Just Like Me

Have you seen it?  Do you even know what it is?  Well let me tell you about it – then I’ll tell you where to find it!

“It” is a new song/video created by Darryl McDaniels/Lovelace aka Run DMC and Sarah Mclachlan.  It’s a remake/rewrite of the old Harry Chapin song, “Cats In The Cradle,” remember that?

Darryl recently did a special for VH1 about his adoption journey.  Yup, he is “Just Like Me!”  It is an incredible documentary.  They are re-airing it several times so if you haven’t had a chance to see it, you still can.  In the special, Darryl talks about how at one time in his life, he was incredibly suicidal.  Listening to the song “Angel” by Sarah Mclachlan kept him going.  So, when he decided to do “Just Like Me,” he reached out to Sarah and asked her to collaborate, since he felt she was a driving force in his journey.  What did he learn when he contacted her?  She is also an adoptee.

The song/video they created is indescribable.  It’s something you just have to see for yourself.  Make sure you load that in Internet Explorer, it won’t work in Firefox.

To learn more about the VH1 special, check out their website.  You can even have them remind you of when it will be showing!

In the meantime – check out the video – it is so worth it!

Dear mom and dad

Hi, it’s me, your daughter - writing again!  I’ve decided that I’m going to blog letters to you as things come to mind.  I want you to be able to see where I’ve been when we finally meet again.

I’m learning more about you everyday.  I hope you will laugh with me over some of the coincidences and ironies that I’m finding as I search for you.  I’m hoping that at least one of my brothers or sisters has the same appreciation of Science Fiction books, and of Robert Heinlein, because that brother or sister and I are going to have a really good laugh together when all is said and done.

I’m in something of an obsessive phase right now.  You wouldn’t believe the hundreds of search strings I’ve run in the last day or two.  Hundreds?  Hah!  More like thousands.  I’m going to try and let it rest tomorrow.  I need a break from my computer screen.  With that said, I’ll probably be right back here in my chair first thing tomorrow morning running through the same data all over again.  I mentioned I’m in an obsessive phase, didn’t I?

You are becoming more and more real to me with each passing day.  Are you surprised that you haven’t been “real” until now?  Probably, since I’m sure your life feels very real to you.  I hope your life will feel real to me too someday.  Will you let me be a part of your life again?  I hope so.  You have no idea how much I hope so.

I have to admit, it really bothers me that it doesn’t seem like you’re looking for me.  I’ve checked every registry out there – nothing.  On the other hand, a friend of mine, also a first mother, told me that she (and many like her, apparently) feel it is up to the child to come looking because the moms don’t want to intrude where they are not wanted.

You’re wanted, mom.  So are you, dad.  So are my brothers and sisters.  You are not an intrusion, you are a welcome part of my life.  A necessary part.  A part I have been missing for a long time.

I’m dreaming about you.  Weird dreams.  I had a dream last night that we were having our first meeting.  The surroundings were strange.  We were meeting several months “late.”  You told me you had to cancel our first meeting because you were having your appendix removed.  That confused me because you apparently had it removed when you were pregnant with me.  (In real life, not in the dream, but I was aware of it in the dream.)  Suddenly we both started questioning if we were a match or not.  I asked if you had the same mole I have, you said no.  I said that was ok because I could see my own face in yours.  Yup, strange dream.

We’re going to meet, you know.  And it’s going to be sooner rather than later.  I wonder if you can feel how close I am getting.  Do you know I’ve begun looking for you?  Can you feel it somehow? 

I keep thinking about all these aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces and nephews I have out there.  Hubby and I did the math – there could be hundreds of extended family members by now.  Wow.  I want to be a part of that. 

It’s time for me to go to bed.  I’ll see you in my dreams – don’t be late.

 

Amazing how fast a week can pass

I just realized it has been a week since I’ve blogged anything.  Blame it on the hubby – he has been home most of this week as he is transitioning into his new job.  He “officially” starts at 8 AM tomorrow morning. 

It has been an eventful week – and yes, I know, I’ve got a dozen or more emails to answer!  I’ll do my best to get to them this weekend.  I’ve been driving around most every day looking at rental houses so we can finally get out of hotels.  The more I look, the more I become convinced that I need to swallow my fears and just buy a house.  The rentals leave much to be desired.  Have I mentioned that I am extremely picky?

So this is just a short note to say “I’m alive and I will have more to say in a few days!”

Hopefully I’ll have some good news on the house hunting front and maybe on the family hunting front as well. 

Ok, tell me what you think -

Manuela had this on her blog, asking her readers to give feedback on how they perceive her.  I thought it was pretty neat and decided to put one up for myself.  So, if you’d please, visit this link, and pick a few words you think describe me.  You might consider creating one yourself, too – I think it’s kind of cool to get a glimpse into how we see each other.  Have fun!

Some happy personal news

I’ve mentioned before that I travel with my husband for his work.  We’ve been doing this for years.  We were on the road so much traveling from plant to plant that we ended up selling our house and putting our things into storage.  We could not justify paying a mortgage on a place were “visited” only a few weeks a year.  Ever since then, we’ve lived in extended stay hotels and driven anywhere his company sent us, trucking our cats and personal items along with us.  It’s been crazy.

The most recent facility he was sent to was located on Southern Michigan right at the Ohio border.  The closest extended stay hotel was in Ohio, so that’s where we’ve been since last fall.  Now, as a matter of ethics, let me explain that hubby was contracted to work for a company who was working in the plant.  So the plant is NOT his company’s customer.  In his field, that’s an important distinction.

The other engineers at the plant made it known to my hubby that the facility was looking for an in-house engineer like him and that they would really like to see him put in for the position.  We discussed it at length – I was definitely attracted by the idea of finally being able to settle down in one location again.  And I’ve come to really like this area a lot.  We would live near the plant which is in a totally rural area but have a number of bigger towns/cities within a reasonable distance including Toledo, Detroit, Ann Arbor and Adrian. 

They made him an offer today – at a considerably higher salary than he makes now, “technically.”  I say technically because right now, he ends up working, on average, 65 hour weeks.  With the new job, he’ll make the same amount – for 40 hours a week.  A normal life!  Plus, the benefits package is incredible – medical, dental and vision for next to nothing per week.  3 weeks paid vacation.  5 personal days.  5 additional personal days for the week between Christmas Day and New Years, along with all the normal holidays – Christmas, New Years, Easter, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day, Labor Day, etc.  Benefits don’t kick in for 90 days, so the company will pay our COBRA to continue our current coverage until the new coverage kicks in.  And they’re giving him a stipend to cover the post of his boots and safety glasses.  All total, in his industry, this is a dream position.  And it’s the kind of position you keep until you retire.

He is putting in his 2 weeks notice today.  His current company has a history of firing people as soon as they give notice.  The new company is ready to have him start Monday if that’s what happens.  Or in two weeks, whichever works out. 

So I’ll be house hunting this weekend!  I’ll find a rental house for now.  There are many in the area.  Once we’ve had time to get more familiar with the area and where we want to live, I’ll begin house hunting in earnest. 

It’s so stupid, but I’m sitting here grinning from ear to ear just thinking about getting all my stuff out of storage and moved into a house again.  No more hotel rooms!  Wheeeeee!!!!!

 

Dear mom and dad,

Dear mom and dad,

Guess what I received today?  I received a letter containing the information you provided to the agency when you placed me.  Want to know what I learned?

About mom I learned:

• You had a case of appendicitis when you were pregnant with me.  Was that scary for you?  Were you afraid?  Did the surgery hurt?  Did you recover quickly?  Was your doctor good?  They must have known what they were doing – after all, I got born, didn’t I? 
• I have 5 (not 6) older brothers and sisters!  How many are boys?  How many are girls?  You were only 29, they must be pretty close to me in age, right?  I miss them.  I miss you.
• You and dad were separated.  You were getting ready to proceed with a divorce.  You were facing severe financial problems.  All of that must have been hard.  I’m sorry you were having such a difficult time.
• You are shorter than me!  Thinner too, it seems.  But I got your big bones, and need glasses, too!
• You enjoyed reading and singing.  I can’t (vocally) carry a tune but I read, constantly.  Something else we share!
• You got good grades in school.  So did I!
• You have 8 sisters and 1 brother.  Wow!  Big family!  No wonder you and dad had so many kids!  I’m sorry about your sister, that had to have been hard.
• Grandma had diabetes – don’t worry, I don’t.  And she was an LPN?  You’re going to love hearing some coincidences about that when we meet!

