GOOD NEWS!!

On May 10^th, 2015, at approximately 4 am, I finalized my search for my birth mother.

Today is June 2^nd, 2015.  The e-mail was sent at 9:51 this morning.  I received it at 3:41 this afternoon.

It was a strange morning.  I rarely check my e-mail as I wake up.  I rarely check my e-mail at all, only if I’m expecting something, and I wasn’t expecting this.

I have some GOOD NEWS!!

Good news indeed.  As each word registered, I pulled myself up to a sitting position.  My eyes awoke, becoming more alert.  I reached the bottom of the message, and started from the top again.  I carefully read each word, rereading sentences that were unclear, and forcing myself to take my time, lest I skip a crucial word and misinterpret the whole thing.

Her birth mother contacted us today!!!!!!

… I’m left speechless… Save for the shouting I did to wake my boyfriend and tell him the GOOD NEWS!!  She’s alive… She’s alive and she has contacted them, and they are contacting me.  This feels so surreal.  This must be a dream, but I was awake.  My boyfriend was awoken.  This was not a dream.

Her birth mother told me that she will write letter.

She’s going to write me a letter now?!  She’s alive, and she’s going to write me a letter.  She wants to say something to me.  The anticipation of this letter will plague my existence until the day it arrives.  I don’t even know how long it will take for the letter to arrive.  It took me almost a month to write my mother my letter.  It all came out at once, but in my head, scattered about, were mounds of crumpled up pages with half a letter here, and another half there.

Before this sentence, I could only think of the words as I read them and recited them.  Now, my head filled with questions about what comes next.

Can I write back again?

What will she say to me?

How long will this take? 

Will she send me a picture of her? 

Is she happy?

What’s her husband like?

….

…Calm down…

I spent the last three and a half weeks preparing for a year long wait.  I braced myself for the harshest of news.  I built a stronghold around my heart so it could not break under any circumstances… and now she wants to write me a letter.  A whole new journey has opened up for me.  And as I say to my friends, It’s good to have goals.

…

I could not have hoped for a better outcome, and to receive it today, after such an anxiety and self-hatred riddled yesterday, it is a blessing.  It was a sign.  I made selfish decisions for my own mental health, and did not feel guilty about them.  My heart prayed today without solid words or thoughts, but it was prayer nonetheless.  I cried with joy, in sobs that wrinkled my face and smoothed my soul.  Today was a blessing.

My future on this journey is uncertain.  And for my readers, if you are going through this as well, you are not alone.  Your family and friends may find it hard to understand.  You may know other adoptees who do not know your thirst for answers, knowledge, or understanding.  This is not a journey for anyone other than yourself, so do not keep their judgments with you.  You know what you are searching for, even if you can’t name it.  You feel what your heart feels, outside of words and expression.  And it is confusing.  This is a difficult journey…

… Just know, you’re not alone.

You have to read this…

You have to read this…

You have to…

You have to…

I hate that phrase.  I don’t have to do anything.  I don’t have to eat.  I don’t have to pay my bills.  I don’t have to work, or work hard at that.  I don’t have to be skinny.  I don’t have to be smart.  I don’t have to try.  I don’t have to stand up for myself.  I don’t…

… I don’t have to do anything except those automatic bodily reflexes that I have limited to no control over.  So I don’t have to do anything.  Hear that?!  I don’t have to do (nearly) a damn thing.

I could shout this from a roof top.  I could hijack all the digital signs, billboards, banners, and channels in the world to display this for all.  But it wouldn’t change the fact that I hear this phrase on a regular basis.  Maybe that’s because I go against the grain.  Or perhaps it’s the fact that I have a powerfully sensitive disposition, unlike most of the people I find in my company.  Although, if I was a gambling girl (which I am) I’d say it’s because people are too busy judging the actions of others and less occupied with their own.

I say this now, because for the first time, in a long while, I stood up for myself, and that’s saying something.  As the least confrontational person I know, this is out of my comfort zone, and it was not rewarding.  It has led to an anxiety attack, a point on my work record for leaving early, and a smaller paycheck (just in time for rent).  And all of this because I have to cover a certain position at my workplace… I have to be a shift lead to a shift that is not my own, that doesn’t accept me as their own… I have to hold my head up high and return to the position a second day, even though it brought me to shaking with tears the first three hours…

Excuse my language, but the only thing I have to do is say “fuck that”.

