Mar 162023
 

Well, it has been almost a week at home and there have definitely been some ups and downs. Thankfully, we are mostly on the ups side – literally and figuratively.

I was not fully prepared for the amount of energy it takes to move around with one useless limb. Plus, all my mental energy seems to be going toward healing rather than on more intellectual pursuits, which makes it hard to focus on writing, reading, or doing anything remotely productive.

Luckily, the weather has improved, so despite a bit of a chilly wind, I am able to sit outside to get some natural Vitamin D and try to return some color to my skin that was depleted from three weeks indoors.

Still, being a sort of burden to others is not something I excel at. I’m used to being independent and thought of as useful. However, just trying to change the sheets on our bed took me 30 minutes or more yesterday. Obviously, I did it out of choice and stubbornness more than anything else.

The doctor told me to stay mostly bed-bound with leg raised until we go in for a checkup tomorrow. The stitches and staples still need time to heal up. The physiotherapist told me to try to sit up more and get the blood flowing so that independence can be gained faster. Seemingly contradictory commands makes it hard to know what is the right thing to do. So, in the end, I listen to my own body and mind. I do mostly keep myself half-sitting up with the leg raised above my heart as I do not want to prolong the healing of the operated area from healing up. My physio will go faster and easier then. From my first two physio sessions, I think my body is doing a good job of making use of my healthy lifestyle and remaining strong, flexible, and agile.

Thus, overall, despite a bit of adjusting with the other member of the house on how to navigate my lack of movement with his own, it has been a good week. No matter, what it is better to have a view from my balcony than of the TV screen from a room of isolation.

Hopefully, the healing will be satisfactory after our doc visit tomorrow so that I can continue to make good progress back to the world of the walking!

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 102023
 
Pre-surgery

Well, two weeks later, it’s done.

I was gone from my room for over nine hours, and the docs said it took more than four hours to put my ankle back together through three insertion points. There was some talk of recreating ligaments and pulling of the skin, which explained the very uncomfortable pain I felt the next day.

However, two days later, I have yet to have any more pain medication and rocked my first crutches walk down the hallways. I imagine it is my determination to get home as soon as I can that is pushing me through.

The foot is still rather swollen – especially when it has been down a bit for a walk – and my blood pressure is low from lying on my back for 17 days, but there is hope on the horizon.

No specific dates or days can be given for recovery, but the next phase is a number of weeks with no weight-bearing activity. So, that means more time in bed, but in my own bed with a mix of sitting up, lowering the leg, and keeping it lifted, etc.

Overall, my spirits are good. I had one day straight after post-op when I questioned my sanity, but after a second day with less pain and doing nothing but watching, I felt motivated today to make more progress.

Will keep updated here on how things progress.

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 072023
 

Well, I did it! 🎉

Although I hadn’t expected this one to be my first book, I am not complaining. My dream of being a published author is now a reality, and it feels amazing!

Even though I’m not particularly a perfectionist, I do have doubts about how it will be received, but I start with a disclaimer that I know there is room for improvement. The main thing is that I actually started and completed a writing project for the first time – on my own. As in, no editor to push me forward.

The process was relatively smooth and with the help of a self-publishing company, it was easy enough to get it on Amazon. Right now, only the e-book is available, but the paper version is coming soon – probably this week.

Best of all, all profits go to me! 😅

So, I am now motivated to keep going with more in the series – it is meant to be a series. Also, I will keep working on my fiction book and other writing endeavors for publishing in magazines and the like.

Nothing like a little success to whet the appetite for more! Stay tuned!

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 032023
 

Upon returning from Venice, we woke the next morning preparing for M to go to the UK for a week to see family and do some business activities. I was looking forward to a week of my own schedule, time, activities. We soon were signaled that things might not go quite as smoothly, when we realized there was no hot water and assumed it was a boiler problem since there had been work on it and we had had trouble before.

First thing was first, M headed to the airport and would coordinate on the way.

The plumber/boiler guy came early in response to M’s request, but said, “Boiler is fine. You are out of gas.”

