Since holiday decorations πare considered to be acceptable until the 7th of January, I am borrowing that acceptance when it comes to reflecting and planning for the upcoming year. π
Our Christmas decorations actually came down on the 1st due to our live tree π²dropping needles and our guests packing up to return to their home in France. It just felt like the right time to pack it all away after a very warm and successful celebration in our new home. π
Still, due to visitors, I did not quite have my usual period of reflecting π§, acknowledging π€, appreciating ππ½ and planning π€. Thus, I am using this first week to do these activities as I’m also still on ‘holiday mode’ for TUA – though there is always some background work going on.
The first part – reflecting – can be seen in viewing my one-second-a-day video where I did my best to take pictures each day of something that we were doing or even not doing. There are a lot of cat photos where I probably just showed appreciation for the sweetness that is in a sleeping kitty.
Overall, it was a wonderful year. We really did a lot when we look back on all our activity. Obviously, moving to Italy and moving in to our dream house are the highlights, but the friendships we forged and the experiences we had are not to be forgotten nor undervalued in looking back and – acknowledging – the year gone by.
Furthermore, I have much to appreciate and plan for the new year (next post). So, though we had some last minute bumps as we closed out the old year, I look back on 2021 as one of sunshine βοΈ and smiles π!
Relationships always have ups and downs, whether romantic or platonic. I value my relationships as treasures and gifts that can never be replaced, because – well – they can’t.
Whether or not one believes in God or a higher being, it shouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination nor acceptance to acknowledge that people come in and out of our lives for a reason. Sometimes these reasons are to teach us something, sometimes it is to teach them something, sometimes it is out of convenience, sometimes it is for forever; always it has meaning.
M and I have observed/are observing a few marriages/romantic relationships struggling and it is a sad process to watch.
Having had our own relationship demises, we discuss how and why connections seem to go wrong. I love this aspect of M because he reflects, processes, and adjusts himself to ensure that mistakes aren’t repeated to jeopardize the strength of his relationships.
Likewise, I do the same.
Also, I stand fast to the belief that we need to communicate more. So many people want to poo-poo the fact that feelings are talked about or dismiss the need to get things off our chests. However, I maintain that, aside from the outrageous consumption of sugar and other chemicals, the reason cancer runs rampant is because we hold on to the darkness of thoughts, energy, and feelings. While we may not be able to control environmental impacts on our health and quality of life, we can most definitely control our consumption, exposure, and expression.
M, being British, sometimes justifies that culturally English people do not speak so much of feelings and that therapy is an American concept.
I argue that while that may be true, and generationally it doesn’t matter the country/culture, it doesn’t make it right or healthy. I’m not saying that we should talk about every single emotion or thought that passes through our minds/hearts. I AM saying that we should talk about what we hold onto that doesn’t serve us in creating lightness in our lives. Holding grudges, becoming bitter, mumbling and grumbling are not necessary to life. They are indeed a fact of life, but we are not required to hold on to them or let them perpetuate until they grow into dark cancerous bits that take hold of our souls.
This is not to say, either, that we should run away from the problems that come up including another human being – especially one that we are committed to (legally or not). This is the modern-day response to “removing negative influences” in our lives. Nothing is gained from running away either. Working on the relationship and then agreeing to walk away or one realizing that it is detrimental to their life to stay is not considered running way, but being wise in severing that connection for their well-being.
For me, my greatest learning in life has been communicating what is in my heart and mind. I do not have verbal diarrhea, and I do not walk around with my heart on my sleeve. However, I think I can proudly claim that I do speak my mind when I feel that it is important to do so.
M and I have a fairly healthy way of sharing with each other moments of annoyances (before it escalates to a fight), requests to avoid projecting our own issues on each other, or a need for some temporary space to process what we need before sharing or discussing it with each other. When we fight, which is not that often, we do it fiercely but we come back later to rationally explain and listen to each other’s points of views. We may choose to agree to disagree, but we respectfully acknowledge the other’s side. We also agreed very early on in our marriage that we would never ever throw out the “D” word in arguments nor even joke on it as an option because it begins to fray the binds that connect us and we do not want to do that – ever.
