Some months ago I was contacted by a twenty one year old young lady who asked if I had any suggestions in a direction to proceed if she was attempting to locate her biological family. She had read a few posts here on this blog about my own personal journey and how my personal search took place. She mentioned to me that I stated more than once that I would pass on my methods, recommendations, and free agencies that are available to the general public. We communicated much through email, then texting, and eventually over the phone. Then, out of the blue, everything just stopped cold, all communication between us ended, and we fell out of communication. I did wonder what happened, but I left it alone since I figured there was good reasons.
Until yesterday, the day when I got a fantastically wonderful and surprising email from her. She wanted to update me on what had been happening with her search. Before I get into the results I think, after I received her blessings, I need to tell her story. She has a story not unlike many, she found out she was adopted purely by accident, and it turned her entire world upside down as she had no idea to ever think she was adopted. I will begin her story from the point she found out at the age of nineteen.
She was on her way home from college to spend time over the holiday break with her mother who had become very ill over the prior year. Unfortunately, during her visit her mother passed away. After the funeral she tasked herself with clearing her mother’s house of personal belongings so the home could be put on the market. She had made arrangements for everything to be placed into storage after she had taken the time to box it all up neatly. She wasn’t really sure what to do with anything, so she figured storing it all would give her time to sort through her emotions first. After a few days of packing up the rest of the house it was time to start in her mother’s bedroom, a place specifically left until the end because she figured it would be the hardest for her. After countless hours in the room, folding clothes neatly, wrapping the breakables, and taking down pictures from the wall, she entered the closet to get it over with. Midway through the closet she sees a small metal box on the shelf above and when she gets it down she sees it is locked. She remembered there was a small key in her mother’s jewelry box and after digging it out she gave it a turn, and to her surprise it opened the lock. Now, she has never seen this box before so she was pretty excited. In the box there was a single legal sized envelope inside, nothing else, just the envelope. She struggled with the decision to open the envelope, as much as she wanted to open it she really understood the importance or secrecy, because, as it is, the sealed envelope was in a locked metal box on the top shelf in the closet under years stuff which secluded it nicely.
She set the box to the side, envelope remaining inside unopened, as she finished her task of packing. It has been an emotional so far since she found boxes upon boxes of memoirs of her entire life, she remembered most of the captured glimpses of time, so the emotions were grand and somewhat severe. That night she prepared a pallet to sleep on in the middle of all the boxes in the living room and decided it was time to get some rest. As she layed there she could see the metal box resting atop other packed boxes. Still wondering about the contents she sits the box in front of her on the floor. She opened the box. She again sees the envelope. But this time she opens it up, she removed the contents and placed them on the floor beside her, and now it is time to review the paperwork which much be very important information. The first letter was from an attorney, addressed to her parents. It was a message to inform them that their wait is finally over because a newborn girl was immediately available for their review and potential adoption. Enclosed was a picture of the newborn, she recognized the picture, why wouldn’t she, it was a picture of her. Needless to say she reviews all the documents, trying to process them mentally, and trying to find the sanity in the madness.
The following morning she started googling information, names, agencies, and in the crazy mix of it all landed right here on this very blog. She chooses to not leave any public comments on any of the posts she found dealing with my own adoption story. Instead, I get an email asking, and I will quote, “are you for real in your offer to exchange information about being adopted”? She said quite a bit more, asked a few more relevant questions, and then closed out the email. I replied to her, answering her questions and reassured her that I will share whatever I know. Soon enough, we exchanged 20 plus emails which evolved into texting which evolved into actual telephone conversations, there were even two occasions we did the Skype thing so I could physically show her a few online processes. As I mentioned earlier, our communication stopped abruptly, and I have been left wondering about her and her situation.
I got an email yesterday, it was from her, and she explained that she had some luck in her search but thinks she will put it all to rest because she was heading down a road she didn’t want to travel. She did, however, locate her biological grandfather, who was a disabled Marine veteran who now lives in a VA sponsored retirement home. To make a long, wonderful story short, he is her only surviving blood relative. I was asked not to share anymore than that, so I know it seems as if the story has taken a bad turn, but I assure y’all that after talking with her last night that just the opposite is true. This story isn’t actually over, there’s more, but I was asked to follow up with her in a few months when she goes on summer break, where, if I choose to do so (her words) I can write more in detail about her personal journey. I agreed.
I lead a super simple life, I like it this way, and I am very pleased that somewhere in the midst of all the different crap here that at least one person found something that happened to me personally to be useful or beneficial in some way. I just wrote about my life knowing that sometimes, not always, shit happens that you just have to deal with, being adopted is one of those times, one of those things, that a person can either roll with or fight, its all about your own perspective in life.
So, here we are in the year 2015. As I look back over, not just last year, but many years in the past, I have to wonder how I got this far in my life. I remember as a kid how each new year made me feel like I had been victorious over the prior year, I survived, I lived past even my own expectations, and I’m willing to do that shit all over again. In my opinion, with everything that happened to me personally and to my family in 2014 I can say, confidently, we survived. If all I can bitch about is the financial strain of unemployment then there is something to be said about that then. As we enter into 2015 I am reminded that we still are behind on some bills but at least I can pay them now and life will move forward for us.