Oops! 😬

The gas guy said he wouldn’t be able to arrive until Tuesday – it was Monday, but fine. I could wait to have a shower until Tuesday afternoon and I don’t particularly care about cooking anyway – all I need is a microwave and kettle most of the time, especially when I’m on my own.

Tuesday morning, I felt good. I was getting into my own groove. I ran some errands in the morning expecting the gas guy to come around noon and I had a call at 5pm, before which I wanted to get some work done, walk the dogs, and then I could enjoy a relaxing evening with a hot bath.

Gas guy didn’t arrive until later in the afternoon, work took longer than usual so I was delayed walking the dogs, 5pm call got cancelled around 4pm. So, with everything finally done by 4:30 and faced with an extra hour to luxuriate sooner in a hot bath, I decided to just take the pups for a little walk in the fields and hills nearby rather than get in the car and drive down to the riverside paths 20 minutes, each way.

All of these little events and decisions led up to the moment when all other plans were thwarted for the hereafter.

While I do not sit – rather lay – blaming any one event nor lament “if this or that had or hadn’t happened, then…”, it is interesting to ponder how a series of actions can culminate at a particular moment. I’ve long been fascinated by stories like Magnolia, Crash – both film and series, and the like that point out how our lives intersect and events can have ripple effects on ourselves and others.

What if I had been on the call instead? I wouldn’t have fallen.

What if I had not been lazy in taking the dogs down to the river for a walk – I mean, I had the time? I wouldn’t have fallen.

What if we had not run out of gas, or the gas guy had arrived earlier, or I had not had focused on work for so long, etc. etc.? I wouldn’t have fallen.

But, I did fall.

So, rather than lament, I ponder. I wonder what the learning is in this new “plan” for my days and future few months. I wonder if the learning is solely for me. Or, if the learning is for M at my expense, as I sometimes have felt about other things gone wrong for me in my/our life. Or, as my dad said, “Sometimes sh*t just happens!”

In any case, it doesn’t matter really. I mean, I am learning about patience, regaining appreciation for the discipline of meditation, M’s capacity to be a caregiver, my capacity to be a receiver of care, the capacity of my friends (near and far) to care and express compassion, etc. etc. Much is being observed and processed. I’ve got lots of time to do so.

At least, I still have my fingers to type and my laptop to get some words out. My writing by hand is lagging, but when I can sit up again, I’ll get back to it. For now, I’m adapting. I’m accepting. I’m acknowledging the limits of what I can vs what I want to do.

One day, I’ll see how all of this does have meaning even if there is no obvious cause – synchronicity.

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 012023
 

Well, if you don’t follow me on social media, then you’ve missed the exciting news of me dislocating my ankle and breaking the leg bones surrounding the area. 🤪

It’s been 9 days now since it happened on a walk with the pups, who decided to take me with them on a scent-run. Only problem was that my legs could not keep up and apparently, my ankle was not in the flexible mood. 😬 So, after a few screams and choice words breathing through the pain, I managed to crawl to a signal with my phone to call a nearby friend and M in the UK who called the previous owner (L) of our house because he lives closer. With the help of L, I got an ambulance and taken to the ER at Orvieto Hospital.

Unfortunately, or fortunately 🤷🏽‍♀️, the orthopedic ward was closed due to C19, so I had to be transferred to another hospital, which was in Spoleto – almost 2 hours away. Before being transferred, they popped my ankle back in place – ouch! – and put on a temporary cast. I was told I was definitely going to need surgery. The fall happened just before 5pm, I arrived in Spoleto at 11pm with the belief that I would undergo surgery quickly.

Three days later, I had had no surgery, gotten a new cast that required a painful further adjustment of the ankle, been fed some interesting food, and no clear idea of what was happening. The doctor aggressively questioned me about where I wanted to have surgery – as if I should know that when I didn’t even know why it hadn’t happened yet!

In the end, we clarified that surgery had to wait and so I could get it done in Orvieto with a stay at home in the meantime. Happily, we checked out of there!

