Search others for their virtues, thyself for thy vices.
– Benjamin Franklin
I created this website because, frankly, in 2020 I will be 40 years old. You start thinking about things differently when you’re standing on the hill. This year during my mid-life crisis I have continued my modis operandis of filling up life with big decisions, and some of them will end up on my blog.
Ultimately I want to leave a digital footprint when I leave this earth to go with any other good stuff I manage to pull off by then, so I’ve started working to that end sooner rather than later. I have learned to walk softly upon the earth and give thanks, but I think it would be nice to have some say in how I meet the grim Eraser someday.
The One Thing is a good thing.
If anything I did one good thing repeatedly in my life – love my kids. I have three daughters and two sons. Some of them were born in my bedroom, all of them were nurtured by midwives, and misgivings aside, every single one of my babies drank milk from my boobs instead of cows. They survived, and I am quickly becoming the shortest member of my family.
So there’s that.
I think I’ve done a pretty good job of loving them to pieces, and last time I checked they seem to be pretty great little people, in tact and smiling, despite my mishaps, quirks, and failures along the way. They are getting drivers’ licenses and thinking about kissing, diversifying portfolios, and packing up to move away to the RW although I know they aren’t truly silly enough to do any of those things.
I am Adopted.
I am. Not past tense. I was adopted at 8 weeks old out of foster care through a closed domestic adoption. There are open adoptions in case you weren’t aware … but that’s not me. Closed. Sealed records. Mystery my whole life – woohooeyhoo.
But I don’t think of it as something I did – or was – something that happened to me.
I am adopted.
It is going to define me my entire life because I decided that not only did I make peace with it, but I have embraced the privilege of having a voice in history with my fellow cribmates. At this point I join the ranks of thousands of people who – like it or not – found ourselves on a shelf, in a book, within a pretty riveting chapter. We weren’t supposed to find out information that was conveniently removed from our table of contents, but,
“Uh oh!” we have. Pretty awkward.
Through DNA research my mother and father have embarked with me this year on a pretty phenomenal journey that has brought us closer together than ever, and I have a lot to share. It’s going to end up on my blog for starters. I have a pretty incredible mom and dad who loved me from the day they met me, and they are still supporting my efforts to make sense of the world and pursue happiness. We live in America, and that’s really important here.
Don’t worry. If you’re afraid that I’ll blow cover for two people who fear their personal privacy would be compromised, just know I’m not that stupid. Compassion is one of my most cherished personal values, and it is pretty much my compass for everything. But can we all just start thinking beyond our tiny narratives for a minute and consider that people have very real basic needs to know from whence they came? I think it’s a human right – the need to know more than that a penis and a vagina abracadabra’d you into existence. Good grief – a lot of people have an innate and persistent need to connect. You might be one of those considering that you are reading a blog in this moment.
Irons in the Fire
I always have a lot going on. Going through a divorce in my late 20’s with four children taught me how to sit on a low bar with a dose of perspective (and a jar of peanut butter). I became friendly toward trade offs and baby steps. My 30’s taught me how to balance and how to be strong, looking out for myself and showing up as my own champion. So basically I am now perfect and that’s all this blog is really about.
Please stay with me. I hope you will. Actually you probably won’t. (Adoptee abandonment issues.)
When I met my match five years ago jumping out of airplanes, we kissed and drank a lot, and we admired each other’s boxes of burned candles and made a human and a creative home of managed chaos together. It’s really challenging sometimes to be honest, but we work harder and try to love and do our best. We decide to get up every day, and, like a lot of Gen Y-ers, just carpe the diem out of life before we can’t any more.
We are busy, we love our children hard, and I have never been more socratic than I am right now. I LOVE my life. It is difficult, stained, and wrinkled, but it is full and I love that. I am going to love my life hard and the people in it until the day I die.
And this blog is going to somehow be part of that legacy.