About dad I learned:

• You are 6’3” tall – now I know who I got that from!
• You took 4 years of “special music training” and enjoyed music, electronics and were an artist.  Well, music and electronics, I’ve followed in your footsteps.  Somehow I missed out on the artistic stuff.
• You were an A student.  Maybe some day we can compare report cards!
• You wore glasses, too.  I suppose between you and mom, I was “doomed” in that regard. LOL
• Your only brother died in 1970 at the age of 47.  I’m so sorry for your loss.  You had a rough year between your brother, the divorce and losing your daughter.  I hope you’ve found happiness since then.  He was also diabetic, like mom’s mom.  How I managed to dodge that bullet is beyond me, but I’m glad I did!
• You’re the baby of the family – just like me, huh? 

But do you know what was the most important thing I learned from this letter?  Two sentences.  Two sentences which have the power to undo a world of hurt.

“Your mother needed considerable support for her plan in placing you up for adoption.” 

“Your mother requested information on your adoptive family and said she was having difficulty with the separation.”

You wanted me.  You really wanted me.  You’ve no idea how many wounds that helps heal.

I’m here, mom and dad, I’m here.  Help me find you.  Please, help me find you.

Love,
Your daughter

 

Raw and angry

I had an appointment with the eye doctor today.  First exam I’ve had in several years.  Loved the doctor.  Since it looks like we will be permanently relocating to southern Michigan in the very near future, it will be easy for me to keep seeing this particular optometrist.  Yeay!  Feels like I’m putting down roots again.

Since this was my first visit, I had to fill out the usual patient registration forms.  Get down near the bottom of the page – “Any familial history of…” -sigh–  Pick up the pen and draw a line through it all and write, “no familial history available, patient is adopted.”

Nice doctor brings me back to the exam room.  We spent a good 15 minutes just talking about my vision and the potential for my high blood pressure to impact my vision.  I think it is the longest I’ve ever spent just TALKING to a doctor of any kind, let alone an optometrist.  I explained how it has felt like my eyes have to “settle” before I can really focus on anything, and how much that has been bothering me.  Also explained that this doesn’t seem to happen when wearing my prescription sunglasses.  Well, it turns out that the “eye doctor mill” I went to last time gave me the wrong prescription on my regular glasses.  They were too strong!  All this time, I’ve been thinking I was going to need bifocals.  Turns out the script was too strong.  No wonder I was having such a hard time.

He then spent another 15 minutes very carefully weeding out lenses until it seemed I was seeing ok.  It will take a few weeks for my vision to really improve with new lenses – I’ve “trained” my eyes to compensate for the wrong prescription for so long they have to be retrained.  I also got contacts again.  I’ve worn them on and off since I was 14.  This last time, they just didn’t feel right.  Well, yeah, duh, they were the wrong prescription too.  Right now I’m sitting here typing wearing the right lenses.  Mostly right – I have to pick up new ones for my left eye on Saturday because these aren’t the ones that will correct the astigmatism I have in that eye. 

So anyway, needless to say, writing that “no familial history available, patient is adopted” just brings it all up to the front again.  Maybe you’ve noticed from my recent blog entries – I’ve been in avoidance mode again.  When I start posting about all kinds of crap that has nothing to do with my feelings (Google home pages, linky links, etc.) it is a good sign there is something I’m trying to avoid.

I’m avoiding anger.  I’m avoiding that raw, vulnerable feeling.  I’m avoiding how betrayed I feel by a system which still, 34+ years later, hasn’t gotten it right.  I’m avoiding how angry I feel when I read really scary comments by adoptive parents who just don’t seem to have a clue.  I’m avoiding how angry I feel when I encounter an adoptee or a first mother who thinks that because “they don’t have a problem” no one else should, either. 

I still haven’t given my best friend T a link to my blog.  I did, however, copy some of the posts and email them to him.  Yes, I know, he can use Google to search out a sentence from what I sent him and find my blog - that’s ok.  I’m ok with him “finding” it, just not ready to “give” it.  That makes no sense. LOL  Last night we were chatting on Yahoo and I told him that I really need him to promise that he’ll read them.  He said he promises, he’ll read them this weekend.  I love that, actually.  I love that instead of glancing over them in the midst of a busy week (for him) that he’s holding off until he can devote his attention to them.  I love that he gives enough of a shit to wait and really read them.  I love that I mean enough to him that he wants to know how I feel.  I love that I know he’ll hold my hand through this.  I love that I know he’ll move heaven and earth to protect me from pain.  I love that he is a safe haven.

I mentioned that his little sister is having a baby in a few weeks.  So I went shopping for baby stuff.  Fun!  I went a little crazy. LOL  Put it all in the mail yesterday with a really nice “Grandkids” picture frame for his mom and dad, along with some aroma therapy bath stuff and a Zen relaxation CD for the soon-to-be mommy and daddy.  I also put in a little valentines day present for him.  I used to know his address by heart, but for some reason, couldn’t remember the house number.  So I called his mom to get it (he was at work).  Now mind you, I “disappeared” on them for almost a year.  You’d think one of them would be angry or something.  Nope, mom says “Hi Heart!  It’s good to hear from you!” and we chit chatted for a few about how excited she is, etc.  I love his parents.  I love that they care about me.  I love that they never encouraged him to stop being friends with me through any of my major fuck-ups.  I love that they’ve always treated me as if I’m important, as if I belong.  I love that I have a rock from their garden.  I love that they never thought it was weird that their son and I are best friends like so many of that generation seem to. 

With T’s little valentines day present, I included a nice card I found.  (Side rant:  Why is it that every single “best friend” card on the market, regardless of holiday, is always one woman talking to another????  My best friend is a GUY for crying out loud, not some girlie girl!)  So I was sitting here signing all the cards that were going in the package – card for mommy and daddy to be, card for grandparents to be, card for T.  Card for T. -sigh–  I started writing.  Signed my name, thought I was done.  Nope, had to write on the inside panel of the card.  I don’t remember the exact words, but it went something like this:
Please don’t ever let me get away with disappearing like this again.  Please don’t let me run, don’t let me hide.  Please don’t let me do this.  You are too important to me.  I need you in my life, even when I pretend I don’t.  I need both you and hubby in order to feel complete.  Don’t let me walk away.

I basically went on like that for a few sentences.  And before I get any snotty comments from anyone, hubby reads this blog too.  There is NOTHING I would say to T that I wouldn’t want hubby to know about.  Hubby knows how much I love T, how important T is to me.  He also knows there is a world of difference between loving T and being in love with T.  And fortunately, my husband is one of those men who realizes that love is not a finite quantity.  He does not receive LESS love because someone else also receives love.  If anything, he receives more – because not only do I love him but T loves him, too.  So please, keep the prudish comments to yourself. 

Anyway, back to what I was saying.  I probably could have told T those same words over the phone, or in email or in IM – but for some reason, it felt more right to write them out by hand.  They are things I need him to hear, desperately.  But things I have a hard time saying.  I need for him to hold onto me even when I’m trying to push away from him.  (Attachment therapy, anyone?)  I can’t do all of this without him.  He forces me to face things I don’t want to face.  I need someone who can do that for me.  Left to my own devices, I bury it.  I can’t keep doing that.  I can’t keep running away.

Thank the gods this is a burden T has always willingly taken upon himself.  And thank them again for giving me the strength to write the words begging him to not let me run again.  I can trust now that he won’t.  I can also trust that he’ll help hubby keep me from doing it as well.  The two of them work very well together. LOL 

I just feel really raw right now.  My copy of my non-id still hasn’t arrived.  Every morning I wait eagerly for the hotel staff to slip the letter under my door – it hasn’t happened yet.  The agency said they’d get it out at the end of last week.  I hope it is on the way here.  I feel a strong need to hold those papers in my hands.  I keep thinking I’ll find something in them that will help me find my family.  Please let it be so.  I need to finish this before I run away again and it is too late.

 

A day in our life

Somewhere in the world, there are 5 or 6 adults who are probably sleeping right now, dreaming their dreams, perhaps snoring, maybe lying beside their spouses or lovers.  They are my brothers and sisters.

Somewhere in the world, 5 or 6 adults probably enjoyed a Sunday afternoon, perhaps cooked dinner with their families, maybe watched a little television.  They are my brothers and sisters.