While on the road, I was informed that I should check into Orvieto the next morning for scheduled surgery on Tuesday.

However, the owner of the yoga studio I have been attending is an orthopedic physiotherapist and recommended a private clinic in Rome. She said I would get decent care through Orvieto, but the follow up care would be more challenging that I could avoid through the private clinic. So, luckily, I was able to speak with the doctor in Rome before we went to the hospital in the morning and decided to go with the private option instead. That was Saturday.

On Sunday, I checked in and here I am still as I write this post. The quality of care if excellent as I sit in my private room, have a small team of nurses, regular visits from the doctor(s) to check the status of my ankle – still no operation as swelling must be at a low before they feel it is optimal -, regular options of my menu, and that always desired yet never fully appreciated element of time.

My view these days…

So far, I have been keeping myself busy enough, though my positivity waxes and wanes more than at the start. Two weeks in hospital with another likely ahead does not make a happy and content me, but nothing else is to be done.

Instead, we now focus on new plans since most of what we had organized has changed. Even after surgery, I will be bed/sofa-bound for at least a month and then many more months of physiotherapy, etc. before it will be back to “normal”. So, it is one day at a time and literally, step-by-step.

Funny how life can change in a single moment, but alas that is for another post. Here’s to the new month and new plans ahead!

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 312022
 

I bet you’re wondering where I’m going with this after writing a bit of a ranty post a while back on etiquette?

This pop socket is on my phone and I love what it represents. Yep, let me explain….

I still standby the need for basic etiquette like saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. However, I do not standby political correctness nor the bubble-wrapping of words to avoid hurting people’s oversensitive feelings in today’s world. Words like ‘triggered’, ‘cancel culture’, ‘woke’, and ‘toxicity’ are words that I find to be inappropriately applied to avoid owning how we think and feel about the world to the point that now we are no longer allowed to express our true opinions to one another.

M and I were discussing the recent Oscar event and the presumed source of Mr. Smith’s actions. I’m not going to comment on my opinion about it, but we were talking about how M feels that Mrs. Smith seems to have a ‘toxic’ hold over him; thus, causing him to react as he did. I called BS on that.

First, we know absolutely NOTHING about these people in their true forms in real life. We learn snippets from interviews or the persona that they present to the world. I listened to a number of JPS’s Red Table Talk on Facebook Watch. This is ALL I know for sure. Therefore, it is definitely based on speculation on her possible personality that I (and M) make my comments.

With that disclaimer out of the way, I believe that JPS is a private person and is probably an introvert as well. M states that because she is in the public eye, she cannot be either of those things. I wholeheartedly disagree. He further claims that one should always express their opinions; otherwise, silence is consent. Another BS hand raised!

Now, for my side – it is my blog space, after all! 😜

I choose not to argue with others about my disagreement of their opinion – most of the time. This does not mean that I don’t have my own strong opinions. Anyone who has ever actually stopped to listen to me will realize that I have lots of opinions and they are just as strong as one who shares them all the time. However, I do not feel it worth my time nor energy to try to override others who want to make sure that everyone knows their opinion without bothering to stop and listen to an opposing one.

Furthermore, when I do express an opinion and bother to engage in a “discussion”, I expect to be heard. M referred to my idea of this as me giving a monologue rather than discussing. He might be right on that, BUT, I argue that if I am not allowed to give a monologue, then I am not heard. I prefer to write to express myself because the reader must focus on what I have to say and cannot interrupt me! 😁 As someone with a quiet voice, slow to process the words I want to articulate, and not prone to argument for arguments sake, this is a key element to having a “discussion” with me.

Lastly, if I do argue back, it is not meant to be taken as a dismissal of an opposing opinion. Rather, it is an activity in trying to push my theory/belief in full to find the flaws and holes in it so that I can then go back and reprocess, redefine, and refine what I believe based on new information and input. Arguing does not have to result in a fight. Instead, the old art form of debating is how I see my way of dialoging with the world.

