sad.  I'm grieving the loss of the mother I knew.  I'm learning to live with my family again.  I'm missing my partner and the ease we had in college seeing each other every day.  I check my phone for messages every half hour.  I look for distractions.  I watch a lot of TV, read books, and sometimes I even try working out.

Then there are the days when I'm hyper.  I exercise and feel good afterward.  I organize.  Closets get cleaned out, laundry gets done, and to-do lists are made.  I shop for things I need, spend money I shouldn't, and often walk away with something I really should return.  I bounce off walls, I talk on the phone, and I do way too much at once.  Sometimes I'm productive, sometimes I'm not.  I lose my focus, but can often gain it back.  I eat sugar on those days.  It's probably not a good idea.

Let's not forget when I'm in my control mode.  I am a go-getter.  I make things happen.  I take a crappy situation, find a solution, and go for it.  I thrive off actions.  I'm productive.  I explain to people what they need to do to get things done.  I take complete charge.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I'm just me.  I'm the girl who takes care of everyone else but just wants someone to take care of me.  I'm the girl who spends a vacation planning another vacation, only the next one is with a special someone.  I'm the girl who loves Dunkin Donut's Raspberry Iced Tea.  I'm the girl who lives to dance and laugh, letting the music take over.  I love my family, enjoy my friends, and adore my dog.

I am all of these things, all of these sides of my personality.  My personality at times can be like New England weather.  If you don't like it, wait until tomorrow; it will change.

Found: First Thoughts

I recently finished reading Jennifer Lauck's Found for the book tour.  I'm going to save a lot about this for the book tour post, which will be coming in January.  But there are a few things that I wanted to say first.

For starters, I couldn't make it through the first chapter without crying.  Yes, I went there.  I had to put the book down and I'll admit to not picking it up again for several weeks.  It was amazing to read, but so hard to get through because I haven't met my first mother and understood exactly what Ms. Lauck was talking about in terms of a lack of connection.

Then all the drama happened with my first father.  And as far as I was concerned, my reunion was over.  I was devastated.  I considered dropping out of the book tour.  It was too hard.  It was too much.  But something made me stop from sending that email and waiting a few days.  I had training at work the next week and due to the location of the training, I was on my own for lunch.  So I threw Found in my bag and figured if I had time, I'd do some reading and give it a try.  If it didn't work out, it didn't work out.

I spent the next few days with my nose buried in those pages during my lunch breaks and after work.  I read the book in three days in my spare time.  I had to put it down a few times and walk away, but I couldn't stay away.  There were several parts where I swear it was like Ms. Lauck was in my head and had read my innermost thoughts.  I understood so much of this book because I felt some of those same emotions.

I had it easy compared to Ms. Lauck, but the basic feelings of abandonment, the need to know the past, and the feeling of constantly searching for something more are things that I fight with everyday.  I belong to a forum of mostly adult adoptees (though we do have several other members of the so called triad on there, as well as a few others).  I love that forum for the same reason that I loved this book.  The act of hearing other stories and thoughts of others who are adopted makes me feel less alone.  We're all in this together in a way.  We support each other, get each other through.  By reading books like Found and others, we realize that we aren't alone.  We aren't fighting this battle alone.  There are others fighting it with us.

No two adoptees feel the same way about adoption.  And we all have different stories.  We have different experiences.  But sometimes, we find someone who we can relate to.  I can't wait for January now!

My Pine Cone

I'm very proud of my pine cone
picture

I've been trying to figure out why I value pictures so much.  I can't figure out if it's an adoptee thing, or a "Jenn" thing.  It's driving me crazy, especially seeing as I've gotten into photography lately.  Not seriously, but I'm starting a new hobby.  It's fun and I'm working at it.  I read somewhere the best way to get better is to take pictures everyday.  I've been giving it an honest go.  Blogging started as a hobby, something I was skeptical about, but now a year later I still post once a day.  I have my lapses (cough July) but it's been working out so far really well.  So if blogging worked out, maybe photography will too.  I've only had my camera for two weeks and already I feel lost if I'm not holding it in my hands.  I see things differently these days; it's like I'm always looking for a good shot and I see them everywhere, even if I don't have my camera in my hands.  It's been driving me crazy trying to figure out why that is (I'm a need to know kind of person).