Somewhere in the world, 5 or 6 adults are celebrating wedding anniversaries, or birthdays, or other milestone events periodically throughout the year.  On certain dates, they probably pick up the phone and call each other to say “Happy Birthday.”  At Christmas, they probably spend weeks shopping for one another and for nieces and nephews, maybe even for grandkids.  They are my brothers and sisters.

Somewhere in the world, 5 or 6 adults might be sitting in front of their TVs watching the same programs I’m watching, or sitting in front of computers surfing the same sites I am.  Perhaps I’ve played an online game with them at some point, who knows?  Perhaps we’ve viewed websites together.  Maybe we’ve even been in some of the same chat rooms or on the same discussion forums.  They are my brothers and sisters.

Somewhere in the world, there are little children tucked safely in their beds, maybe cuddling a favorite stuffed animal, blanket or pillow.  They may be dreaming of sugar plums or dragons, of learning to fly or of going to Disney.  They are the children of my brothers and sisters.  Will they ever know they have an aunt who loves them, who hopes  they have beautiful lives?

We’ve looked at the same moon, enjoyed the light of the same stars.  The same sun shines on us all.  We’ve perhaps passed each other on an interstate, driving by without knowing that a few feet away rides someone who has the same blood flowing through their veins.  Maybe we have seen the same sunrise, watched the same sunset.  Walked the same streets, shopped in the same stores, saw the same sights.  It’s possible we’ve sat on the same bench in the park or in the same row in a theatre.  And never knew that the other has passed right by.

Do they ever dream about me?  Do I show up in their dreams as they do in mine?  Am I ever in their thoughts as they are so often in mine?  Has one of them sat and written similar words as I’ve written here, glancing at the moon and thinking, “she sees this too.”

Think about your brothers or sisters – do you know what foods they like?  When they come to visit, do you know what drinks to have on hand for them?  Could you choose a present for them with confidence, knowing it is something they would enjoy?  Have you had the pleasure of shopping for a gift for their baby?  When something significant happens in your life, do you call your siblings to tell them?  Did you come together to grieve at the funeral of a loved one?  Did you argue over who got the biggest piece of cake?  Do you have years of memories stored away of things you did together as children?

I don’t even know my siblings names.  They look like me, our DNA is very similar, and somewhere out there is a woman who knows about all of us, knows we all exist, knows all the secrets.  I only hope she reveals her secrets before it is too late for us all.

Somewhere in the world they dream, somewhere in the world I dream – maybe we can meet there.

Amazing how a simple phone call can make you stupid happy

Don’t get too excited, this isn’t about adoption. LOL 

I just got off the phone with my best friend T.  Read the previous two posts for background. 

I’m on cloud 9 over here, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

What is of primary importance to me is that despite my foolish behavior, he still loves me, is still the same friend he always was.  It was as if no time had passed at all, we picked up where we left off aside from having news to share – like he’s going to be an uncle in about 3 weeks.  I’m blown away that his little sister is going to be a mommy – in my mind, she’s still a young’un.  LOL  She’s not, she’s about 26 now.  I mean, I “knew” her age of course, even when we were still talking day in and day out – I just didn’t think of her as being old enough to be a mom, which of course she is and has been for a long time!  His dad and mom (in particular) are excited about becoming grandparents – I’m excited for all of them.  And since they know the baby is going to be a boy, Auntie Heart is going to go do some shopping this weekend!  Whee!

There was other news and sharing, of course, most of it personal. 

Talking to him, I felt safer and more secure than I’ve felt in a long time.  When he finally reads this blog, he’ll know the exact moment in our conversation when that safety and security came flooding back.  It’s one of those ritual-like things I mentioned in an earlier post.  It was such a relief for me.  Physical, emotional, mental – total relief.  I feel like this enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

I’m going to bed now.  Happy.  Going to bed happy, that’s a good thing.

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me

In my last entry, I blogged about my self-created drama with my best friend.  Well ladies & gents, he wrote back.  And he still loves me. 

Did you ever have someone you were close to and you had a really special “uniquely yours” way of communicating the specialness of your relationship?  Some cutsie words, a little ritual, something?  We have one of those things – well, several, actually – but a special way of saying “I love you” that is uniquely ours.  It’s rooted in a typo. LOL  That special phrase conveys a lot of sentiment in two words – it says “I love you, I care about you, you are important to me, you are my best friend, you are irreplaceable, there is always room for you here, you are part of me in a very real way.”  And he’s still signing his letters to me with it.    (Those are good tears, by the way)

I called hubby to tell him, he’s thrilled.  He knows how much I’ve missed T.  I said, “he still loves me” and he said, “I knew that.”  He’s happy, I’m happier. LOL

So I sent T a sort of rambling email back.  I told him about my search, about this blog, about my new friends here.  I told him that I was afraid to give him a link.  I said:

 
I want to share my blog with you but I'm afraid to.  Stupid, isn't it?  It's not because I'm afraid for you to know how I feel about things, after knowing each other for so long, it's a little late for that, isn't it? LOL  I'm afraid you'll be hurt because I haven't talked about you.  I'm not good at talking about you because it meant talking about me and admitting my mistakes.  I got good (unfortunately) at talking "around" you.  But it meant that there were things I didn't blog about because in order to do so, I'd have to also explain why you aren't here now.  So I just kept that stuff to myself.  Which makes progress hard since you were so central to everything in my life. 

So I just kept telling myself I'd "deal with it tomorrow."  Notice a pattern, here?  Tomorrow turns into weeks, months and a year really quickly. 
Then I started telling myself you were better off not having to deal with my shit.  "No more bullshit."  Well, I'm mired in it.  Except now it's totally personal drama, not of someone else's making, not of someone else's influence.  It's the worst kind of bullshit there is, the kind that takes a lifetime to accumulate and I don't know how long  to wash away.  So I told myself I was doing you a favor by sparing you from it.  Smart, huh? 

I think he’ll understand that.  I also told him:

Those are actually probably the hardest - the time when it is hardest for me to just shove the sadness away and pretend it's not there.   It's always there, every time I think of something I know I should be sharing with you.  Which basically means every day.  Is it worse knowing you did nothing to deserve this?  That it had nothing to do with you "doing something" to make me pull away?  Knowing that I have it in me to isolate myself so completely to the exclusion of all else, including my best friend?  What kind of friend am I and why on earth would you want that kind of friend?  That's what I wrestle with and what makes it easy to stay silent, hidden, away, where I don't have to face the music.  I've gotten far too good at that.

I know I’ll eventually give him a link to this, because I can’t not do that.  I can’t keep all this from him, nor do I want to.  I need him to know all of this.  I’ve needed that for a while.  I’ve missed him so much, missed having his support, missed having him to calm me down and lift me up.  I’m feeling so relieved tonight.  Now I’m sitting here hoping he’ll want to call later.  I want to hear his voice.
 

I am supposed to be sleeping

I am supposed to be sleeping, but it is 1:20 in the afternoon and I’m awake.

I have a best friend.  I want you to know that I have a best friend.  I have known him for, what, -counting backwards– shit, this seems impossible, almost 10 years?  Holy crap.  Wow.  Seriously, you’ve no idea how mind blowing that is.  Ok, anyway.  My best friend, I’ll call him “T” was the best man at my wedding.  My husband had no issue with this, he and T immediately hit it off the first time I introduced them and became fast friends.  T is also “an ex” of mine.  Seriously.  Hard to imagine in hindsight but at one time, we actually thought maybe we’d build a life together.  Uh, 10 years ago we were both really young.  Yeah, that’s it, that’s the ticket.

By some miracle, that relationship evolved into an extremely close friendship.  I confided things in him I never would have even considered telling anyone else.  The passion died (more like, we euthanized it deliberately) and what was left was this warm, loving friendship which I’ve never felt with anyone else.  He is a “big brother” (though younger than me by 4 years), best friend, “hold-me-when-I’m-scared-and-make-the-monsters-go-away” kind of person, all rolled into one.  I want to be clear, I have absolutely no romantic feelings for him whatsoever.  This isn’t a case of “me thinks she doth protest too much,” this is a case of people seem to be unable to fathom that one can have an extremely close, emotionally intimate friendship with someone without it having romantic strings or overtones attached.  Imagine your dream version of a big brother – someone you can lean on, someone you can count on, the stereo-typical non-husband protector.  That’d be T.  And I am his little sister. 

Here’s the catch:  I haven’t spoken to T in almost a year.  This is 10% the fault of a conflict between the email server I was using some time ago and 90% my own fault.