So often after we discuss with people who are struggling and we share with each other what was said – we do tell each other EVERYTHING – it almost always boils down to the fact that they don’t communicate nor listen to their partners. Imagine what healing and positivity could arise if they were able to communicate, listen, and be heard?
Life drives meaning and purpose from these two simple actions: listening and speaking. These can be done aurally or in writing. Still, they must be done. In doing them, we learn about each other, we gain respect for one another, and most importantly, we come to understand others and ourselves better.
M is a December child, so we generally try to respect his birthday as separate to the holiday season.
However, in recent years, he seems to be more into the Christmas spirit than his birthday – aside from his 50th last year – perhaps aging is less desirable the older he gets? π€·π½ββοΈ This year, one reason for an early start has been because we are excited about the new house and we love that we can decorate to our hearts’ content for the holidays.
We started with this…
In fact, M wanted to potentially decorate straight after Thanksgiving, but we both agreed to wait until December 1st. We started with our gonks/gnomes and it was rather exciting for me to decorate a mantel as that is like a real adulting thing in my brain. π
Once the first came around, though, we were off to get a real tree π² since previous years usually involve a fake tree, which isn’t so bad, but the smell of pine in the house does add to the spirit of the season.
Waiting for Santa’s visit
It’s not quite what I’m used to, but we bought ornaments adding to what we got lost year and have made it look festive! π
Now it looks like this…
Our mantel/fireside now looks like this, though I’m not yet done with decorating it!! We have friends coming for Christmas, so obviously we needed more stocking 𧦠hooks, which are just the best invention ever! π
As a bonus to our decorating and completing of the living room, our made-to-order sofa came when we were putting up the ornaments, so now the room is looking fully festive!
It’s getting there!
So, although the decorating is not yet done – there is still 17 days left after all – we are having a grand time preparing for a joyful season ahead!
Last year, I sort of skipped my usual month-long period of reflection and envisioning what the next year will look like for me. For the world, 2020 will be a year remembered as when our concept of normal started to be redefined.
Looking back, 2021 has been an even better year than 2020 for me/us.
We managed to nearly finish our Italian residency (when that is done – with card in hand – I will update on that). We have agreed to purchase a new house that we love and has all kinds of positive energy in it that I barely notice that I either haven’t stepped outside all day or left the property in days. π The Universal Asian platform has evolved, rebranded and continues to grow such that I am confident that it is on the verge of bursting into a money-making venture. Friendships have grown, been lost, and depended upon. M and I are still strong together despite a few up and down days, but our love continues to flow. My health is in good condition and I am overall satisfied with my exercise πͺπ½ and weight.
So, not a bad year upon reflection and my mental health wheel of life seems to be evenly balanced. Therefore, it is time to expand the diameter of it for greater fullness.
One area that I am planning on focusing 2022 on is in my writing βοΈ . I’m tired of my own claims to want to write a novel and not having anything to show for it. I’m tired of making excuses for why I don’t or can’t write. Therefore, as I type this post, I am sitting in a cafe as the beginning of my commitment to make weekly writing dates away from the house, on my own, and refusing to give in to other distractions that present themselves on my phone, in my inbox, or wherever. It’s no easy task, but it is necessary. I know I have read enough books π on what I need to do now that it is time to put into action and create results!
Along with this, I am going to make a concerted effort to finish my book coaching course that I started in November 2020. Although I mostly started it for my own benefit to understand what it takes to consider writing a book, I also feel that it is something that I can do on the side over time.
One might think that running the platform is plenty, and in most ways it is, but I intend to build it up to the point that it can run itself or become an entity on its own. So, while TUA is a passion project, it is not enough fulfillment of my creative side. Therefore, I want to spend 2022 giving more attention to who I am as a creative, a writer, and somewhat quirky human. π€ͺ
It’s my favorite holiday to celebrate π. Ever since I found myself settled in a home and the first time we all gathered as a family for the holiday, I have associated Thanksgiving with food, laughter, and community.