Part of it is that I'm a creative person.  You probably wouldn't know it looking at my blog but I used to be really into art.  I always took art classes in high school (and college too) and I actually know how to draw.  Maybe not people, but give me a pencil and I can make a mean sketch of that fruit over there.  I haven't been doing a lot of that lately.  Ever since I stopped taking classes, I've found that I don't take time to foster my creative side.  Even with dance.  I used to live for it, but now I barely have time.  My creativity has suffered, and I feel like I'm stuck in a rut.  So I'm trying to pull myself out by learning a new skill.  One that would be very helpful.  And great when it comes time to give gifts.  Can you say picture frames anyone?

Part of it is that I want to document things.  I want to document what I see, what I feel, and what is going on around me.  For too much of my life, I don't have that documentation.  My first two months are in the shadows.  The first baby picture I have is one they sent my parents to show what I looked like at two months old.  I'm not even looking at the camera.  It's a horrible picture, and I hate it.  I can't go back and recreate those pictures.  I'll never know what I looked like at a week, or a month, or two.  I'll never have a picture of my first Christmas.  There are no pictures that exist of me and my first mother because she refused to even look at me.  Wonderful huh?  But I can make sure that I have pictures from the rest of my life.  I can make sure that I can look back years from now and say, "See?  I was a person.  I existed.  And I lived."  I want my family to look back and see how many nice memories we made.  My latest group of pictures on Facebook came out really nice from the family wedding this weekend.  I know they appreciated it (they said so) and a few Christmas card pictures could potentially be used.  So that was pretty cool that I had documented that.

I took about twenty pictures of a pine cone last week.  Go figure.  But it finally came out the way I wanted it to.  It took patience.  It took practice.  And I couldn't give up on it.  And the best shot?  It was somewhere in the middle.  I had to go through each and every shot a few times to find it.  And it's not perfect.  I'm sure that if anyone reading is a serious photographer, they can see the flaws in the picture.  But that's ok.  It's a start.  I'm learning a lot, and not just about taking pictures.  I'm learning about life, and the best way to live it, aware of my surroundings and looking for the beauty in all things.

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!

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!

I will not blog about this...

My messed up attempt
at an apple...

I will not blog about this... I will not blog about this... I will not blog about this...

I will not blog about a certain person who passed away last week....

I will not blog about possibly the world's most famous adoptee at the moment...

I will not blog about the idiocy of some of the statements about if he could have been aborted...

I will not blog about the debate if we would have iProducts if he hadn't been adopted...

I will not blog about a book and possibly a movie coming out about his life and how I highly doubt either will show adoption issues realistically...

I will not blog about his behavior and how sometimes it was classic adoptee behavior...

I will not blog about nature vs. nurture and how it shaped him...

I will not blog about this... I will not blog about this... I will not blog about this...

(I wonder if I type it enough times it will work and I won't blog about it???  Or maybe I'll just give myself credit that I waited a week!)

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.

More Family Drama

Well, it's been an interesting week.  And for the first time, I feel I've been a bit alienated from my adoptive family.  I'm talking about my extended adoptive family just for clarification.

I always considered myself to be a "lucky one".  Not only do I have great adoptive parents (they have their flaws but who doesn't?) but I also have a big adoptive family which accepted me.  We're all very different, and there were times growing up when I felt very alone, but for the most part, I was never made to feel like an outsider on purpose.  My mom's sisters knew how much she had struggled, and wanted a child, and everyone sort of just jumped right on bored.  Maybe this wasn't the case at first, but by the time I was aware of anything, everyone seemed to be fine with my adoption.  It's never brought up.

I was never treated differently than my other cousins.  As I got older, I was treated differently because I acted differently.  While a number of my cousins (there are a lot of them) don't really go out of their way to stay in touch with my grandparents, I do.  I call once a week, stop in to say hi on my way home from work, and take the time to get to know them.  I have issues with my grandparents in the past (my grandfather and I don't get a long at all), but it's a personality thing, and a generational thing.  Not an adoption thing.  Of this I am sure.