So, in doing discussion and opinion forming in my way, I need to maintain the mantra of F*CK Politeness, because being polite suggests that I agree or that I consent to something which may not actually be the case. Still, know that I will always maintain my ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s’!

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 292022
 

Oh the sniffing, the sneezing!
Thankfully, I’m not yet wheezing.

It’s that time of year
when being outside causes fear.

How long can I last
before the final pollen is cast?

I try to stay upbeat
never wanting to admit defeat.

But, alas, I cannot keep up the fight
as my puffy eyes decrease my sight.

I cannot pretend anymore it is funny
that my nose is always runny.

So, it’s back inside I go
losing again to nature – my greatest foe!

😜

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 232022
 

Yesterday, I participated in an interview for someone doing research on the adoptee diaspora and was struck by a few thoughts stimulated by her questions. One of them is around my concept of ‘home’, which is a recurring question in my mind.

Coincidentally, or not, I had just been talking to my brother for an hour before this interview. It’s the second time this year and already twice as many times as previous years have been in keeping up with him.

My brother and I are very very different people. Still, I love him. I accept him for who he is, and I know that I have not always been the best sister to him over the years as I often focus on my own perspective and experiences in the world. However, as we both age, I recognize how short life is and that he is my family forever, which is important to me. So, this year, I have decided to make more of an effort to catch up with him, but it is, admittedly, a work in progress for me.

Therefore, when I was asked how I define ‘home’ 🏠, I paused.

Home is not a place for me. As in, I rarely refer to Oregon as my home. I do not identify with the State or region much. In fact, I would say that I try not to define myself as a Pacific Northwesterner since I despise the rainy ☔️, cold 🥶, and grey ☁️ weather that it is the trademark of the area. Also, as I find myself having lived longer outside of the US than I have in it, I even wonder at calling myself ‘American’ 🇺🇸. Further than that, I am also definitely not ‘Korean’ 🇰🇷 other than the make up of my DNA. So, while I claim American citizenship and Korean heritage, they are not home either.

Ultimately, my cynical self cringes at this but, “home is where the heart is”.

My home is where my parents and my family are. 💛 My home is where my husband is. ❤️ My home is where my friends are. 💜 My home is where I have given pieces of my heart. 💛 ❤️ 💜

I used to say that ‘home is where my stuff is’, but the softening of my protected heart has led me to admit that it really is where I have a connection to the people in it. Perhaps this is why I have never really had an attachment to a house or space that I live in or that I feel comfortable traveling around the world.

Still, when we got married, M and I agreed that we were ready to have a ‘home base’ where we could return to together while maintaining our lifestyle exploring new places together. So, our home 🏡 is currently in Italy, but I will, hopefully, be visiting my home soon this summer to see my family and friends in Oregon.

Maybe instead of thinking that “the world is my oyster”, I can rebrand it as “the world is my home”! 😜

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 212022
 

I love to travel. It seems like an obvious thing to say as an expat, but there are expats who live abroad and see the world and there are expats who live abroad as they would in their home countries. I am of the former. 

Despite this love of travel, I detest the process of getting from destination to destination, especially by air. Even before C19 forced a return to isolationist practices and more careful attention to cleanliness, I was not a fan of the security checks, lines for boarding, and sharing of seat or public ‘germy’ 🦠 spaces. 

After having been off flying for about a year and a half, I took my first flight last month on a short visit to Malta 🇲🇹. Even after a hiatus, my habit of falling asleep before the plane had even taken off was fully in form. It has been a laughed about trait of mine, as a family tale that most have been impressed with – an enviable gift to be able to quickly fall asleep on any moving form of transportation. 

Yet, as age sets in and I become more mindful of the impact of my surroundings and past experiences on my psyche, I think I have discovered why my mind and body reboots. 

