Reflections

Moving On

by Kim3 Comments on Moving On

It’s almost time for my birthday again. Last year, I wrote a post chock full of lessons I believed that I had learned. I mean, I had learned them to a short degree, but as with all things, lessons don’t ever end when you think they will.

It’s been a strange year. For the past several years, each year seems to present an entirely new set of issues or changes that are greater than the last. This year was no exception. I moved back from Germany, encountered my most severe heartbreak, moved back in with my parents, and met most of my biological family…and those were just the big moments of the year. So many little experiences have been scattered in between the big ones that there’s no way to keep track of them all.

If there’s been one major theme or lesson from the past year, it’s been “move on and learn what you and you alone want from life”. I took a huge leap moving to another country during year twenty-four, but it was an experience I had always wanted for myself. Moving back to the town I went to high school in, a town that I never had a single desire to live in ever again, was another huge leap, but it was almost more of a desperate flailing into something because I had no other option at the time. I have no hesitation in saying that it’s been a rough year (my parents will probably be first to agree). I’ve lived at home and had to rely on other to drive me around because I’m carless for the first time in my life.

I realize this probably sounds like a entire post of complaints, but I’m coming around to the other side soon, promise. Because of the difficulties, I’ve again been reminded how resilient I can be if necessary. I’ve been inspired more than ever to dig deep and make something of myself. I think there’s something to be said for hitting rock bottom, looking around, and getting smacked in the face with reality. This life, this empty existence in Tyler, TX with so many people who are content to live the day to day life with no direction in life, is not what I want. I want so much more than that. I want to live an exciting life filled with stories of experiences that actually mean something to the development of a person.

In regards to that severe heartbreak mentioned before: I’m so thankful that it happened. It’s funny…this exact time last year, I was down to single-digit days counting down to my trip to Alaska. I spent twelve days with a guy that I’ve known for most of my life (had a crush on for several years) and who I had spent the previous five months skyping with almost every single day. There was love there. He got me, understood the pain of being in an abusive relationship, and was just so good. However, I don’t think either one of us were healed from those abuses, and instead clung to each other as a salve and distraction instead of really dealing with the pain. For me, it was insecurities. For him, distrust. It ended abruptly, and I spiraled downward for quite some time.

That was eight months ago. Since then, as cheesy as it is, I’ve really been able to focus on who I am and what I want without having to think of another person. I love that kind of solitude. I love making decisions that are selfish. I get such a guilty conscience when making decisions if they involve someone else because I’m always so afraid that I’m not doing what they want. Being able to make plans solely for myself is such a foreign concept to me, but it’s incredible.

Meeting my birth family came at the perfect time. A time where I’m already focusing on getting to know myself. I feel like it was just so appropriate getting to see the family that I could have grown up with and seeing who I could have been in a different life. Honestly, it wasn’t all that different from the person I’ve started to become now, which was a great encouragement. The thoughts in my head, the desire in my heart..they make up who I am and aren’t just products of my surroundings. The contrast between the two families in my life couldn’t be more opposite. I’m going toward what I want despite of what I am immersed in.

So what’s next? I’ve got a week of being twenty-five left. A week where I’m solidly in my mid-twenties, where I’ve only lived a quarter of a century. I’m not sure what the next year will hold yet. I know an outline of what I want to happen: I want to feel more in control of my life, more put together. I want to finally create a foundation that I can build a solid life off of. Traveling and living overseas is still the final goal, but getting there is going to take more work that I’ve previously wanted to admit.

Cheers to twenty-five: the year that forced me to work hard.

Schooner Zodiac in in Bellingham, Washington - June 2015
Schooner Zodiac in in Bellingham, Washington – June 2015

listening to: eastmountainsouth

Adoption

Shared Genes

by KimLeave a Comment on Shared Genes

I think the strangest part of meeting anyone biologically related to you for the first time is noticing small characteristics that you share with them. While I think I look completely different than either one of my adoptive parents for obvious reasons, people tend to tell me my nose looks like my dad or my face shares similar qualities with my mom’s, probably because they think they’re complimenting my parents before they find out I’m adopted. I don’t see it. Maybe it’s a mental thing that prevents me from seeing any physical similarities, but I don’t think we look anything alike.

When I learned about genetics in seventh grade science class, one of our assignments was to take look at a list of physical characteristics that are caused by dominant or recessive genes and decide what traits we inherited from our parents. Small things like ear lobes, hair lines, and even eye and hair color don’t mean much to most people. For me, I hated assignments like that because no matter what I answered, it wouldn’t be accurate because I had no idea what traits I shared with the family I was genetically related to.

The same day I was writing and having slight panic attacks, I was overwhelmingly curious about what my birth mom would look like. I had been told all weekend that I looked very similar to her (even that I smelled like her- if that’s a thing), so I wanted to test those claims for myself. The only picture I had seen of her previously to this meeting was a photo from twenty-six years ago, so I was fully aware she wouldn’t look the same. Then there was her son.

I found out I had a half-brother when I found my birth mom over two years ago. With him being younger and not knowing about me, that was one part of the original story that I left out. I had sent some baby and toddler pictures to my mother when we first got in contact, and she said that he and I looked very much alike when we were young.