My mom's family has weight issues.  Not major weight issues, but enough that there's a lot of dieting.  Someone is always on a diet.  Someone always looks great one Thanksgiving, and then packs on the pounds the next Thanksgiving.  It's just the way things are.  Thanks to genetics and the fact that I can't eat a lot of foods, I am a thin person.  I wasn't always super thin.  My boyfriend remarked the other day that my high school picture looks different to him.  I told him it was because I was twenty pounds heavier, so my face was rounder.  He couldn't get over it!  After high school, I had to stop eating a lot of my favorite foods because they were making me sick.  I can't eat pizza, ice cream, anything acidic, or drink milk, beer, OJ, soda, or anything with carbonation.  This means that I'm pretty much screwed when it comes to eating.  Sometimes it doesn't matter what I eat, I'm still going to feel sick no matter what. Case and point, I ate breakfast yesterday, managed to get some Cheerios down this morning, and will find a way to get down some food at lunch time.  So that's two days in a row where I've only been able to eat one full meal each day.  Not quite the best way to maintain a healthy weight.  It is what it is and when I feel better I'll go back to my normal diet (I really love food and eat lots of it when I can!) but the result is that I'm barely maintaining a healthy weight.  It's not something that I like to talk about because I know that it's a lot more common for people to loose weight and that a lot of my family members struggle with it.  I don't see them having much sympathy for me, so I keep quiet about it.  Plus there are so many other family members who are a lot sicker than I am.

My cousin is getting married in November.  We're all thrilled (we love his fiancee) and a few cousins decided to do a friendly competition to see who could lose the most weight.  Clearly I'm not joining in on this competition. Yet, I'm getting fifteen emails a day regarding this "friendly competition".  So I figured, I'd change things up a bit for me.  I'd use it as inspiration to get in shape.  I might be thin, but I'm very out of shape.  I can barely run a mile and survive.  So while everyone else is trying to lose weight for the wedding to feel good about themselves, I figured I'd get in shape and feel good about myself too.  So I told them I'd donate a $10 lottery ticket to the winner.  Well, apparently that was the wrong thing to do.  In following emails, I was labeled an "other" along with my uncle's girlfriend (someone else who's an outsider in the family) and it became pretty clear we weren't wanted.  I wrote an email explaining that I wanted to get in shape along with them and while for me that doesn't mean losing weight, I was going to try to add exercise to my day.  Didn't matter, I was still an "other" and they were going to kick me off the email list.  My cousin spoke up for me and let me know that I was more than welcome as long as that one particular aunt didn't care.  Things spiraled out of control from that point on.

I let them know I wasn't happy with the way things were going and asked to be taken off the email list.  My aunt apologized (she was just "joking around") and I've been kept on the list, though I haven't responded back. I think this was just so hard for me because it's the first time I've felt directly labeled as an "other" in my family.  And it didn't take a genius to realize who else was being labeled an "other", the one other person on that list that wasn't considered to be "real family" by a lot of people.

I think that my aunt and I need to have a talk at some point. She's going through a lot right now.  I know she has a lot on her plate.  But I do think she needs to understand how I was reading that email chain.  I don't know if she realized how I would make that jump.  She knows about my reunion, and she said she was supportive, but she's the aunt I was worried about.  I don't want to stir up more drama, but this is my family. I know I could easily let this go, and maybe I will.  And I'm so over it at this point.  But I do think this is something that is going to come up again.  And hopefully next time I won't lose it again.  I don't think my poor boyfriend can handle the tears again lol!

