Hey friend hey! While many of us are still in holiday recovery mode, some are also looking ahead to resolutions and goal setting for the coming year. I am in the middle. I could seriously use a nap right this instance. Instead, I am working and mulling over my word for the 2019. I have shared with friends that my word for 2018 was REIGNITE. I chose it after analyzing the year 2016 when I let many things that I loved, fall to the wayside due to the busyness of life and a bout with depression (a little transparency here). I found myself primarily doing the things that I HAD to do to survive. Those things kept me busy but not fulfilled. When I selected REIGNITE after attending a class in 2017, it caused me to take action in a way that I hadn’t before. Continue reading Stoked In 2019
She laughed, pulling
deeply from within
A sling shot catapulting
from the pits of
her bosom and belly
I knew it would be good
by the blowback
She hurled: You are
an adopted bitch.
I laughed myself into a fit of tears.
Drowned and gasped for air
Realized my naked
before sinking again purposely
to block the echo,
resounding and forever
etched in my soul.
A geyser boiling long and
well after the
punchline crash landed
and the closing of the main drape.
I’ve been contemplating this whole New Years thing, reading the resolves (cheering for those who make them) and I’ve come to accept that for ME it is simply another day to move forward, beyond that which I’ve already accomplished, in the amount of time I have left on the planet. That’s what keeps me moving–>The idea that there is much to do
and the unknowing of how much time I have left
to do it. I have not a moment to waste. I never want to be the one looking back… wishing I had focused more on LIVING. The older I get, the more I contemplate this.
While some are just considering- I am learning, loving, giving and pressing toward what makes me happy hoping THAT inspires others. After all THINGS will always be there… THINGS can eventually become someone else’s… But LIFE, the experiences that come with and what you do with them.. they will always be Yours alone… Just as MINE will remain mine. That’s plenty to take into the next day. An entire year will be icing on the cake.
Happy Tuesday y’all!
I was asked by an agency that aided in the fight for Adoptees to gain access to original birth certificates in Ohio, to compose an update on my experience after getting my own this year. I thought I’d share my post with a few additions here:
As it is my birthday and the first day of spring, March 20 has always been a symbolic date for me. It speaks of new beginnings, warmer temperatures, the return of sunshine and the subsequent melting of ice and snow from the streets of Columbus, Ohio. In 2015, I received yet another layer of newness- the release of original birth certificates for all adoptees born in this great state. I am adopted. I used to have trouble saying it out loud. The shame, the secrecy and the jokes about being adopted made it nearly impossible for me to share that side of my life with but a few close ones. I am still healing from the suppressed hurt of being relinquished. But I AM healing and that is the good part. The changes to unseal records in Ohio were a huge part of that healing and a long time coming. I wasn’t sure it would ever happen in my life time.
The excitement had been building since the announcement the year before. A year-long waiting period was created to allow birth mothers time and opportunity to block the release of their information. Having been in reunion since November, 2004 I had no idea if my birth mother Jo would be one of those mothers. I visited her in California in early March. The subject did not come up even once as we overlooked the gray skies of Manhattan Beach nor when we conversed poolside at my hotel. Once again, she made promises that she could not keep. I recorded them so that I would remember they were not a figment of my imagination. I needed that too as part of my healing.
I went to Vital Statistics with great anticipation to begin the process when I returned from LA. The media was there interviewing others. I wished they could interview us all. All of our stories are unique and interesting. We had all waited for the day; some of us for decades. It was interesting to see so many “regular” people of multiple ethnicities, men, women, young and old. When I walked back out into the warmth of the sunlight after submitting my request- I felt at peace knowing another part of my journey as an adoptee was coming to a close.
My birth certificate arrived about 30 days later. My heart skipped a beat when it arrived in the mail. I waited til evening to open it at my dining room table to finally read it. The sun once again shone on my back, comforting me. I opened it, and was relieved to find she hadn’t blocked it as I had read happened to others (a total of 16 in Ohio). I felt a little numb as I read the documentation that showed my true origins and my given name (Gloria Marie). I told my close friends and they celebrated with me via text… wished me closure. I noted some parts were wrong. My birth father’s name was not listed but he was stated to be white. That made me laugh. I know him and he is far from. Some of my adoption paperwork was included- items I’m sure my adoptive mother no longer has. I plan to send a copy to her and to my biological mother.