I’m saying this now because I’m tired of hearing it.  I’m tired of people telling me what I have to do.  I’m sorry if you weren’t aware, but you do not know what’s best for me.  You do not know the path that I’ve walked.  You do not know the struggles I’ve faced.  And as someone surviving everyday with anxiety, and most days depression, you do not know the pain and heartache that I can inflict on myself.  So don’t tell me what I have to do.

Stop.

Take a look at your own actions and words.  Think about what you have to do.  Think about what we all have to do.  Be kinder.  Love more.  Laugh more.  Share with friends.  Share with strangers.  Accept others (warts and all).  Celebrate differences.  Bond over similarities.  Be creative.  But what I think is most important, is stop trying to live the life of others.

You have to…

… do what’s best for you.

Freedom

As far back as I can remember, thoughts of the future caused me great anxiety.  I can recall crying to my father, fretting about not knowing what I wanted to be as an adult.  His stern voice told me that I had no right to be worrying about such a thing at eight years old, and I stopped my tears.  I did not stop worrying.

This pressure rose as did my grade level.  Each year a new assignment revolved around career goals or job shadows, interviews and presentations.  Each year my desired field would change.  Certainty finally struck my senior year in high school.  I will be a teacher.  I boasted the perks and nurtured my confidence.  I will be a math teacher… or an elementary teacher… or a music teacher… shit… I still had no idea.

Thankfully, this indecision is exactly what freshman year in college is for, according to everyone. If I were asked though, the indecision is what freshmen, sophomore, junior, junior hiatus, senior hiatus, and senior year are for.  In post-secondary accumulations, my transcript holds seven declared majors, five declared minors, four different schools, eight years enrolled, over 200 passing credit hours, over $60,000 in Federal student loans, and zero degrees.  My final degree choice, and the one declared the longest with the most complete transcript, was a BS in Psychology.  However, one week ago I finally realized the path I walked for so many years was not the path for me.

And just like that, it was as if the proverbial bulb lit up.  I knew more about my path than I had ever before.  As whole-heartedly as I desired to help others through psychology, I would never be truly unbiased.  My beliefs and experiences would outweigh my ability to council the individual or patient in a way best fit for them.  A part of my advice would always be self-centered.  Additionally, being barraged day-in and day-out by topics that resonate with my life and cause emotional pain would be more detrimental to my mental health than the joy of helping any number of people I could.

But before I came to this realization, I was lost.  Beyond lost, I felt hopeless and it began to affect my depression.  For so long, I had lived on the hopes of becoming a therapist or counselor.  I dreamed of one day being able to help children and young adults overcome the same adversities I faced.  After medically withdrawing from school, overwhelmed with my own mental health issues, I grew increasing less confident in my abilities to ever achieve my hopes. Once my anxiety over school waned, I began searching for ways to return.  Each time I tried, new and old obstacles arose.  Money, time, and even doubt stood in my way.  It was a battle between succumbing to, or overcoming my depression.

Recently, I was inspired by a dear friend to research returning to school.  We met as co-workers but our similarities drew us together as friends.  During our long nights working third shift, we would talk about our goals and encourage each other to achieve them.  Less than one month after a certain conversation, he enrolled in school become a writer.  The news elated me.  Overjoyed and filled with such excitement for his new journey, I decided to take another look at mine.  This is when I had my epiphany.

I placed too much pressure on the follow-through with my degree.  Between the money owed in federal student loans, the time wasted in nearly a decade of post secondary education, and the overwhelming feeling that I was disappointing my parents by not graduating; my anxiety over the situation began to mount.   However, this time something new happened.  I realized that this is not my way to helping others, that there is another way I can help others heal without sacrificing the value of my advice or the stability of my own mental health.

As depressing as it may seem, to no longer be striving for the goals you so long coveted, it instead, was liberating.  Free from the poorly laid path I told myself to walk, I was no longer lost.  For so many years I wandered the metaphorical forest, passing the same trees and tripping on the same roots.  Now, finally, I found my way.  This is not to say that every one person had a set path already laid by the Gods of Fate.  It is simply saying that of all the possibilities my future holds, this is not the one that will bring me happiness or fulfillment.

I may not know where my path is headed, but I can finally say, for once in nearly two decades…

I’m not worried, I’m free.