It’s always been a peculiar sort of thought- the idea that there are people somewhere out there who look like you. It’s even more peculiar actually coming face-to-face with those people for the first time. During the first meeting that I wrote about a few days ago, I kept searching my birth mom’s face when she wouldn’t notice, looking for any similarities we shared. We have the same cheekbones, and we have the same type of hair even though mine is much lighter. She had already told me that my eyes were very similar to my biological father’s, but I haven’t been able to see that for myself. I was able to notice the shared traits between her son and myself much easier, mostly just because I was able to compare that stage of my life to his twelve-year-old self. We share the same nose, the same lanky pre-teen frame, and similar facial expressions when we’re frustrated or our glasses are giving us trouble. It’s funny, the sense that you’re almost seeing a similar version to yourself moving around. It’s good, but it’s so strange at the same time.

Even though I know that looking like someone doesn’t automatically create a familial bond, I feel more put together having met them. There were so many questions I couldn’t even fully put into words, but they’ve been answered anyway. The sense of peace that’s swelled over me is the best thing that could have come out of this trip, so I’m continuously happy that I was stubborn enough to do this on my own.

Schooner Zodiac in in Bellingham, Washington - June 2015
Schooner Zodiac in in Bellingham, Washington – June 2015
Adoption

The Day Of

by Kim2 Comments on The Day Of

I’ve been getting let down quite a bit recently, so going into the birth mom experience, I just tried to keep all expectations at a minimum. I don’t do well with disappointment, so whenever I can avoid that specific experience, I do whatever necessary even if that means blocking out emotions. When people ask if my trip was everything I dreamed it was going to be, I don’t really have an answer. I tried to ignore any dream for so long that it’s impossible to say if the reunion met expectations.

The day of, my nerves were very evident. If there’s one thing I can say for certain involving the first meeting with my biological mother, nerves and adrenaline were involved. I spent several hours the morning of June 28th sitting at a table in front of a coffee shop in downtown Bellingham, Washington attempting to write down everything that was going through my head at the time. I knew that with the stress my mind was under, I would be unable to recall my thoughts after that first contact. This is a small excerpt from those hours:

“It’s today. In fact, it’s in a few hours. It is so soon. So unbelievable. So many questions will be answered and I don’t really know how to approach it at this point. It’s like my brain is frozen on the emotional front, and I want to figure out my feelings so badly without any idea on how to unfreeze everything.

Everyone I come across is asking if I’m excited. If I’m nervous. I should probably have an answer, but I don’t. I don’t know if I’m excited and/or nervous at this point. I guess I’m getting both of those emotions flooding in now thinking about it, which is why I haven’t really been making it a point to think about it.”

At this point, I had a minor emotional breakdown. There’s something to be said for journaling. If nothing else, it allows you to really access feeling and emotions that you are subconsciously suppressing, and it breaks down those walls you’ve put up. I’m lucky enough to have a friend who has been giving me any and all emotional support possible, so I called her as soon as the floodwaters started in my eyes. Honestly, I don’t know if I would have made it through last weekend without her. After asking her to just distract me, I got a handle on my nerves again and was able to continue writing a bit more.

Eventually, even writing was an emotional drain, so I packed up all of my stuff (three to four journals and countless pens, mostly) and walked back to my weekend home. At this point, all I wanted was a complete distraction from the day- a way to escape my mind. I tried to nap, that didn’t work, so I turned to the best option around: netflix.

I don’t remember the fifteen minute walk from my place to the restaurant much. In fact, I just remember small flashes of that walk. What I do remember is almost walking away from the restaurant as soon as I got to the door. My typical response is to run whenever things get uncomfortable, and there was nothing I wanted more than to bolt and forget the whole thing. However, I fought the urge and went inside.

That initial face to face look is something that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to properly put into words. It was one of those moments that would have been put into slow motion with dramatic music on in the background if it had been in a movie. And then I blurted out “I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to do here” which I suppose broke the ice, but it was just because I felt awkward and wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be comfortable enough for a hug, or just go in for a wave or handshake. I had never thought about what to do after walking in, so I just ended up being my usual awkward self and luckily it worked out.

The dinner went really well. I didn’t really know what to talk about or how to act or even what to do with my hands. I remember running to the bathroom at one point because I needed a breath of fresh air. I think I was pretty successful at keeping the look of overwhelmed panic off of my face, but my whole insides were all twisted up. It wasn’t that I was regretful of making the decision to meet her, but it’s just such a bizarre situation to be in that I was numb and a tangle of electric uncertainty all at once. Thankfully, we only spent a couple hours together mostly listening to my birth mom’s son talk about their trip driving from Idaho to Washington (yes, I technically have a half-brother which is incredible) and then we went our separate ways for the rest of the night.

I walked home in a fog. There are a few hours where I’m not completely sure what I was saying or where I was wandering around, but I ended up at home completely intact, so I didn’t get into too much trouble. I stayed up for a bit just sitting and thinking. I wish I had thought to break out my journal for that night, but I was in mental-processing mode and didn’t think to do much of anything.

