Reflections

In my last entry, I said I was going to use this blog to write about my upcoming book about being adopted, but I realized that I had other things I also want to write about, and that this is the best forum for whatever it is that comes up for me. A lot of what I have to say will be about writing, but some of it will be my observations and revelations about life, like paying attention to various people and situations events that cause me to react. Opportunities like this abound and most of them occur because of the way I felt growing up. When your birth mother doesn't want you and your adoptive parents don't really "get" you, the scars are deep.

So, yesterday, I went to my dance exercise class and ended up surrounded by a woman who can't keep the beat, a published author whose work I envy and admire, an older woman who is as quiet as a mouse, and horse woman--a tall, substantial woman with wild and frenetic energy that makes everyone take a few steps back to avoid becoming a target of her flailing arms and exaggerated movements. At one time or another all of the people who were surrounding me have triggered a negative response, and sometimes I just have to leave the class. Yesterday was different.

Yesterday, I realized each in her own way was reflecting a part of myself I haven't accepted. The woman who can't keep a beat reminds me that as a child I feared being different and would do anything to hide the fact that I walked to a different drummer. The quiet, older woman represents the side of me that is afraid to stand up for her convictions because she might offend someone and consequently lose them. Horse woman is her polar opposite--wild and crazy, out of control--how I am when I'm overwhelmed and frustrated, the part of me I'm ashamed of, that drives people away, the part that I try to suppress. Then there's the author--funny and smart, young and attractive--who brings up envy and my fear that I'm not good enough, that time has run out for me. In the past, standing near any of these people, would have put a damper on my experience, but yesterday, this realization made me smile. The universe was presenting one of its many lessons and miraculously, this time I got it!

A few months ago I completed an article for VietNow Magazine and when I got home from class it had arrived in the mail along with a note from the editor, Christian Nelson, who says, "You are a most excellent writer, and you have the feeling inside of you, so I hope you and I will work together in the future for a long time to come." Because a part of me doubts that I'm good enough, his words mean a lot to me This feeling comes from being given away at birth. Intellectually, I know this, but emotionally, a part of me is that infant being handed over.

Writing about being adopted has taken me on an emotional journey through the jagged terrain of fear, anger and grief and into the occasional vistas of love, self-acceptance, and empowerment.

For years, I didn't understand where my lack of faith in myself came from. One day I was invincible, like Superman/woman, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Other days, I felt like I was swimming in oil. Lately, I've been working on believing and trusting in myself, in others, and in some illusive divine plan. Christian is right--there is a part of me that is "a most excellent writer," especially when I'm writing about something I care about like helping veterans and their families heal from war trauma. And now, when I forget to believe in myself, I have the proof in writing--in his letter...and in the reflections that surround me.

Yesterday, I was Picasso's girl in the mirror, watching my reflections in the world. Today, I understand that those reflections are there to point me in the direction of feeling and healing.