I’m sitting here crying and in fear because I just sent him an email, and I have no idea how he is going to respond.  What’s my response to these feelings?  Blogging.

I only started realizing a few months back that I have this twisted pattern of behavior – rejecting before I can be rejected.  In the course of my life, I’ve played this scenario out with pretty much every person I’ve ever known.  There were two exceptions to this:  My husband and T.  Somehow, and I’m not really sure how, last year I allowed it to play out with T.  Things dragged on and off for a few months with me making a few attempts to reach out, him answering and me dropping the ball again.  I’m not sure what sort of response I was hoping for from him – I’m not sure that any response save flying across the country and planting himself on my doorstep would have gotten me to stop playing games.  I’m not even sure THAT would have been enough. 

As most of you know, my behavior has nothing to do with him.  It has nothing to do with anything he did or didn’t do – the gods know that man has the patience of a saint.  And I swear to you, he has never once in our entire relationship tried to hurt me in any way.  That’s not to say I’ve never been hurt, I have, but not because of something he did (though at the time I certainly “enjoyed” blaming him back when we were still involved). 

He and my husband are nearly identical in their loving, sensitive, sweet kindness.  Ladies, I’ve had the corner on “good men,” let me tell you.  I have been blessed to have been loved by three amazing, incredible men in my life.  Hubby and T are two of them, J is the third.  Only one I married was hubby, and that was (and is) for the best for all of us.  It is no surprise that the three of them became friends, they are very much alike and have in common all loving one very lucky girl at one time or another.  Instead of that being a divider, it became something which united them.  If there is anyone in the world who has always looked out for what was in MY best interest (even when I wasn’t doing a good job of it), it has been the three of them.  J is another (good) story I’ll get into some time, but not right now. 

So why did I blow it with T?  I have absolutely no idea.  I don’t know why I stopped pursuing when emails were bouncing with weird rejections from AOL.  I know that T wasn’t “rejecting” me – I know it was a conflict between AOL and my (then) service provider, that he wasn’t even seeing what I sent.  I certainly had T’s phone number.  Why didn’t I call?  His mom and I were always close, it’s not like I had to be afraid of calling his parent’s house!  Why did I just keep letting it go, putting it off, procrastinating, telling myself “I’ll do something about it tomorrow” until a year had passed?  I don’t know!  It was utterly irrational and stupid behavior which made no sense on any level.

I happened to log into the email account I used for a long time.  I hadn’t done so in months.  I found an email from T, from Christmas, sending Christmas wishes and love.  I debated, “Do I respond?  How do I fix this?”  And what did I do?  You guessed it.  Nothing.  Not a thing.  Not a fucking thing.  I sat there, stared at it, and got too scared to respond.

Today I logged back in again.  This time there was an invitation in there from Vonage.  T uses Vonage and apparently tried to invite me to sign up for it as well.  Now mind you, he did this almost 2 years ago as well.  We were still speaking back then.  So I looked at this invite and wondered, “Did he just invite me again?  Is he trying to reach out?  Or is this just something the Vonage system generated because I’m in their files somewhere?  Did he initiate this on Feb. 9th like it says, or is this Vonage just cycling through the names of people in their database who never signed up for their service?”

I don’t know the answer to that yet.  What I did know was that I was not letting one more day go by without responding to him.  So I replied to his Christmas email.

I am afraid to go look and see if he has responded yet.  I know he probably has not.  It has only been a few minutes.  I’m terrified.  I have missed him every single day.  I have a wonderful picture of him and my husband from my wedding day which I look at all the time.  My two favorite men in the world, standing together looking quite handsome on my wedding day.  I love that picture, I even carry a copy in my wallet.

I’ve missed him so much, I can’t even begin to describe it.  Especially as I’ve been going through all of this adoption stuff.  T doesn’t have to “get” adoption, he “gets” me.  He has always “gotten” me – sometimes even having to explain to my husband why I am a certain way.  And somehow this works for all of us, I don’t know how.  They were always both so sure of their place in my life that it seemed to never even cross their minds to be threatened by each other.  T knew I would never be involved with someone who could not handle my friendship with him, that I would never give up our friendship for any man.  Hubby knew that no man could ever be to me what he is, that there is no one in the world who could take his place as the love of my life.  So instead of feeling threatened, they felt love for each other even separate from their love of me.  With their personalities, they’d have been friends even if I hadn’t been in the picture.  I know damn well that I am the luckiest woman on earth for having been loved by these guys.

So how could I risk that?  How could I let that friendship go, even for a moment?  How could I not move heaven and earth to stay in constant contact?  How could I allow myself to cut him out of my life, even for a day?  How could I?

I have a best friend.  The question is, does he still consider me his?

 

 

People on TV

Do you ever look at the faces of people on TV and wonder if you’re related?

I have a favorite artist.  He is a photographer.  His work is definitely not for everyone, but I am always moved by his pieces because I understand what is behind them.  His name is Spencer Tunick.  Don’t click on that link if you are uncomfortable with the idea of seeing hundreds of nude bodies in places like Grand Central Station.

Channels like HBO, Discovery, etc. have all done specials on Spencer’s “Installations.”  He goes to a location and recruits people to be in his photographs.  Notice that I did not say, “he recruits people to pose nude for him.”  His work is not about showing nude people.  He is not a pornographer.  Unless you consider the naked body to be inherently sexual (which I don’t know how any parent can, otherwise we’d never bathe our babies), you will soon see there is nothing sexual about Spencer’s work. 

I love his work.   Fat, thin, black, white, brown, old, young, sick, healthy – everyone in between – he photographs them.  Some of his installations have had thousands of participants – a sea of beautiful skin, the colors blending, as far as the eye can see. 

HBO did a special, “Naked States,” about Spencer’s journey across the 48 contiguous states.  I got to see it the other night.  God, was it powerful.  One segment in particular deeply touched me.  Two women – one white, tall and thin with a closely shaved head – the other was black, short (in comparison), heavy.  Both, beautiful.  He had them pose standing on an American flag in the middle of a street in Boston with an empty lot full of garbage and refuse in the background.  The way he had them pose together, the beauty of these two amazing women.  Wow.  HBO interviewed the black woman, who told a story of how she had been “jumped and raped” 6 months prior.  She talked of how she felt that 90% of her self-healing came from participating in this effort with Spencer and the other woman.  Listening to her speak, both when the shot was taken and then a few months later as follow-up was so powerful, so affirming.  I am in awe of this woman’s quiet strength and power.

For another installation, this time in New York, Spencer had an overweight woman pose on the rocks on the banks of the Hudson.  This beautiful woman spoke of how incredible the experience was, to look at her photographs and see her own beauty.  It is one of many shots I want a print of for my walls.

As I watched her I thought, “she and I could be related,” because we looked a great deal alike.  It makes me wonder…what if?  What if that was one of my sisters?  I’d be thrilled – my kinda gal, since I’d love to be in one of Spencer’s installations.  She could be one of my sisters, and that is an amazing thought to me.  I wish that others could understand what it is like to not know for sure. 

Please don’t dismiss Spencer’s work based on anything I’ve written here.  Examine it for yourself:

Spencer 1  Spencer 2  Spencer 3  Spencer 4

 

Soul of Adoption

So I realized that maybe I should actually talk a bit about Soul of Adoption and what I’m trying to accomplish with it, especially since I’m hoping the same people who I know read my blog will be involved in taking SoA to the next level. 

I first bought the domain and hosting so we could create a space for people to submit their stories about their own experiences with adoption with the intention of eventually compiling them into a book.  We wanted to put together a book of stories which reflected the truth about adoption – that sometimes it is a beautiful, perfect thing for all involved, and sometimes it is not.  We wanted a website because no book can contain every story, and no story is ever really complete.  Having a site where stories could forever be added, changed and updated was important if we are going to truly express each individual’s truth. 

That is still SoA’s primary purpose.  The “problem,” if you can call it that, is that I’m probably going to have to build a database from the ground up on which to base the story submission side of things.  So for now, I’ve got it configured so people can submit their stories via the discussion forum.  Which is why I installed a discussion forum on the server in the first place.  It was a quick fix to a long term need – a place for people to start putting their stories. 

Then it seemed that people might want to talk about the stories they read – but I did not and do not feel comfortable with people being able to comment directly on a story.  No one wants to put their heart out there only to have it ripped apart by some unthinking individual.  So, I created a subforum where people could talk about the stories they read without having to worry about “tainting” the original.  Then I thought, “people might want to talk about other things, too.”  It has been growing since then.

