One Year Later...

As I sit on my couch this Labor Day weekend, it’s so hard to believe that it’s already been a year since this journey began. One year ago, today, I read a letter from Xena Williams that impacted and changed my life forever.

So much has happened, and as I continue to share my experience, I think you’ll understand why I needed a bit of a break from writing about my journey. Time truly does offer a better perspective of many things.

I spent a portion of this evening rereading my original posts, and realized it had been over eight months since I last wrote anything and posted it. I have much more to share—I promise. Life gets in the way, and since it was between performing my duties so I can live and eat, or writing the blog, I chose the former.

To those of you who have been asking and waiting for the next post, thank you for your patience. I will begin regularly posting again soon.

To whoever Xena is—know that the most asked question I get is still “Who is Xena?” I have to say, I’m more than a little curious… so if you’re willing to come forward, on or off the record, I’d like to thank you for what you’ve done. It has changed my life for the better.

As I think you’ll see as I continue to write (and you continue to read), I needed the past eight months to more fully absorb and unpack all that has happened. It’s no easy task to explore who you are and from where you’ve come while trying to live your life. Frankly, I also have needed the time to understand the impact of many of the details, events, and experiences I’ve uncovered over the past year.

However, there are a few things to share here…

• First, finding out things about yourself and your family you never really wanted to know is difficult, but finding out the truth is invaluable… and also mystifying.
• I now understand why the holiday season can be experienced as a month of devastation, even if you’re invited to wonderful friend’s celebrations.
• When finding out life-altering information about yourself, you will eventually lose the desire to shout “I’m adopted!” at strangers when walking down the street. I’m living in that space now. It’s called growth.
• My friends are, hands down, some of the most wonderful, loyal, kind, supportive, and amazing people on earth. Full stop.

For tonight, that’s all. But know that I’ve appreciated the love, kindness, and support from so many of you. Thank you all. It’s made this journey more bearable.

Additionally, there are a few of you who have reached out after either sharing the blog with others, or after having the blog suggested to you by a friend. The fact that anyone has read this is mind-boggling to me, but it’s also extremely humbling. Furthermore, if this has actually helped or impacted anyone (and I’ve been told by more than a few that it has helped or influenced someone they know), I cannot express the words to explain how that has made me feel, and it is the reason I feel the need to continue writing my story.

So, again, thank you for reading. There’s plenty more to come.

First Day of School

In the process of writing and publishing, then traveling for the weekend for a wedding, and everything generally moving at the speed of light, it hadn’t occurred to me that my co-workers, many of whom are also friends on social media, would see and be reading my posts.

            I feel that it’s important to reiterate that I’m an extrovert by nature, and not afraid of people or public situations. Given my union activism, it would prove difficult to speak to officials and lobby for education if I were. I will often read a situation before responding, but when I do, I tend to speak my mind—about educational issues.

As for my personal life, and the events that occur outside of school, I don’t share much with people I only consider colleagues. In terms of my personal life, I prefer to be well into the shadows, out of the line of sight. Given the past few years, and all the awkwardness with my mom and dad’s divorce, then the insanity with my mother’s love life, a painful breakup with an ex last year for me, I don’t feel the need to share with everyone what’s going on with me for good reason.

Additionally, there have been times when at the lunch table where conversations have drifted toward questions about LGBTQ+ issues, and, as the resident member of that community, I’m the default spokesperson. While there have been moments of genuine interest or concern for me, I’ve also seen people literally shut off, turn away, or disengage when I speak about what it’s like to be gay. Or when I talk about going on a date. Or, if I speak about anything that involves something which makes them uncomfortable, which, as it turns out, is a large swath of my personal life.

That judgement is why I don’t love talking about my personal life or areas that overlap with my personal life with people with whom I am not close.

            Therefore, walking into school Monday was difficult. Again, I struggled with the idea that people were staring at me. But, the students didn’t know what was going on. And I walked into my room without anyone around. I was being paranoid.

            Except this time I wasn’t.