I remember that we went around the table saying something we were thankful for and I made everyone laugh when I said “I’m thankful for a family”. I suppose that it took the concept of having family and being able to sit around a table together to a different level. π₯°
As an adult, I haven’t spent many Thanksgivings with my family since I have chosen to live abroad, but I have always made it a point to celebrate with friends and others around me even if they aren’t American. There is something special about putting in the time and effort to bring people together, break bread, and enjoy each other’s company.
While it is no secret that I am no lover of the kitchen as I tend to avoid having to stand in front of the stove for too long, Thanksgiving is one of two exceptions a year. Usually, it takes me about two days of preparations, but I take my time and enjoy the process. M has even declared that he hasn’t had any better turkey than mine because I talk to it, give it lots of oil, butter, and orange juice baths, and encourage it while in the oven with regular basting sessions. π
Last year, we didn’t really do a proper celebration as I didn’t know how to get a turkey in France and we were in lockdown, so friends couldn’t come over anyway. It was a depressing day for me since I love to make the day special.
So, this year, we made up for it! First, we had to move our 4 meter table π inside with the help of the table-maker and his wife, who also joined us in making sure the celebrations were in full swing. We had this piece built for our outdoor terrace, but as we are also waiting on the indoor dining table, we decided to bring this indoors due to colder weather, which fit beautifully in our big dining/living room space. Then, I gathered foliage from our new property to put in our centerpieces, which turned out lovely, if I do say so myself. After that, it was time to set the table with our new dishes from a Bolsena pottery shop.
In the kitchen, I made cream of mushroom soup from scratch to go with the broccoli-cauliflower π₯¦ bake dish. We ate soup for two meals as well since I didn’t have much time to stop and eat. π Then, I made cornbread for the stuffing. I attempted to make bread rolls, but the yeast and flour situation is still something I need to figure out with more practice, so those were a big fail, but I chose to ignore them! π The end of the first day preparations were the two pies: apple and pumpkin π₯§. Some years, I make pumpkin filling from scratch, but as I was able to source all the American ingredients this year, I did it the proper USA πΊπΈ way! I also tried a new Apple Pie recipe, which turned out really tasty; if only I could remember which one it is now….π€
The second day started with getting the stuffing ready to go for the turkey π¦. While it was cooking, I rinsed the big bird and thanked it for its service. On a side note, I managed to pre-order, converse and pick up this amazing turkey from a local butcher in Italian! Go me!! πͺπ½Anyway, the first bath is always an olive oil rub and then it sits for a bit as I prepare bath two. The second bath is usually a butter bath with tons of spices – thyme, rosemary, sage, salt, pepper, paprika, etc. I sometimes use a toothpick to poke little holes through the skin so all that goodness gets soaked in and under. Again, it sits to soak it up. Bath three is usually an orange one – fresh orange squeezed all over. A final drizzle of oil again usually rounds it off before adding the stuffing to prepare for the oven. I baste the turkey every 30 to 40 minutes. The first couple of rounds usually is with olive oil as not much juice is out yet, but then I use the juice once there is some. Each basting comes with positive words of encouragement to cook well and be tasty. π
In Japan, we borrowed my BFF’s turkey roaster oven, which is an amazing invention. I looked for one here, but it seems to be an American invention that doesn’t quite work with the electricity here. So, I tried to use the bags, but the turkey was too big for that. Thus, in the end, I made an aluminium foil casing, which worked pretty well. I have to say it was one of the moistest and best tasting turkeys we’ve had!
I also had mashed potatoes, cream corn, sides of pickles, olives and cranberry sauce, which are a must. We couldn’t find any sweet potatoes so skipped that since I don’t particularly love that dish anyway.
All in all, it was plenty of food, though not too much despite M’s initial assumptions. π€ͺI have boiled down the turkey bones for broth and extra bits to make soup and pot pie later.
So, another successful Thanksgiving in the books. I don’t care that its origins are questionable and I dislike that people rename it Friendsgiving. There is no need to change something that is perfectly stated – giving thanks to all those in my life, near or far.
For the TUA platform, we have had a few events that share the creative works of others. As I experience the events, I find myself envious of the community and the expression of their work.