I’m really driven by midnight inspirations.  They hit me, and I run with them.  Through this whole process, I’ve thought a lot about what sort of “needs” I was looking to have fulfilled through my journey.  No site has met them all.  I want a space where I can talk just with other adoptees – I’ve got that, through Wraith’s group.  I wanted a space I can talk with other members of the plane.  Got that through adoption.com and these blogs.  Registries, there are dozens.  An actual link list pointing to sites by and for specific roles on the plane?  Good luck finding one where 3/4ths of the links aren’t dead.  So I started building one – and Linky Links were born.  Let’s make that a little easier and create a ring.  Check, did that.  Anyone can join and no one has to keep updating links on their pages if they don’t want to.  Cool. 

But it keeps growing and escalating.  I keep feeling like there has to be some space to bring all of this together, and not only for me and my part of the plane.  I don’t doubt that there are first moms who want a totally safe space to only talk with other first moms.  Adoptive moms who want a totally safe space to talk only with other adoptive moms.  Same for adoptees.  And foster.  And dads, of course.  Most also want to venture out and hang with others on the plane, learning from them and their experiences.  So I started envisioning a forum where there is a general “chat at will” section and some private spaces where members have to be invited to participate after establishing themselves for a bit in the general population – let’s face it, no one likes to feel someone is peeking at their private parts. LOL 

Now, I know that we all know of sites who try to be open to everyone.  I also know that a lot of first moms and adoptees in particular are a bit put off by the fact that these sites are peppered with ads almost entirely funded by adoption agencies.  It puts me off, too.  I don’t want to be talking about my pain as an adoptee only to glance up and see a banner ad screaming “PICK ME!!  ADOPTION IS WONDERFUL!!  GIVE YOUR BABY THE PERFECT LIFE!!!” and other variations.  On the flip side, most of the sites which focus on the birth family or adoptee, well, they tend to have a lot of “ADOPTION IS EVIL” rhetoric.

There has to be a middle ground.

That’s what I’m hoping SoA will be.

I do not ever plan on allowing adoption agency ads on SoA.  Nor will I have anti-adoption ads there either.  Articles that are anti-adoption, sure.  Along with articles that are pro-adoption.  And a few sort of “sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t” articles, too.  I’m looking at other ways of making the site self-sustaining, like voluntary donations to support the site.  Heck, if I can raise $35/month, all the hosting fees are covered, and that’s plenty.  I don’t need to make money off of this or anything else and, if I have to, I’ll support SoA entirely out of my own pocket for as long as I can. 

Anyway, back to evolution.  So, ok, I got to thinking about the forums.  Figured I’d better at least add a space for people to post “searching” posts.  Well, we all know what a pain in the butt THOSE can be.  Ever tried paging through 1,000 pages of posts?  I have – needle in a haystack comes to mind.  That’s not good enough for me.  Then I noticed that one of the software scripts I get free with my hosting has this classified ads server.  Hmmmm – what neat thing could I do with that?  Some of you saw today the result of that – a nice registry.  Can I really scare you and tell you I did that in one night? LOL  It definitely needs some more tweaking.  It still isn’t as user friendly as I’d like, but it will be in a few days when I’m done tweaking the code.  I don’t want to post a link because I don’t want people putting in ads yet, but if you’re interested in seeing it and testing it by putting in an ad I am going to delete in a day or two, drop me an email, I’ll send you the link.

What is so great about this registry?  Well, you have to renew your ad for one thing.  The system notifies you (automatically!) 5 days before your post expires.  If you renew it, it stays.  If you don’t, the system drops it.  One of the most frustrating things with most registries and forums is that the contact information is out of date.  With this system, if your renewal notice bounces, the ad is dropped.  Love that.  (Plus it keeps my server space down.)  Right now I have it set to renew every 6 months.  I may shorten that time.  Seems it might be prudent to do so.

In addition, your “post” has drop-down menus for you to select the MM/DD/Year of birth – no more trying 20 different date combinations.  Same for States.  Also for role (birth family, adoptee, etc.).  With the ability to select “other” or “unknown.”  And a space for you to type in additional information.  All of this is searchable.  If you’re looking for someone in Illinois, you don’t have to worry about searching for IL and ILL and Illinoi and Ilinoyse, etc.  They will have chosen “Illinois” when they filled out their ad, and you will select “Illinois” when you search for it.  Spelling is not an issue here.   Love that, too.

It probably sounds complex the way I’m describing it, I promise, it is not.

If someone doesn’t want to search, they will be able to simply (once I’m done tweaking) sort all posts by Month, Date, Year, City, State or Role within the appropriate category.  Categories are broken down by decades – again, easy to use.  No one wants to have to look in 10 different places to see if someone is looking for them.  I know I don’t.

In addition, because of the way I’ve set up the software which “drives” the site, I can set additional people as “authors.”  So let’s say Kim Kim, Manuela and Wraith each want to write a monthly column.  I can set them up as authors on the site, they can write their columns and post them much the same way they now post to their blogs.  Very cool, and it means I don’t have to be the only one responsible for creating content.  Even better!

I’ll also probably end up starting an Amazon Associates account.  Basically, we create a list of adoption-related books based on the ones everyone says are a “Must Have,” and then provide links for people to buy them from Amazon – and the site earns a few extra bucks.  But even better than that, it will allow us to provide free “advertising” for our friends who have written their own books like Bob and Zara – for them, we can feature the book and point to their sites for ordering instead of Amazon. 

I don’t know what else SoA will turn into – I know what it will NOT turn into, however:
It will NOT be a space covered in commercial messages about how great it is to adopt OR how lousy it is.
It will NOT be a commercial site run by a corporation – it belongs to members of the plane and will be run by members of the plane.
It will NOT be a one-sided “every other position sucks” kind of place.
It will NOT be an abandoned mess of outdated information and dead links and listings.  I’ll shut it off before I let that happen.
It will NOT be a “pay to play” site where you are required to pay money to use it or to register on it.
It will NOT be a space for anyone to make money off of adoption – including paid searchers, lawyers, agencies, etc.
It will NOT be a space to find a child to adopt or to find someone to adopt your child.  Solicitation of that nature will never be allowed.
It will NOT be a space where someone feels pressured to hold certain beliefs about adoption, whatever those beliefs may be.

And to sum up what I know it WILL be:

It WILL be a space where every member of the plane feels they can find what they’re seeking, without pressure.
It WILL be a space which supports members of the plane in having their voices heard.
It WILL be a space where the true Soul of Adoption – the people affected by it in their lives, not their jobs – is expressed, explored and explained.
It WILL be a space which people can use as a portal to some of the other great spaces on the internet available to those involved in adoption.
It WILL be a space where members of the plane can promote their books, their music, their art, ensuring their voices are heard.
It WILL be a space which offers companionship, friendship and a supportive environment.
It WILL be a space which challenges our current adoption methods and looks to the future.
It WILL be a space of reunions, and where the truth of those reunions, for “good” or “ill” can be shared.
It WILL be a space of reliable, up to date information and resources.
It WILL be a community created by the true Soul of Adoption – you, and you, and you, and me, and them, and him, and her.  Us. 

We are the Soul of Adoption, and our voices WILL BE HEARD.

 

I'm proud of my city

OK, this has nothing to do with me being adopted as a child.  It does, however, have everything to do with my having adopted a city. 

My “about me” says Northeastern Ohio because that is where I am, currently.  In a hotel in NE Ohio.  Home is Michigan, just outside Detroit.  When we’re not travelling for his job, Michigan is where hubby and I call home.

Detroit (and Michigan) are my adopted home.  I’ve lived here less than a decade.  About 1/4th of my life has been spent on the streets of this great state.  They have been, in every way, the happiest years of my life.  Much of the credit for that goes to my husband and his family, without a doubt.  Not only have they shown me love and affection and treated me not “as if I were family” rather, exactly AS family, but my mother & step-father-in-law in particular have helped show me the beauty and wonders that are Michigan.  Father-in-law (DadB) has also had a hand in this, just not as many opportunities as Mom and DadT have had.

I’m one of those weird married women who really loves her in-laws.  So much so that I hate the designation “in-law” while also loving it because it clearly differentiates these wonderful parents from the parents who raised me.  If I have a mom and dad, people worthy of the name – Mom, DadT and DadB are it.  Let me put it to you like this:  I willingly go on vacation with my in-laws.  And in so doing, I have been blessed to see “The Michigan” most people don’t even dream exists.