Family Dynamics

This post was moved here: http://insertbadmovietitlehere.wordpress.com/2011/08/19/family-dynamics/

Culture Question

So I've been having a lot of conversations lately about my adoption. The same thing has come up a number of times. People scratch their heads when they find out my ethnicity. I guess I should take a step back for a minute and explain why I bring it up. First, I never knew my ethnicity before. I mean, I guessed, but I didn't know for sure. My boyfriend is 25% Irish and burns in the sun, but looking at him, you'd never know. So my thinking was always "Well, I look Portuguese, come from an area that's dominantly Portuguese, but who really knows?" Now that I know I'm over 80% Portuguese, I'm proud of that. I'm not proud that I don’t know a lot about the culture, the country, or the people, but I'm finally learning about it.

What's interesting to me, is that when I tell people, I've heard the same comment from various ( and unconnected) people. They all scratch their heads because "That's a tight knit community. It's surprising that a 'traditional' Portuguese family would give away a child." My mother's family was always described as being very traditional. Now I always saw that as meaning they were very Catholic (because they are) and couldn't support the whole child out of wedlock thing. But other's see it more as we-keep-our-own kind of thing. I've also heard that Portuguese culture is very dependent on how things will look to the neighbors. Which explains the whole, we-don't-want-an-out-of-wedlock-child thing. So who knows?

I've been trying to do more research online about Portuguese culture. Seeing as NeverTooLate grew up in that environment, maybe I would understand her a little bit better if I knew more about where she comes from (and therefore where I come from in a sense). I've been hitting a bit of a brick wall though. I can't seem to find any good websites that would give me information about this culture, probably because everyone keeps telling me they are a close knit community. So if anyone out there has any suggestions, I would absolutely love to hear them. Thanks!

What Would I Say to My 16 Year Old Self

Have you ever wished you could go back in time?  I've done a lot of thinking about this very thing.  A few years ago, I bought a Brad Paisley album, and Letter to Me got me thinking.  What would I right to myself when I was 16?  I've come up with a few things.  This would be my letter.

Dear Jenn,

First of all, you are beautiful.  Don't let anyone tell you differently.  Girls are mean and boys are stupid.  And the ones that have noticed you (and they have) are too scared to say anything.  So keep your head up and it will all work out in the end.  There's a wonderful guy waiting for you, he's just in a different state.  You'll meet him someday (not too far away) and you'll understand why it took so long.  You had to be ready for him.  You had to deal with the heartache because it makes that love feel so much better.  So plow through this mess of high school and you'll eventually find what you're looking for.  Ironically enough, it's just when you stop looking.

I know that you haven't had the best track record with friends.  It's frustrating I know.  I know that it's hard for you to trust people but hang in there.  It does get better.  You will someday have that best friend you've been waiting for.  And she'll be right under your nose for a long time before you see the true potential of your relationship.  So be friendly to everyone, and keep an open mind.  You will one day truly have the best friend that you've always wanted, and she'll be like your sister.

I know you have a lot of questions about where you came from.  You will get your answers.  You'll find both of them, and you'll have some ups and downs.  But in the end, it will totally be worth it.  And you'll have some wonderful surprises along the way.  It won't be easy.  In fact, it's going to be one of the hardest, if not THE hardest thing you've ever done.  But in the end you'll survive.  And you'll have a better idea of who you are.  And by the way, your mother was not a whore, your father did not abandon her, and you don't have to be ashamed of where you came from.  They are good people who were caught up in a bad situation.  You'll understand someday.

Finally, you have the strength and courage to deal with the hard road ahead.  And it's not all tough stuff.  You have some amazing times coming along.  You have some wonderful memories to make up ahead.  You'll travel, you'll fall in love, you'll laugh, you'll cry you're so happy.  So smile, press on, and live life.

-Jennifer

PS - Don't ever give up dance.  It's your life and you'll miss it if you stop.

Who I Could Have Been

One of the things that I think is unique to being adopted is that I am constantly shadowed by the other people that I could have been.  I could have been so many other people.  Sure, a normal person can make a major decision that can affect their lives and they are different people because of a choice they make, but for me, I didn’t make a choice about my basic identity.  There literally are other people that I could have become.