As a child, I desperately wanted to share my stories and searched for others to hear my words. Yet, I never really did. My mother would read my stories and critique for grammar or flow, but if she actually understood my words, I didn’t know. My father would read my stories from school and though he might have appreciated the content, I think he didn’t see the point of my wanting to write. They are not to blame, by any means. However, if I had had a community of adoptees or other Asians with whom we could share our creative energy, I would have pursued such a path more vehemently.
Instead, it has always been a hobby to write poems or stories. I’ve had a few pieces published in actual print and I have contributed to online publications before starting TUA. However, despite my desires to make writing my main focus, I have not. M claims that perhaps it is not really a passion or dream of mine to write since I have not yet done it. It’s true, there really is nothing stopping me and I do have the time, for the most part.
Yet, I do not write.
But, I am a writer.
Still, I do not write what I should write.
However, I do write on my blog, in my journal on a daily basis, stories now and then, for my writing group when inclined.
So, where or what is the problem?
I blame time. I blame distractions. I blame the platform. I blame my husband. I blame…myself. I blame…fear. I blame the what-ifs.
They say that we have to create a habit and a routine. I keep saying that I can’t or don’t need to. They write. I only do sometimes. Perhaps it is time for me to finally push aside my stubbornness and admit they are ‘write’ and I am not. Though I like to forge my own way in life, there is something to be said for the proven track record of others – they can’t all be wrong, can they?
Yet, I recall never having to stay up all night to write academic papers because the way that I write was not like my peers. So, while ALL of my peers pulled all-nighters to finish a paper, I wrote mine during the day in a matter of hours because I had put most of it together in my head. I also brew on topics and stories in my head before they ever hit the keyboard/pen to paper. Then, I sit and “vomit” it out. Still, there must be a balance because I do know that the creativity aspect is not being accessed regularly. I know that I could write more. I know that I could have more polished and powerful pieces than I do.
Thus, all this circling in my brain is to say, I have creativity envy. I admit it. I don’t like it and so I shall take some space to consider, adjust, and reconfigure how I remove the envy and join the community more actively. π
When is it oversharing and when is it providing the story behind or into someoneβs world?Β
Wanting fame and fortune has always been an aspiration of mankind. History shares stories of the rise and fall of individuals and civilizations based on this desire. People have lied, cheated, and even killed for notoriety. However, is it possible to have a more altruistic approach to rising in reputation?
Recently, I made my Instagram account private. Although I completely understand that the nature of social media is to publicize aspects of my life that I voluntarily put out there, I also have an inner desire to control, to some degree, who gets access to what I choose to put out there.
As an educator, I always tried to ensure that my students could not easily access my personal social media profiles. Even still, my Facebook account remains hidden unless we have a friend in common, and who my friends are remains hidden. However, I never really had a problem with Instagram until the numbers began to increase for The Universal Asian.
The positive is that the numbers are increasing enough that there is interest in who I am. Although my name and face are on the website, I try not to blur the lines between my new professional pursuits and my personal shares. However, I am keenly aware that others are not always as adept at understanding how I draw my lines and may start to associate who I am with what I do.
Still, I have been pondering as to how I can use my social presence to share what is important to me. For the most part, I keep my feeds full of images of the enviable life that I lead as I really do have an amazing life. Yet, I do have strong opinions and views on what is happening in the world. This, I keep to my face-to-face conversations or within my own musings. I sometimes envy those who can share societal and political opinions without concern of pushback from those who do not agree.
Truthfully, I cannot be bothered to expend energy in defending a stance that I take or attempting to convince others as to why I feel/believe the way that I do. It is a tiresome activity to me and unless I actually care enough about the individual to want to engage in a meaningful conversation, I feel exhausted at the idea of having to go around in circles until we come to a mutual understanding. A part of me sees my arrogance in this, as generally I feel it is not worth it because I do not believe that it is me who has to come around to others’ way of thinking, but rather the opposite. A part of me feels righteous in knowing that my life experiences trump the majority of the people with whom I’d be forced to have such a conversation in the first place-for those who have had similar experiences don’t need convincing. Ultimately, though, my old soul just feels tired and somewhat deflated at the fact that repeated conversations from the course of history must still be had despite various claims that we have made progress in our sense of humanity.