I spent the whole next day with my birth mom and her son which was very rewarding and was much more comfortable than the previous night. I’ll hopefully get all of that written down in the next adoption post, but there’s still so much to think through. Overall, I’m so thankful I was able to have this experience. I’m proud of myself (which is something I never say) that I was strong and stubborn enough to do this trip on my own without any full-blown panic attacks. It was a giant leap in the right direction, and it’s something I’ll always be able to look back on with a new sense of calm in my heart.

Whatcom Falls National Park in Bellingham, Washington - June 2015
Whatcom Falls National Park in Bellingham, Washington – June 2015

listening to: Helen Stellar

Social Issues

Let Love Abound

by Kim2 Comments on Let Love Abound

I’ve somewhat written on this topic before, but in lieu of the various reactions I’ve been seeing all across social media after the recent marriage reform laws, I just feel like it’s important to voice my opinions yet again. After all, isn’t that what blogs are for?

Last week, the United States Supreme Court won a huge battle. They have finally legalized marriage no matter what your sexual orientation is, and I think it’s beautiful. Beautiful because it’s one more positive step in the direction away from discrimination and toward acceptance.

Before I go any further, I want to express that I do believe in God and freedom of religion. What I don’t believe in is the contradicting views many so-called Christians are expressing after this change in national law. When it comes to so many issues, people cry out “what about the separation of church and state? The government shouldn’t have any say over my religious freedoms!” However, when it comes to the government making a decision that might contradict their specific religious beliefs, they claim that they in no way can support these laws because they don’t abide by their religious teachings. What continues to baffle me is the 180° turn from their first argument. If you want the true separation of church and state, shouldn’t you then be willing to accept that the government may make decisions that don’t line up with your beliefs?

Aside from that hypocrisy and going straight back to the teachings of Jesus, the bible says time and time again that Christians are to love people as Christ loves the church. That is an unconditional love. That’s not a love that disappears if you love the same gender. That’s not a love that disappears if you get a divorce. That’s certainly not a love that disappears if you mess up. Christians, in case you’ve forgotten, Jesus was friends with sinners. He sought them out. He had dinner with a dishonest tax collector. He spent time with prostitutes. He chose to spend time with the unclean over the religious leaders. This was a man who loved people…period. There were no qualifications to meet or level of “righteousness” required.

Quite frankly, the amount of people who have been hating on this issue sicken me. A person doesn’t have to live a certain lifestyle to attain love. That’s preposterous. So again, I am making a plea to the Christian community: show love, express love, be love. Without that, we are not living any sort of life that represents faith.

Berliner Dom, Berlin, Germany - May 2014
Berliner Dom, Berlin, Germany – May 2014

listening to: Radiohead

Adoption

On Biology

by Kim4 Comments on On Biology

I’ve gotten mixed reviews about the idea of travelling to meet my biological family. On one hand, I’ve gotten support and encouragement from close friends because they know the stress I’ve been under and how badly I’ve always wanted this. On the other, I have people that aren’t nearly as close to the situation inserting their opinions. Of course, I realize that by sharing my story on social media, I’m just asking for opinions, both positive and negative, so that’s not the issue. The issue I want to address is the idea that by spending time and money to go visit my biological family, it somehow devalues my adoptive family.

I’ve heard “don’t forget who your real family is” more times than I can count this week. There’s the idea that it’s disrespectful to my parents heading out to meet part of my biological family. I know that even my parents felt a bit insecure with all my interest in my adoption when I was younger, probably because they were a bit worried that I might be more interested in my biological family than them.

I feel this is a huge issue with many adoptive families. They’re worried that they may not be good enough, that their child might feel more loving toward their birth family. To combat that, they shut down at questions about the child’s origin. For most of the adopted people I know, they don’t wish to be back with their biological family. Even for someone like me, who had incredibly difficult issues with my parents growing up, that’s not the case.

There are many people who know enough about their biological family to know that reuniting with them would be an emotionally unhealthy move. There was a history of abuse, they were stuck in the foster system, something negative to discourage any sort of reunion. But my story isn’t like that. My birth mother wasn’t some strung out addict. She wasn’t forced to give me up. Simply put, she loved me and was mature enough to realize that she couldn’t give me the life she wanted me to live. She was 24, at an age where many people are choosing to start having children, but she was still in college and my biological father wasn’t interested in parenthood. Someone who is that strong and cared that much about me is someone I very much want to meet.

So for those who know me personally, and for those who might have somehow stumbled upon this blog and have a similar story, I am not doing this to find another family. I’m not traveling halfway across the country to spite my family and make them feel like they weren’t good enough. I’m doing this because I want to get to know my birth family. I want to build a friendship with them. I’m doing this because of burning curiosity and questions I’ve experienced my entire life. I haven’t come across many people who are remotely as curious and constantly in my head as I am. Mostly, I’m doing this to thank my birth mother. Giving a child up has to be one of the most difficult things any person can do, and sacrificing any selfish desires she may have felt in order to provide me with a better life is an incredible gift.

Beluga Point, Alaska - August 2014
Beluga Point, Alaska – August 2014