I could have been the person I should have been had I been raised by my first parents.  That person would have grown up knowing her heritage.  She would have known where she came from, would know how to pronounce the dishes that were served in her house, would have a strong relationship with her grandparents, and would have less material things growing up.  That girl would have seen her mannerisms reflected in her parents and would have two younger sisters.  People would comment about how much she looked like her family, and would have been told “You look JUST like your mother did at that age!”  Also, that girl potentially might not have had the relationship with her father that I enjoy with SinginInTheRain.  We may be the “same” people, but I’m wondering if we are too much alike for us to have had a good “real” father-daughter relationship.

There are also the people I could have been if I had been adopted by another family.  I know there three families NeverTooLate and SinginInTheRain were given to pick from.  That means there were two other families that I could have been raised by.  There are two other people I could have been.

I might have been raised Jewish.  I would know all about Judaism, a religion that I have a lot of respect for.  I wouldn’t go to Church every Sunday, Christmas wouldn’t be my favorite holiday, and I doubt I would have gone to my Jesuit school.  I would have been raised with a different value system, taught different things, and who knows how religious I would have been.

I might have been raised by the other family.  I would have been from a different town.  I would have a different group of friends, and I would have gone to a different high school.  I had a rough time in high school, maybe in a different life I could have been one of the popular girls.  Maybe I would have had boyfriends galore.  Maybe I would have had a kid at a young age in order to be more like my mother.  Maybe I would have been a straight A student trying to impress my impossible parents.  Maybe they would have divorced.  Maybe they would have been alcoholics.  Maybe they would have been saints.  You never know…

The events in my life, good and bad, have shaped who I am as a person, and I would have missed out on all of that.  I would be a different person than I am writing this blog and to be honest, there are days when those ghosts seem to haunt me.  I carry them with me wherever I go, and I try to honor the people I could have been by being as open minded as possible.  When I disagree with someone, I try to remind myself that I could have been raised in a way that I would have been on their side in another life.  It gives me perspective sometimes.  And other times it doesn't...

It's hard to live with the "What ifs" and I try not too.  Doesn't stop me from blogging about them from time to time though... :-)

Stories

I've been doing a lot of thinking about why I love hearing stories about my first parents these days.  I was so excited to hear about their first date this week, and it sort of struck me.  I mean, I never asked my adoptive parents about their first date, so why did it matter where my first father took my first mother?  It got me thinking about the difference between the two.

In some way, my adoptive parents' first date was sort of important to me.  They raised me and it's a part of my history because if they hadn't met and gotten married, I wouldn't have been raised the way I was.  But at the same time, if they didn't raise me, someone else would have.  I'd either be Jewish, or with that other Catholic family that was somehow deemed unworthy by my first parents.  I love my parents, don't get me wrong, but if not them, someone else would have been my parents.  I would be another version of myself, and I'd have another story to tell.  That's the thing about being an adoptee.  It's not just one other person who you might have been, such as if you stayed with your first family, but there are a whole bunch of other people you might have been if you had been raised by a different family.  In another life I would have a different name, grew up in a different town, attended different schools, and who knows where I'd be today.  I'd still be talking with my hands, love telling a good story, and I'd still have curly hair that in weather like this I hate.  But that's another post for another day.

My first parents' first date is really important.  If they hadn't eventually gotten together (you know what I mean) I wouldn't have been born.  I wouldn't be here on this planet.  There is no other set of first parents that would have had me.  They're it for me.  Each of us only has one biological father and one biological mother.  We only share DNA from two people and if those two people don't come together, well, we don't exist.  Their first date, the way he asked her out, what made them stay together even after he was caught with another girl, that's ALL a part of my story.  It's a part of my individual history.

If my life was a book, the first chapter wouldn't be when I was born.  It would start the day my parent's met.  It would detail how I came to be.  That's very important because it shows how I, this particular person, came to be.  There is only one me.  I unique and there is nobody else out there with my DNA.  Sure, my experiences are all a part of who I am as a person now.  But without my DNA, I am nothing.

I'm hoping to hear more stories about my first parents when they were younger.  I enjoy them, and I'm learning just how important they are to me.  Until I entered this roller-coaster called reunion, I had no idea just how much I didn't know.  At least you learn something new everyday.