With social media being an open space to anyone and everyone, I struggle to find the right balance and way of expressing something meaningful. Therefore, I mainly keep it safe.
Lately, though, I have been feeling an urge to share more – more of what I think, more of what I lament, more of what affects, more of what distracts, more and more.
So, I return to my initial question. When does the sharing go from just providing an insight and perspective to an overshare or an invite for ridicule and trolling? Is it necessary to use social media for this purpose or is there another way that I can more safely, and comfortably, achieve the same aim?
One might say this blog is an avenue and could be enough. This is true. I actually have no idea who reads my words aside from a few who do comment in person or on here directly. Thus, in that sense, I can feel safe to hide behind the words here and hope that a reader is impacted in some way. Yet, I feel drawn for more.
But, what and why?
I do not necessarily want notoriety or fame. I wouldn’t say no to fortune, though. π Still, I want to feel validated, just like any other person. I want to feel seen and heard by the many.
Therefore, this is my request/permission to the Universe to open up the doors so that my influence, my words, my essence can be shared beyond my comfort zone to have a greater impact on the world at large. May God bless and protect this pursuit-in whatever form, shape, or way that it may come.
With our settling in to the new “forever” home, I have been having some internal struggles.
A home represents who one is both as individuals and as the whole unit of those who live in the shared space. Therefore, expressing my own style while combining that of M’s has challenges. To be fair, we do not drastically differ; and for the most part we are in agreement with the general ideal look of each room.
One major challenge is that our few belongings are still waiting to find space on a ship from Japan to Italy. Therefore, we cannot completely nest into the space because we do not want to completely duplicate or clash with what we already have. So, there’s a balancing act of being patient and also trying to fill the massive space that we want to leave our mark in.
However, there are two matters with which I am, particularly, struggling.
First, in our attempt to furnish the house, I am finding that I do not exactly like the Italian-style π , and yet do not want to look like an Ikea showroom, even though I do like most of their products. So, I am considering how I can possibly paint or personalize pieces that we need (we have very few large pieces of furniture coming in our shipment). What I have to constantly remind myself is that this is our space for the foreseeable future, so there is no rush. Patience must be applied. π
The bigger issue that I am facing is accepting this is a long-term abode.
My first eight years of life had me moving around creating a sense of normal out of being somewhat nomadic. Despite being fairly stable in my family home from eight to 18, when I left for college, I always knew that I would not have a conventional life living nearby in a suburb or fulfilling my father’s dream of family dinners every Sunday.
While being an English language educator was not my dream profession, it did afford me the kind of lifestyle that I wanted. In my adult life, I have moved to a new living space every three or four years, even if I stayed in one country for lengthy periods of time.
By moving frequently, I was able to justify why I never nested. Many of my expat friends would be sure to put up pictures on the walls or do various small things to mark their new space as theirs. This was never me. It felt too permanent, too attached, too settled – too scary.
When M and I moved to Japan, we decided to break the cycle.
So, in our house, we half-heartedly put up pictures on the walls with thumbtacks. We never used anything that would make it feel permanent. Of course, we knew that we weren’t going to stay there for more than a few years; we always had a foot out of the door, so to speak. Still, we were temporarily content with our efforts. I felt that I was starting to take a step toward adulthood, stability and creating a ‘home’.
The past year has returned us to a very nomadic way of life as we moved about six times within a year trying to determine where we were going to put away our suitcases.
In that time, I found that I was ready for a more permanent space. However, I did make M promise that this didn’t mean that we were going to never travel again nor that we would stop having adventures together. He has promised and I’m holding him to it.
Still, at the moment, neither of us are overly eager to leave the space. There is a brightness to it. The energy vibrates with positivity and love. So, we both soak it up everyday. M went to Milan for a few days last week and said that he missed the house and land. I have yet to leave it for very long, but imagine I will feel similarly when I do. But, I have no problem with missing the space knowing that I can come back to it.
Although I always knew that I could go home to my family (and still can), it’s never felt like my space. Rather, I tend to feel like a visitor and focus on spending time with the people I cherish rather than reconnecting with the space itself. Part of that is probably because my parents must have a shared spirit in that they are on their fourth house since I left home 20-some years ago. π
So, all this is to say that I am enjoying the nesting process, but am working through some inner challenges in defining what is our home’s style and accepting this is our launching pad for, well in our minds right now, forever.