Meanwhile, I did think I would not have control over these blogs because logging in has had its intermittent success and failures, there has been a couple days now of issues. Fortunately, those kinks have worked themselves out as I have not had the time to mess with it. At first, to tell y’all the truth, I wasn’t actually upset, I saw it as a clean break from, what seems to be, wasting everyone’s time, including my own. But, unfortunately for y’all I gave it a second thought and decided to give it one more year. Honestly, y’all haters have really began beating me down, breaking my spirit, and making me feel I really regret ever doing this little social experience. And then I realized, I still don’t give a fuck what the haters are bitching about. Plus, this blog isn’t about the numbers, it never has been about numbers, people come and people go, such as it falls in real life.
I did want to start the new year out defining an actual direction for this blog, a niche if you will, but so far I have decided to keep it in a shotgun style because it (this blog) isn’t about one simple idea, that’s boring, so there will be no format changes happening. Oh sure, I will add stuff and remove stuff here and there, but I doubt the once in a while reader will notice anything. Speaking of which, I have been trying to figure out why using the word FUCK is soooooo offensive, or why pussy is something that is never spoken out loud. Let’s let this year be different, please choose different things to be upset about besides pussy, titties, nudity, strippers, meat, the word fuck, or anything else that got your panties in a wad last year.
To quote a friend of mine, “it is what it is”, my blog isn’t for everyone, hell it might not be digestible by anyone, but I will continue to do with her as I please. For all of y’all choosing to continue to spend time with me, congratulations its going to be a banging year, for those of y’all who left or are leaving, hope my door doesn’t hit you in the ass. I may not be around as much now, but be assured I’m still watching y’all every day. Don’t fret my friends, tomorrow will always be another day.
I was trolling around the internet as I usually do, looking for things being discussed by others by reviewing forums, social media, and so forth. I like to check out what is out there at any particular moment because I don’t want to have my own information wrong if I’m wrong or step on any toes if I’m right. Well, okay, I don’t really care about stepping on toes but I do like to know the toes I’m stepping on in advance if possible. Of course, nowadays, I seem to be pissing everyone off with what I post. I had made the choice not to do anything really new until after the new year but I found something that “moved” me and now I want to talk about it. In reality, everything we post on the internet, no matter where it is posted, can be considered an “open letter” by pure definition. How so? We don’t ever know who will be reading it much less if the intended party(ies) will ever read it. I relate it to pissing into the wind, it might get on someone somewhere and then again it might not. Take my own blog for example, I take the time to write or do other posts, push publish, and wonder who stumbled across it by accident. Neither here nor there, when I write or post something it isn’t generally pointed in a specific direction, I call them shotgun blasts because it is unknown who will see or read them. It’s not like I have a dedicated audience waiting on the edge of their seat for what I will post next. Well, that’s not true, I have a handful of fans, aka The Scorpion Army, who always inform me that they are waiting for something. All I can say is that I’m sorry, life got busy for me.
Anyway, back to my trolling, because I read something that hit home with me simply because parts of it could’ve been written by me if I didn’t know any better. It was an open letter from a thirty four year man to his biological mother he had never known existed until recently, information passed to him by his mother as she lay dying from cancer in a hospital bed. She had the need to get something off her chest before she dies. After what he describes as being hours of apologetic talk from her she discloses that she isn’t his biological mother. She told him that hours after he was born that his biological mother was returned to the medical facility at the prison she was serving time in as she had been convicted of murder. His biological mother brutally murdered the man that had shot her husband, then carjacked her and kidnapped her, and raping her sixty seven times before leaving her for dead in an old abandoned house at the edge of town. She was sentenced 99 years in prison with no eligibility for parole. She had been serving only about a month of her sentence when he was born. She had no other information. Her and her husband had been on the adoption waiting list for an infant for several years when they were contacted that they could now move forward with an immediate adoption. For thirty four years his parents had buried this secret vowing to never disclose it to another living soul. But, she wanted to die with a clear conscious and the only way she felt she could do that was by telling her son the truth.
Amazingly enough, he explained that he really had no idea he was adopted, nor that he ever had a reason to consider or entertain the idea that he was adopted. To say the least, by reading his open letter to his biological mother, he was indeed more than just a little shocked by the turn of events. As a result, he wrote his biological mother a letter, knowing to himself it would go unanswered, but felt he needed to acknowledge her existence now that he knew she actually exists. I leave you now to read his letter.
Mother – Only you knew I existed. Only you were to bear the torture of not knowing. Only you knew the pain of our separation. We will never meet, I will never see you, nor you, I. Not because I don’t want to look into your eyes and weep with you but because there is no information of who you are, the only records available by the agency show Jane Doe gave birth to an un-named male child and nothing else. In reality I’m not sure why I write this letter to you today because I know you will never see it and even if you were to see this letter I doubt you would know it was to you. I regret the fact that we will never be reunited but at the same time we are both lucky because we do not know one another. I’m really not sure if I really need to meet you. I have lived my life, raised by gracious parents, and now raise my own family. There is no room for these twists and turns in my life and I don’t think there will ever be a good time for it. I’m sorry you will spend your life in prison because life is much too beautiful to live in a cage. I will close this by saying that I pray for you even though I don’t know you as we are connected by the bond of birth if you can understand that.