My husband is funny.  He was born and raised in Michigan.  He has traveled, of course, and even did a college stint in another state, but the only place he really knows well is Michigan.  In contrast, I’ve lived in a bunch of different states for long period of time.  I grew up just outside Chicago in fact.  Always loved Chicago, still love the food.  Growing up there, I was never afraid of “the city.”  We went to “the city” for everything – shopping, entertainment, dining – everything.  Weekend came, everyone headed “downtown.”  Michiganders don’t do that.  At least not if “downtown” refers to Detroit.  The whole country is afraid of us.  We’re like the nation’s ghetto.  “Anywhere” is better than Detroit.  People are murdered there!  Gangs roam the streets!  People carry guns!  -insert assorted other hysterical comments here–  My husband thought I was nuts for wanting to go “downtown” years ago.  He has since become more comfortable doing so and rarely gives me funny looks anymore. 

This weekend, Detroit showed the world the face I’ve known it has had for years.  I’m damn proud of my city, folks.  We did what everyone said couldn’t be done – we hosted a right fine party and everyone survived.  When hubby and I are home, we head to Detroit about once a week.  We have dinner, or go to a casino, or cross the border into Windsor and head to the casino/restaurants there.  I have no problem driving the streets of Detroit, or walking them for that matter.  I don’t fear downtown.  It is one of the things I love about Michigan. 

For the last few years, I’ve watched my home get a face lift.  I’ve seen the efforts thousands of people have put into making downtown beautiful again.  In truth, it has always had a special beauty – just not one most people seemed able to recognize.  Detroit has some incredible architecture, but you rarely hear about it, let alone have the chance to see it.  I hope as the fans walked Greektown that they took a moment to look up at some of the gorgeous buildings around them.  I hope they took a minute to recognize the history surrounding them. 

I’m angry at a city council and mayor who seem loathe to do what is best for our city, rather choosing what is best for their own pockets and the purses of friends.  I see them make foolish decisions which cost lives – god forbid you need the fire department.  It’s not because our fire fighters aren’t any good, they are incredible.  But they are desperately in need of equipment and instead, we’re slashing their budget.  Bad decisions all around.

I believe, however, we can change.  I think this weekend we caught a glimpse of the glory that can be Detroit.  We have this amazing river-front BORDER city!  Canada is just a short drive over (or under) the river.  And the river truly is beautiful whether it is private craft or barges traversing it.  Even those barges have a certain beauty to them.  We put on an incredible fireworks display in sisterly cooperation with Windsor, it is truly one of the best in the nation.  And now, we have successfully hosted a SuperBowl with grace and style.

The Detroit area has long been home to an enormous Middle Eastern population.  A woman in a hijab gets less notice than a man with a tattoo.  When 9/11 happened and the rest of the country seemed to be “looking for Arabs under every rock,” we were hand-in-hand with our Muslim neighbors grieving the deaths of our fellow Americans.  When we heard scary rumors and even more scary demands from political pundits and general nutcases to bring back the camps like we did to Japanese-Americans, many of us were figuring out how to hide our neighbors, or how to get them to safety if the need arose.  We knew the dark-skinned dark-haired men and women on our streets and in our stores and our schools were not the threat.  We knew they were our friends, just as much in need of protection as the rest of us.

That is the Detroit I know and love – and, I hope, the Detroit the rest of the world will come to know.  I’m proud of my city, my state, my neighbors, my friends.  I think they did one hell of a good job this weekend and in the weeks and months leading up to it.  I don’t care about the SuperBowl, I haven’t watched a football game since the Bears won in the 80’s and we all knew the words to the “SuperBowl Shuffle.”  I care about what the SuperBowl could mean for my city.

Detroit, ya done good, and this motorcity girl couldn’t be more proud to call you home.

Welcome Peter

We have a new “blogging buddy” to welcome and to add to our list – Peter O’Connell, author of the “Acts of Resistance” blog.  Our friend Kim Kim found him first, now we just need to drag him out to explore this wonderful circle of friends we’ve found here.  So pop on over to Peter’s Blog and introduce yourselves, invite him over to sit a spell on yours.  Most importantly, let this dear man know he is not alone.  After all, isn’t that something we all need to be reminded of from time to time?

Searching within self

My friend Wraith asked some very probing questions over on his blog tonight.  I thought I’d give the ones asked of adoptees some consideration and see where I’m at today.  I know my answers today are very different than they would have been a few months ago when I first started on this path.  By answering them today, I give myself an opportunity to look back at my responses in a few months and see what (if anything) has changed for me again.

Are you sure adoption hasn't had an impact?
If someone had asked me this a year ago, I probably would have insisted it did not.  I have always been uncomfortable with the idea of being defined by something which was outside of my immediate control.  I really had to learn that nothing can define me except “me” before I felt I could safely take out this thing called “adoption” and turn it over in my hands, examining it, looking at it, questioning who I wish to be in relation to this part of my life experience.  I read something early on where the author said that adoption is not a chronic condition, it is actually a one-time event.  I think I go back and forth on this one.  Adoption, in the truest sense, is a legal proceeding.  So is marriage and divorce and bankruptcy.  If I get married, it becomes part of my identity – “a married woman.”  But I can choose to become something else.  I can choose become “a divorced woman.”  Then I can choose to again become “a married woman.”  This actually describes the last 15 years of my life. Technically, I did not stop being a divorced woman even when I got married again – I am still divorced from my first husband.  I might go bankrupt one year, literally, through the courts.  A few years later, maybe I win the lottery.  Then I’m no longer bankrupt, but I was at one time and, in fact, for at least 7 years my credit report will say I was bankrupt.  So how much do those legal proceedings impact my identity?  How much do they define “who I am”?  I think the answer is, “only as much as I allow them to.”  Is it the same with adoption?  I would think so, but it sure seems hard to put that into practice.  Perhaps because I was so young when I “became” the thing we call adopted.  I don’t really know.  I do believe that I’ve been affected by my adoption.  What I don’t know is how much.

Are you sure you don't have any issues at all from adoption?
No, I’m not sure of that at all.  Then again, I’m not sure I do have issues specifically from adoption.  They might just as easily be the result of my childhood in general.  One thing I do know is that I’m not looking for something to “blame” for my issues.  At most, I’d like to find the root of them so I can work forward from there.  I don’t believe blame is necessary for that to happen.

Are you sure you don't want to search?
At one time in my life, I had no interest in searching.  Then I thought maybe I did.  I was in my very early 20’s.  Then I think I got talked out of it, mostly.  And for more years, figured I didn’t want to.  When I started this journey, I still wasn’t sure.  But now, what I actually think is that I was afraid to search.  Afraid of the answers I might find.  I turned that fear into denial.  I can’t do that anymore.  Searching and, in fact, finding has become extremely important to me now.

Are you sure you don't have anger or fear concerning your birth family?
No, I’m not sure.  I’ve always said I am more interested in finding my siblings than I am in finding my birth parents.  I think again, this is wrapped up in fear and probably in some buried resentment.  My siblings are “blameless” as it were.  They had no choice in these decisions just as I had no choice.  I don’t consciously feel anger towards my birth parents, but I can’t look at my attitudes objectively and say “there is no anger there.”  Because objectively, I think there probably is.

Do you understand that you are not alone?
I do now.  I felt very alone before I met my “blogging buddies” and those I’ve met from the group Wraith started.  I don’t feel that way now.

 

I'm having a bad day

Today isn’t a “feeling happy” day.  Perhaps it is the weather, maybe it is some of the sites I’ve been reading on, I honestly don’t know.  But I’m really feeling that void today.  There is this space in my heart where “mom” and “dad” and “brothers” and  “sisters” belong.  More space reserved for “granparents.”  Even more for “aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews.”  And though Wraith will come along and give me the kick in the pants I asked for, I feel like I have to make excuses for this empty feeling.  Go back a few sentences.  See where I wrote, “But I’m really feeling that void today”?  Want to know what that said before I erased it?

I miss my mommy.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t know her name or what she looks like.  It doesn’t matter that I have no conscious memory of meeting her.  It doesn’t even matter if she is a serial killer sitting in a jail somewhere.  I am missing the mommy I deserved to have by virtue of being born. 

Men might want to skip the next paragraph and go on to the next.  Or maybe skip the whole post – there’s girlie stuff in these here parts.