Jo and I have had a rocky reunion. It has been hot and cold but mostly cold. Perhaps stagnant is a better word. Together we are a still body of water with potential to move should the wind ever blow this way or that. I have come to a place of peace with our status. She sometimes sends me texts from sunny California saying “your life matters”. The good news is that I already know this. I live my life on purpose with each day and year I remain on the planet. The better news is that on paper- I am real just like every one else I know. I am not made up. I exist and I have the paperwork to prove it.
After months of being in a rut with my natural hair (no desire to style it or anything!), I went into a local salon and asked an old friend and sister to cut my hair like a picture I’d found on Facebook. She used to keep my hair tight when I wore it short years ago. I’d sent her a pic a week prior asking if she would cut it. She asked if I was sure and told me I should think about it. She promptly stopped communicating with me for several days! Haha!! I knew that she really wanted me to think about it and so I pondered over it heavily for several days before we spoke again. I had limited availability so when during our next text message, she said I could come on Wednesday on my lunch hour, I said “yes”. Yet, on Wednesday, I almost backed out. My son pleaded with me to keep my long hair. He shared that my journey inspired him to have a love for natural hair (that’s great, I did my job!). At some point I phoned a friend expressing my hesitation and she called me a “punk”. Thanks a lot Rhonda!
I thought theleast I could do was show up at the salon and chat with my old friend. I sat in the chair and after asking if I was sure- she shaved the left side. I used my iPhone to glance at myself having reached the ultimate, point of no return. As she rinsed color from the hair of another client, I thought about changing my mind and leaving with my undercut. In the end, she and I got through the ordeal which seemed more painful to her than to me. Ultimately, I left a happy camper experiencing ZERO regret. I did not allow negative thoughts to talk me out of my plan. I allowed change to happen and I felt better for it.
See… you probably thought this post was about hair. Perhaps you even experienced some anxiety on my behalf, or negative feelings toward a change I wanted to make within myself. If you had encountered me during the process, you might have talked me out of it. I might have allowed your opinion to change mine. Or- you might have applauded my efforts. Either way, the important thing is this- CHANGE CAN BE GOOD. WITHOUT IT- WE ARE STILL THE SAME OLD DOLLAR BILL. We have to be willing to change parts of ourselves without hesitation or dependent on the opinions of others. This one is for my good. Today, I’m walking around feeling like a shiny, new quarter ready to be spent! I feel very capable of making decisions for myself after having given my ideas lots of thought. I have long fashioned my processing after the sculpted “Thinker” figure my mother kept atop the mantle of my childhood. The key is to allow change to happen gracefully, moving yourself and others out of the way. Take time to understand the associated risk and the pay off! That’s what I did with a simple decision about a haircut. I weighed the pros and cons. The cons were minimal. The worst that could happen didn’t outweigh the best that could replace them. I can’t stop smiling at myself in the mirror. I feel bold and as my girl Kisha said, I have “balls” for just doing it on a whim before I could change my own, or allow others to change my mind. I’ve begun to see things around me more clearly since I let go of that old hair; allowing the journey of others to inspire change in me… to get ME moving in a myriad of ways I’ll share later. I got to thinking about the things I’ve been neglecting, the loss of my time due to work and other obligations and how my true passions have been neglected.Just like my hair, I needed to change… to figure out how to make a dollar out of 15 cents (as I sang in my childhood. I now know what that means!). I’m working on that and have made an effort to change the way I go about spending my time. I am wearing my physical and mental change in thought on the inside and it is reflecting on the outside. That brings me to exactly how we should see change- as something to review, ACCEPT but DON’T DWELL on the hard parts (ex: for me- I will need to go to the barber/salon more!), FIND the good (no more long styling sessions!), and EMBRACE only the good aspects. That’s a good revelation for me. And to think it all started with a simple haircut. But this… today.. ain’t about hair. 😀
~Peace and Love Always