There are things I would like to tell GW but his life is none of my business. It is a great weight to bear being told something of this magnitude. What one chooses to do with it is a personal choice. Personally I think he is selling it all short, imagine never knowing who your biological family really is. I can say this will experience and authority as my older sister and I are both adopted. The difference is that I took the steps into the darkness, not knowing what to expect, and have made contact with my biologicals and to this day we talk regularly. Search this blog for adoption and y’all will find more than a couple entries. My older sister has a different mindset, she believes she was discarded and therefore has no wishes to ever make contact. If she knew that I have researched it all for her behind her back she might be a bit furious, but I wanted to use my personal experiences to help her. Although she would see it as me trying to sabotage her life. We will never agree on this topic and she has made it a forbidden topic to talk about. I hope, one day, she will change her mind, and when she does I hope she will ask for my help. I’m willing to help, I want to help, but it falls on deaf ears, which is sad for her. I leave y’all with a final question. What would you do if you found out one day that you were adopted? Or, if you were informed about being adopted what was your reaction and what have you done with that information since? I know, pretty personal issue, but I also know it helps to talk about the struggles and successes, even if it is with a perfect stranger.
When I was laid off back in February of this year it really stressed me out. I had probably one if the biggest “oh fuck” moments I think I ever had. I was in shock really, immediately my reaction was that I couldn’t go home with this information, I didn’t want to face my wife with my new employment status, it seemed to be an impossible feat with me imagining a very bad outcome. Panic set in, my palms began to sweat, I felt as if someone just pulled the plug on my only life support. My wife and I only talked about those fears last night after dinner, more than eight months later. According to my wife, she could see that I was “down”, not myself anymore, and she thought it was time to have a heart to heart conversation, just the two of us. For the most part, what I have talked about here on this blog has been a close mirror to the amount I have spoke with her. Why? I think I feared being judged by the one person it would hurt the most from, my wife. But, we talked, allot, for many hours, about many things, to include still looking for a job, our savings, paying the bills, money, and the fact that I needed to stretch $111.64 for groceries for the next two weeks. Yea, you read that right. Looking at the checking account is depressing for me, we bleed money, yet we are just paying bills, putting gas in the vehicles, and buying groceries.
Its odd, but looking for a job exhausts my energy each day, collectively I spend 10 hours a day in my efforts, usually for nothing to show for it. At this point I was at my end already, in fact last week I started, in person and online, putting in applications at local fast food places, restaurants, and even at Walmart. Desperation has set in, now I didn’t care to be picky, just pay me whatever to do whatever. Desperation sucks a big dick. In the darkness I was experiencing I received a phone call which the person inquired a reasonable amount of information from me. It led to a very informal impromptu meeting. It was an interview without being an interview. He gave me a great deal to think about, this was something very unexpected by me, and I spent the better part of this weekend dwelling on if that was it or would I get a call. It was a nerve racking weekend. I had to come here, repeatedly, to post to blow off steam, to relax my brain, and to get my mind on other less stressful things. On Sunday I made it unintentionally hard on my dad as we did a drive to Van, dropped a trailer full of stuff off and then turned right around to come back. I drove half assed oblivious to everything, including cars, the shitty weather, and of course the conversation he tried to strike up here and there. I was there physically but my mind was looking for a job, wondering about money, and who was paying for the gas. I’m worried, I can’t help it.
This morning I woke up after a shitty nights sleep and said fuck it, I’m taking the day off. I don’t want to screw with jobs or people today, I’m tired and I really don’t care. But, and this is an enormous but, while out running errands with my daughter, I got a call while I waited for her to get done with her college counseling interview. Her first semester “how are things going” type of interview. The phone call was an invitation to come have a second talk with the person I spoke with last week. This time it was to be a more serious talk. So, when we were done running errands, I took my daughter home, and headed for the meeting. The short story is I was very happy with the meeting, and later this week I will tell y’all why. I like to let the eggs actually hatch before counting them. Tonight, my wife will talk again, after we eat what I hope will be one of our last ramen noodle dinners. Ever been torn between excitement and fear? Its a sucky emotion as well. Its like being dead, watching your life go on but you are not participating, which I haven’t really, or at least I don’t think so. I will miss being Mr Mom I think, but having a great job will better suit me, and it will definitely help financially.
Anxiety is a bitch as well, but I have a feeling the next couple of days will fly by. I read a post on a fellow bloggers blog this morning about failure, how we treat failure, and how we are judged first by our failures before anything else. It made me remember that without failure we cannot know our success and that more often than not we don’t see the positives of having to start over sometimes. This morning I woke up feeling lifeless and only a spectator, this afternoon I see hope in my own recovery. At least now I can see beyond my own toe tag.
I have learned that life without color is still life.