January 1, 2018
When I started writing, I didn’t know why I had a desire
to put my emotions and words down on paper. I thought, I suppose, that it would
help me process what had happened, which it did. I thought it might also help
others who might have experienced similar things, and I’ve been assured by many
that it has.
I realize now that I needed to write for me—to connect to
a world that is much larger than I am.
I needed to document, for myself, what this journey has,
is, and will continue to be. That doesn’t mean I’m not glad it’s helpful to
others, but I need to do this for me.
I will go into more detail as I continue to write, but I
need to say first that last year was the most difficult of my life. Explaining
things, over and over again, to so many people, even those who’ve read the
blog, did drain me. Though, I think I might have been able to handle that if
that was the only difficulty.
What has been so hard to describe and what has been so
difficult to explain is something that I wasn’t truly understanding until now.
It’s pertinent to explain that I’ve spent my Winter Break visiting friends in
Colorado. And I’m also crying on an airplane as I write this. I think you’ll
understand why.
You see, the all-encompassing problem with my adoption
has never been my adoption. It was the reality check that finalized what I
hadn’t understood yet about my life and my family.
Finding out about my adoption forced me to see that what
was missing from my life is the concept of a home—like the kind where your
heart is. My home had been slowly eroding for years, because of a lack of real relationship
to anyone in my family (through both lack of relationships and/or distance)
which is apparently very common in adoptees. After I found out about my
mother’s affair, and knowing that I had very little closeness to my father,
when my parents finally officially divorced, and then sold the house I’d grown
up in, I didn’t understand how lonely I felt.
This is not a lonely of a bad night when things haven’t
gone correctly. This is the kind of bone-weary loneliness of someone who has no
one to lean on, should there be any kind of issue arise, other than himself.
The biggest lie I struggled with was the world in which I was raised not only
no longer existed, but it hadn’t really existed at all.
What do you do when all the things you’ve based your foundations
on are found out to be false?
And then what happens when you begin getting messages,
with varied frequency, telling you how you should feel, or what “really”
happened?
What happens when people you thought were always going to
be in your corner never even reach out to see if you’re ok?
I cannot tell you where I, or this story, will end up.
I’m a work in progress as much as everyone is. However, thanks to this trip
this holiday, I’ve suddenly had an epiphany.
You not only have to make your own happiness, you have to
make your own happiness a priority.
I’ll be honest—I like trying to do as many things
possible to make other people happy. I’m starting to slowly realize that this
has not made me happy, though I thought it would. This too is apparently
something adoptees do, consciously or subconsciously, because it’s a way of addressing
a constant fear that they might be taken away from the families and lives to
which they have found their place.
Thus, an overachiever, who has always struggled to say
no, who has worked his way through school since he was 14, has taken on more
and more responsibility in various aspects of his life because he thought he
had to, not necessarily because he wanted to.
For this reason, I have continually worked at the things
which I do for my career, which are the things that are predictable, and
therefore consistent in my life. In doing so, I’ve neglected finding a romantic
relationship, relying on my friend-family to feed the part of my soul which
needed love and support.
I have also realized that, though supported by others in many
ways, I’ve worked to make my own success happen more than I realized. So, now I
need to choose myself before I choose others, because I want to have my own
home, shared with someone who loves me, to build my own individual support
system.
Therefore, I’m writing this blog as a way to no longer
just document my story, but to keep me accountable to finding my own happiness.
One of those ways is to continue to share my story, so others can see there is
a light at the end of any tunnel.
But know that it helps when you realize that sometimes
the love you can’t find for yourself is in unexpected places, and being
welcomed as a cherished friend/adopted family member is all you need to begin
to right yourself. You just have to realize that love is there, and accept it.
Ultimately, the greatest lesson learned for me has been
that family is not about blood, it’s about those who we let in, and who let us
in. Like all things, family is what you make it. And I might not know where I
came from, and I might not have the same home-base that I grew up with, but I
have a family, and it’s bigger than I ever imagined.
And until the day that I have my own home, with my own
traditions, I know now that I have a family that loves me, and that is enough
to start me on a new path on this January 1st, which begins with
finding out what and who truly makes me happy.
Happy New Year.