            I started my morning routine and walked into the teacher’s planning area. It felt as if everyone who was there stopped what they were doing and started staring at me. Some weren’t. But some were.

            And then began the conversations...

“Oh, I read your blog…”

“That’s so crazy!”

“What’s going on? What blog?”

So, first thing on Monday morning, I had to recount everything I knew about my current situation with work colleagues I largely don’t see outside of the building once I leave for the day.

It would be rude of me not to acknowledge that everyone who spoke to me mostly did so in a way that shared concern for my situation, and not entirely out of probing for lurid details about my life. Mostly.

Like much of this experience, knowing that people cared was comforting, even if I did have to articulate my pain a few hundred times. Ok. It wasn’t a hundred—it just felt like it.

At least I wasn’t entirely crazy for thinking people were looking at me anymore.

Getting into my typical daily routine was also helpful, and teaching was a welcoming distraction. Students would learn, and I would teach them, and that part of my life would progress as normal.

And then lunch came.

I was dreading it. Stuck in close-quarters, with no escape from people who would want to talk about it. Except, no one did, as the people I eat lunch with who I’m also connected to on social media were absent that day.  No one knew…yet. Small mercies.

I made it through the day. It was going to be ok.

Day two had fewer comments from co-workers, and I began to feel that I would be able to revert to some sense of normalcy.

Until I got to lunch.

            I walked in and saw a mostly full table, which meant everyone who typically came to eat lunch was present. I heated up my food in the microwave, and sat down. I was taking my first bite when my coworkers finished speaking about something. And then it began.

            “Jonathan… Wow. Just wow. How crazy to be going through all of this!”

            Now, more than ever, it felt as if a spotlight had zeroed in on me.  There was nowhere to hide, no corner to slink into.

            “Uh… Yeah. It’s all pretty crazy.”

            There’s no way I didn’t look like a deer in headlights; I certainly felt like one.

            So, naturally, those who I’m not connected to via social media started asking the obvious question… What’s up?

            Such a little question. Yet, obviously so loaded.

            I couldn’t ignore it, so I did what I’ve been doing in all of this—I met it head on and began to explain.

            Everyone was naturally dumbfounded and offered their support and concern, but I’ve never felt more naked or exposed in my life. To not only have colleagues know something so intimate about you, but to be placed in a precarious position by being prompted to tell them—it was beyond difficult.

I was still wrapping my head around the insanity of my situation, so to try to casually discuss my life with people I solely see within the confines of the school building, and then act calm, cavalier even, about my adoption was almost more than I could handle. I wanted to scream at them, to lash out, but that’s not fair.

Then again, what part of this process has been fair?

I would like to again point out that I know that my co-workers are, overall, kind and are sympathetic to my situation. These people, especially, were shocked and genuinely amazed at what I’d discovered.  I do not blame anyone for their desire to know about my situation, given that I’m also publishing it online. I’m continually reminded about how many people are showing caring, at least in their way. However, this lunch still taught/reminded me of two things.

First, I am not someone who enjoys pity. I enjoy comfort, or support, or sympathy, or empathy to something I’m going through. I do not enjoy having someone look at me and, with a slight smarminess, ask me “How’s it going?” knowing full-well that nothing for me is going well, and implying that everything for the person asking is fantastic. It’s rude and unkind. Every one of us has struggles; some people’s struggles just are bigger than yours some days. It doesn’t mean that you are above anyone else because tomorrow might be the day your karma is checked.

Second, I have also learned to be careful about when I ask anyone about something personal, lest I inadvertently overwhelm or hurt them with my attempt to show concern. Compassion, as well as tact, I continue to find, are things in short supply these days, and are often overlooked because of good intentions to offer sympathy, whether real or feigned.

After I divulged my story, I inhaled my lunch (gotta love the 25 minute lunch breaks of a teacher, especially when in this case I was left with about ten…), and returned to class, my fears revived that everyone was staring at the new adoptee, because after that spotlight session, they were.

A few deep breaths, and I reminded myself….

I’m fine.  It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Maybe one day soon, I won’t just have to pretend that this mantra was true.