I got my period last night.  Now, this is hardly worth mentioning, except if you realize that I’m in premature menopause and have been for several years.  My period are extremely erratic and extremely heavy.  I was very young when I started and will apparently be very young (relatively speaking, no pun intended) when I stop.  Where are the women I can look to and say, “Is this normal for us?”  My doctor tells me this is genetic.  Well ducky.  But that doesn’t help me any.  It doesn’t give me the bevy of women I deserve to be able to look to and say, “What comes after this?  How will my body cope?  What do the women in our family do?”

Once in a while, I actually get a pimple at this time.  Do you realize that no one, no one ever taught me how to treat them?  Everything I know about pimples I learned from the internet.  I’m serious.

Last year I noticed that the skin on my forehead right between my eyebrows has started drying out a bit.  It flakes.  I asked a lady at a cosmetic counter why it happens and what to do about it.  She tried to sell me $300 worth of face creams and soaps.  I wasn’t buying.  Where are the women who are supposed to be there to tell me how to make it stop?

I don’t wear makeup.  Well I do, a few times a year.  My makeup collection consists of some eye liner, mascara and blush.  Oh, and a lip gloss and weird contraption which supposedly curls your eyelashes(???).  Don’t ask, I got told I needed one.  Do you know that no one ever taught me how to apply makeup?  I know there is something called foundation which is apparently how women get that nice even skin tone, but do I know how to choose it or how to put it on?  Nope, not a clue.  Where are the women who are supposed to be there to teach me how to put this stuff on?

 

Who is going to teach me to really take care of this mane of red hair I’ve been blessed with?  Do other women really use trial and error, switching shampoo and hair products every few months trying to find something that makes their hair look nice and smooth and sleek like everyone else’s hair seems to be?  Where are the women who are supposed to say, “here is how you care for Native American textured hair”? 

 

What about taking care of my nails, hands and feet?  You really don’t want to know how I figured out how tampons work, seriously.  I think my adoptive mother assumed I would learn all this through osmosis or something.  I’ve no idea.  What I do know is that she never sat me down at any time in my life and said, “This is what you need to know about…”  How in the hell do other women figure this stuff out?  I mean, someone must teach them, right?  I do not believe I was the only woman ever born without this knowledge.

I don’t know, maybe she figured she would teach me when I was older.  Well, she had the opportunity up until I was around 27.  How much older did I need to be?  Maybe I just didn’t show her I cared enough about it, I don’t know.  But now, I’m almost 35 years old, just a few months from now, halfway through the average lifespan of an American woman.  Am I old enough now?

Where are the women to teach me about OUR skin issues, OUR hair issues, OUR menstrual issues, OUR health issues, OUR genetics?

They’re out there, somewhere.  I wish they were here with me. 

I have 5 or 6 older brothers and sisters.  The concept of having big sisters is both a mystery and thrilling to me.  Will they take me in and teach me, understanding that I don’t know all these things yet?  Will they help me learn?  Will my mother serve as a road map, tracing the path before us, showing us the hidden pitfalls and the awe-inspiring vistas that await us?  I hope so.

I miss my mommy.

I am such a geek

No, seriously.  I’m a geek.  I don’t think you can spend much time looking at my blog or at my websites without seeing it.  I love computers.  I love everything to do with computers.  I’ve been teaching myself how to use computers (for most of my life) and the web (since the old BBS days) and every neat cool thing that has come along since.  I’ve self-taught myself how to write in multiple programming languages and have recently really enjoyed learning how to build nice websites using some of them.  This is why my blog about my life as an adoptee includes these little “asides” about creating a Google home page, the Linky Links list, making my own Word Cloud thingy, etc.  I really like doing stuff like that.

 

In my letter I asked the agency and the IARMIE to pass on to any member of my birth family who requests info regarding me, I mentioned my love of computers and all things computer-related.  I don’t know why, it was important to me to have them know I guess.  I often wonder if anyone else in my family loves computers like I do.  It is funny how something as simple as that makes us question.  When people ask why it bothers me to be adopted, that’s one of many things.  Imagine not even knowing something as basic as whether or not someone else you are related to shares your passion for something.  Wondering if you get that from someone else in your family, wondering if it is an inherited talent, something you share with someone else. 

 

I understand music on the same level I understand computers.  That, at least, I know I get from my birth father.  At least, that’s what my non-id says.  It is something tangible I know I share with another human being.  This of course makes me wonder if the two are somehow related – does a love of music translate into a love of computers for anyone else in my family?  I don’t know, but I hope to find out someday.

 

One of my kids and I share a mole.  It is a small thing, we’ve both had them since we were born in the exact same spot.  The moles are identical.  I remember the first time I noticed it.  He was just a few hours old and I was doing the “count the fingers count the toes” thing.  “10 fingers to hold – check.  10 toes to nibble on – check.  Little dimples – check.  Gorgeous red hair – check.  Beautiful eyes – check.  Ooooo!  Lookie here!  Mommy has that too!”  For me, it was one of “those” moments.  It is on-par with the day I was looking over pictures of him I’d had done around his first birthday.  I was flipping through the proofs, glanced up, and saw a picture of me from when I was about the same age.  You’d have been hard pressed to pick which one was me and which one was him.  All my kids look a great deal like me.  Apparently I have some pretty dominant genes.  Which of course makes me think I probably look a LOT like my birth family. 

 

For an adoptee, at least for this adoptee, those were extremely significant moments.  It is something which, I’m sorry, a non-adoptee cannot relate to no matter how much they think they can.  Though it fascinates me how many people try to dismiss this as important.  Of course it isn’t important to you – you’ve seen where your ears and eyes and nose all came from your entire life.  Nor is this important to all adoptees.  I’ve met a few to whom it simply doesn’t matter.  And that’s OK.  But their experience does not negate mine.  I get tired of the “it doesn’t bother me (or my child), so it shouldn’t bother you” argument.  Or worse, the “it isn’t a problem for me (or my child), so there’s no problem at all.”  Do they even realize that is as unreasonable as saying, “I like brussel sprouts so everyone should like them.”  Well gee, I don’t mind blood and guts – I can eat a 7 course meal which includes a hefty serving of blood sausage after picking up someone’s entrails off the road after a car accident.  Care to join me?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

 

Perhaps in the future I’ll start responding with things like, “Oh, your computer is acting up and you’d like me to look at it?  Well, gee, my computer isn’t acting up, so I guess there is no problem, huh?”

 

-bangs head-

 

The “not my child” argument bothers me more than anything.  I remember my adoptive mother telling her friend who was considering adopting, “Oh, no, it doesn’t bother the kids at all.  They know how lucky they are.”  She really believed that.  I was “the perfect child” ergo, no problem.  News flash – I would not have told my mother I had a problem if you had paid me to.  Now, maybe that’s because I was abused, I don’t know.  What I do know is that there are many other adoptees out there who did not have a childhood like mine – and they STILL would never tell their parents (even as adults) that they are having any issues with having been adopted or with their identity or anything else.  Why?  Because they fear on a very deep level that they will cause their parents pain.  My friend Bob talks about this in his book “Not Remembered, Never Forgotten.”  He is one of biggest advocates of adoptees seeking out their history, yet as he says in his book, he did not feel he could search until after his mom had passed.  He knew it would hurt her, so he put it off for years.  Unfortunately, he waited too long.  His birth mother had already died by the time he found her.  No child should have to go through that.  No adoptee should have to be so concerned about what their parents think that they miss out on the chance of learning everything they want to know about their origins.  You, as the parent, have a responsibility to your child – and part of that responsibility is not forcing them to be deprived of potentially life-saving information just to spare your feelings.  If you do not want to deal with your child possibly wanting to know where they came from, then adoption is probably not for you.  Save yourself (and the child) a lot of grief and work through your issues of jealousy or possessiveness before you bring a child into your life.  Don’t make them suffer for it.

 

Do I sound harsh?  Very likely.  But I am also a parent.  I know what it is to love your child more than life itself.  I know what it is to want that love returned.  But I also know what it is to be deprived of my history and to be told I have no right to it.  And you know what?  It sucks.

 

 

Run DMC: "My Adoption Story" Documentary

Please visit Wraith's blog for more information. This sounds like it will be well worth watching!

Linky List Part III

Ok, I had to make some changes to how I had the linkylist code laid out.

So here are the updated linky lists.

If you use the "Scribe" template (which means your blog looks similar to mine), please use this code.