Ever since reading Susan Cain’s book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, I have proudly accepted and worn the badge with raised hands – I am an introvert; almost to an extreme. Also, I have accepted that I am greatly impacted by others’ energies, seeing auras in shades of light. Therefore, thrusting me into a small space where sounds abound and strange energies swarm causes an input overload for me. Thus, I feel the need to fall asleep. It’s as if my brain says “nope, cannot process, rebooting now!” 

As a test of this, on our recent flight ✈️ from The Netherlands 🇳🇱, I put on my AirPods with noise cancellation mode on and magically, I didn’t feel the need to sleep as the plane started taxing on the runway. The blocking out of sounds and keeping my eyes averted from the energies around me prevented the usual overload so that I did not feel an urge to shutdown. 

While I still enjoy a good nap on a plane or being able to catch a few z’s 😴 during travel, I am also feeling more prepared to re-enter the world as it starts to return to a new sense of normal armed with newly acknowledged tricks up my sleeve to be able to interact again with hopefully a bit less stress and anxiety about being amongst others. 😜

~T 🔥🐉♋️

Mar 172022
 

I have just written my second attempt to request information from my first adoptive father. This time, I hand-wrote a letter to send in the regular post. I tried an email address that I found online since post is a bit delayed and sporadic these days; however, after no response and no idea if it is even the right email address, I thought I would go old-school.

Let me provide an update on how this has come about:

Thanks to TUA, I came across someone who offered to look at my Korean paperwork after I told her my story. In her review of them, she found that it seemed I had a somewhat private adoption and that my first adoptive family had been in Korea at the time of my adoption. Initially, it seemed that my first-adoptive-father (FAF) worked for or with the embassy, but recent information suggests that was not actually the case. Anyway, what is clear is that FAF was in-country for some of the official procedures as he is noted on papers relinquishing me from my birth mother directly to him rather than an orphanage or foster home.

This revelation put my mom’s researching/stalking skills into motion in tracking down FAF and others in the family.

As my mom has got major skillz, it didn’t take long for her to reach out to a few people in the original family and to confirm that she had found the right persons-in-question. After a conversation, she asked that FAF reach out to answer my questions on the process of preparing me for immigration to the US and if he did actually have contact with my B-mother.

While it seems that there was some family drama and struggles in the period of time that I was in the family, I do not care as I have little-to-no memories of my time with them. I realize it is probably harsh to say that “I do not care”, but it is the truth. How can I care about people or a time that I cannot remember?

Still, as much as I try to remain unemotional or detached from the situation, I have to admit that I find myself fighting a sensation of irritation and possibly anger. It is not anger for the fact that they brought me to the US nor that they relinquished me back into a system that temporarily did not treat me well. It is not even anger for a promise that was not kept.

It is anger, frustration, irritation that once again they/he is choosing to be selfish at my expense. He has answers that would make my search easier or possibly lead me on the right path toward discovering my origins. In a way, I feel that it is the least that he can do to make up for the consequences of his actions that I was required to experience. I feel that he should be mature enough and man enough to get over his own emotions or issues surrounding what happened to simply provide me with the facts that he knows and can share.

At the same time, I struggle with a niggling feeling of guilt that I should feel entitled, frustrated/angry, or even the desire to pursue such answers. Often, I question what are my intentions or desired outcomes with my search. I mean, I don’t necessarily want a familial relationship with anyone I find connected by DNA. I also do not feel there is a piece of me missing or empty that I am trying to fill in. So, then it is fair to ask, ‘what is it all for?’.

Honestly, I do not know.

Part of it is curiosity. I love a good mystery story. Part of it is for the story. I’m writing my book after all and always need more sources of storyline. Part of it is purely selfish. I just want to know. Part of it is just natural. Doesn’t every person want to or deserve the right to know where they came from?

So, while I truly and honestly believe that it is not about defining me or finding myself, I acknowledge that the answer to the WHY is complex and a rainbow of colored reasons – possibly with some yet to surface.

In any case, I have warned him that the email and my letter are not the last he will hear of me now that the search is on. It is not a threat so much as a promise that I will not so easily be removed, forgotten, or pushed aside this time….

~T 🔥🐉♋️

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