If you use any other template (which applies to most of you), please use this code.

It is really important you use the right code, otherwise, you'll end up with images on your site which do not fit your template.

By the way, I've updated the code with new links, so you may want to replace your old copy with the new. I'm updating them pretty frequently, on almost a daily basis as I come across more blogs everyone is reading. If you take a minute to update your list about once a week, you should stay pretty current. Always feel free to remove a catagory or site you do NOT want to link to on your blog. There is no requirement here for you to link to everyone I do - I'm just trying to provide a good cross-section of resources.

If you have not read paragraphein's "Shatter"

Please do.

For the first time in years, I'm glad I'm not home

Do you know what this weekend is? It is the Superbowl. You know how the little "About Me" thing says "Northeast Ohio"? That's where I am, right this minute. But that's not home. Home is Michigan. Home is a few miles outside of Detroit. Where the Superbowl is being played in less than 48 hours. Where thousands upon thousands of partying football fans have converged. Usually, I miss home. I get pretty tired of living in hotels. I miss my neighborhood, my city, my state. I even miss Detroit. You really have to live here to understand that. LOL The rest of the country thinks we're a shithole with nothing to offer. But Detroit is great, and a lot better than Toledo. There's nothing to DO in Toledo.

But I'm really glad I'm not home this weekend. Our hotel is about 1 block off of one of the main highways that connects Michigan to the south. It was bumper to bumper last night, northbound. Hubby was late to work. It was bumper to bumper this morning, heading north. Hubby got home in record time - southbound lanes were all but empty. The hotel we're staying at? Booked, solid. And? And doors are banging, slamming, car alarms are going off, and already drunk party-goers are wandering the halls. It is 3:30 in the afternoon for god's sake. These people are checking in drunk. And how do you think they got here? They drove. They sure as hell didn't arrive on a bus.

Mind you, this hotel is almost 2 hours away from Detroit. Doesn't matter - booked solid. God forbid you needed to rent a car in Michigan or NE Ohio this weekend - cars were sold out nearly a year ago.

Based on days off rotations (2 days off every 21 days), my husband was supposed to be off this weekend. He volunteered to work so guys who actually care about the game can be off. Thank God I married a guy who wouldn't watch a football game if you held a gun to his head. I'd go insane.

Want to know how bad it is? I type extremely fast. EXTREMELY fast. In the time it took me to write this post, I've had to get up twice to answer my door and tell someone they had the wrong room.

It's going to be a long weekend. Maybe I can sleep Sunday while they're all at the game? Unless -gasp- they decide to sit in their warm hotel rooms and watch the game on TV? Please, don't let it be so. Oh, and by the way? We're about to get hit with a nice nasty ice and snow storm. 6 inches. I'm staying off the roads, I only wish my husband could as well. Thousands of people on the roads, drinking, and having no clue how to handle icy roads. Lovely.

Anyone far away from Detroit want a visitor for the weekend? LOL

Can you hear us now?

Our "blogging buddy" Kim Kim contacted Carrie Craft at adoption.about.com to tell her about some of the blogs we, the adoptees, have been maintaining. Carrie has some fabulous lists of blogs from across the plane, and has now added a list of adoptee blogs. You can see the list here. Don't forget to check out her Top 10 Placing/Birthparent Blogs list and her Top 10 Adoptive Parent Blogs list as well.

I made an observation on Kim Kim's blog that I find it interesting that most of us (adoptees) have only been blogging for a few short months. I find myself wondering if we are so quiet because we are perpetuating the shroud of secrecy which surrounds our origins. Now we're learning to speak up, and leaning on each other for support. I thought at one time that I didn't want anyone but me reading what I wrote on my blog - now I find that the little comments my new friends leave for me each day bring me great comfort. I'm glad my voice is being heard, and more than that, I'm glad it is being heard by people who GET it.

The more I think about it, the more I think there really is something to this idea that we are perpetuating the silence. When you look around the majority of adoption sites, the adoptees seem to be in the minority. It is almost as if we are afraid of coming together and connecting with each other, afraid of speaking, afraid someone might hear us.

Not any more. Not, at least, for this group of "blogging buddies." We are going to speak our truth, whatever that truth may be. No more silence. No more secrets. No more shame.

Can you hear us now?

Soul of Adoption Webring

So I'm not sure how many of you have noticed, but a few of us have been working on a new website. Soul of Adoption

It is still in the early stages of development, and I started another blog to update progress on the site.
Like I said, early stages.

Anyway, to go along with it, I started a "Soul of Adoption" webring. I know some of you are already members of the Blogging Birthmothers webring, and I certainly don't want you to load down your sidebars with more graphics & links. But I would like to invite you all to join the webring - even if you do NOT choose to display the webring links/logo. I personally don't care if it shows up on every site or not. I'm more interested in creating a really good list of blogs relating to adoption, not in "advertising" it.

If you want to join, just go here and put in your information. If you decide you want to add the code to your blog, just copy the code it gives you once you're done filling in the form and add it to your blog sidebar. If you need help with placement, let me know. I can walk you through putting it wherever you want. If you don't want to add the code now but change your mind later, let me know and I'll have the system email you the code. Any blog or personal site relating to adoption is welcome. Please, no business sites, ok?

"Siblings of Circumstances"

I am reading a book by my friend Bob - it is titled "Not Remembered, Never Forgotten." If you are able to, I highly suggest ordering a copy regardless of where you are on the adoptive plane. Bob expresses something on page 51 which I haven't been able to put into words. It really describes this "connection" I feel with so many of my "blogging buddies."

This material is, of course, copyrighted by the author, Robert Allan Hafetz. In the preceeding paragraphs, Bob is describing the support and connection he has encountered through an adoption support group and the individuals who, from seemingly out of nowhere, appeared to help him in his quest for knowledge about himself and his history.

The sense of commitment I felt from these people who share the same adoption experience was very powerful and comforting. As a result of this, I believe that every adopted child is the "sibling of circumstance" of every other adopted child. We who share the same thoughts and desires, ask the same questions, and search for the same answers to our common spiritual need, have become a family in our own right. "Siblings of circumstance," bound by the emptiness and the desire to end it.

I'll take that one step further and say that I see a very similar connection among the "Blogging Birthmoms" I've encountered. And even say that I feel a very similar almost familial connection with them.

Please do yourself a favor and order a copy of his book. I had gotten half-way through it last night, logged off this morning and sat down to read a few more chapters. I had to log back online so I could send a message to Bob expressing strong feelings about what I'd just read - and then felt I needed to come blog about it right this minute. I feel this need to share the power and beauty I've found in these pages. How ironic that when Bob and I first "met" I basically gave him the cold shoulder - not because of him, he's a great guy, but because of my own emotional walls and barricades. I'm so glad he stuck with me until I was able to let them down. (Thank you, Bob)

Ok, logging off now - I won't be putting the book down until I finish it. Funny thing is - I already know how it ends. But as I said in my note to Bob, I have been captured by the journey.

One of the other Forum Hosts from adoption.com and I are starting to get an adoptee/birthmom support group going here in NE Ohio (near Toledo). I think I'll order a few more copies of the book to hand out at our first meeting. Rarely do I like a book so much that I'm anxious to buy it for others!

"Word Clouds"

I don't know how many of you have checked out the very cool blogs I've linked to on the left, but I try and read them every day. I'm still catching up on some of the archived posts in them, but as I do so, I am just more and more inspired all the time. These are some VERY neat people!

Today, I was reading on "Crunchy Granola." If you haven't checked Susan's blog out yet, make sure you do. She and her partner Politica are raising a cool little girl she calls "Curious Girl." I love that! Anyway, Susan blogged about her "Word Cloud" a few days ago. I thought this was so very cool, I decided to make one for myself. These are actually intended for t-shirts you buy, which I'm not interested in doing right now. But when you visit their site, it "crawls" your blog and creates a Word Cloud for you based on words found in posts on your blog. So I had it do mine. I wasn't completely happy with the list it auto-generated, so I made a few changes, and then I kept a copy. Then I decided I was bored, and that I didn't want my "Word Cloud" to be two-color. So, I made my own! I just really liked the concept. I think I'll end up printing mine out and making a framed print of it. Maybe I'll do more of these over time and create a "wall of words" detailing different times in my life.

I really like words - words as art, even better.

So thanks Susan, for letting us know about "Word Clouds!" (And let me know if you want a full-color one for yourself - least I can do!)