I thought for sure I had written about my disdain for this commercialized, over-hyped, not really a holiday, excuse to be ‘weird’ day. However, it seems that it was in 2010 that I last wrote about it. So, a little piece 11 years later, and over a week since it has past this year, isn’t too bad.
There are actually some aspects of Halloween that I do like.
One of my fondest memories of Halloween is from when I was in my teens carving pumpkins at a friend’s house. We would clean out the insides, carve, and then have an innards fight outside. Sometimes, there would also be roasted pumpkin seeds for snacks. As I got older, I would hang out with my friends, but I never dressed up and avoided trick-or-treating.
I prefer the “Day of the Dead” or “All Saints Day” celebrations on the 1st of November over the dressing up in silly costumes and gluttonous hoarding of candy that I will likely never eat.
Still, I try to scroll quickly by or avoid social media altogether during the week of and few days after surrounding the 31st of October. It amazes me how the Americanized ‘celebration’ of a pagan tradition has spread around the world and overridden the spiritual meaning to be enjoyed by non-Americans as much as Americans. It just goes to show how commercialism and globalization works to the detriment of society, in my opinion.
For many years I have pondered my dislike for this one day in the year. It probably goes back to my post about Honesty vs Humor as I see dressing up in a costume and hiding behind a mask so that one has an excuse to pretend to be someone else as dishonest. Intellectually, I understand it is a bit of fun and everyone likes to have a chance to pretend for a bit. However, emotionally, I don’t find it fun or funny and lack fully appreciation for wanting to pretend that one is anyone else but who they are. I think we spend too much time trying not to acknowledge or know ourselves, so using one day out of the year as the ‘excuse’ seems redundant.
Anyway… I have managed to endure it for another year and recognize that if it is only one day that bothers me, life isn’t bad. π Plus, this year, I got to carve pumpkins again and find some joy in the passing of All Hallow’s Eve.
I have just finished watching the Netflix documentary Found.
As it is National Adoption Awareness Month (NAAM), which is not something I really pay much attention to but due to running The Universal Asian, I have to be somewhat aware, at least. This article from the Huffington Post made me nod quite a few times as it is also why I tend not to celebrate these kinds of ‘awareness’ days/months, etc.
Still, as I try to keep abreast of what is going on in the Asian diaspora, and this being the month it is, I thought that I would make a bit more of an effort to educate, or familiarize, myself with other stories that are being shared. The girls/ladies in Found made me reminisce on my younger days when I also was struggling with whether or not I would search for my biological family. Now that I have and come up to a dead end, I find my reaction to the film dredges up a weird sense of anger toward the country, government, system, and even the parents, on the concept of giving up their children. It is all so incredibly inhumane for no justifiable reason that results in so much grief and pain no matter how well one goes on with their life.
As I watched with feelings of sadness, disappointment, and also empathy, I couldn’t help but think on the current state of my search.
I have done DNA testing with those who should be related to me according to my paperwork, and yet they are not related to me at all. My closest DNA relation confirmed is a third cousin; and it is possible that I have found a closer cousin, but she has yet to take steps to confirm that.
On top of that, are the myriad of stories related to the Social Welfare Society that orchestrated my first adoption as being rather notorious for switching babies’ identities at the last minute if a child was returned to their biological homes or something else happened to them. Therefore, it makes me question everything I know about my origins including my name, birth date, etc. because what should have been a straightforward search has left me with so much doubt and mistrust of the information I have.
In watching the film, we get to see the side of the biological parents who are not necessarily actively searching, but are waiting to be found.
I have experienced three different occasions in which I have been told that I should search for my biological family. In fact, they were the impetus behind me starting the process. One NYC taxi driver told me that they were waiting for me to find them because most are not able or don’t know how to go about searching. This film confirmed that. If it weren’t for the woman helping to connect the adoptees with their biological families, the families would not have bothered to move forward in finding their children since they are all poor, feel guilt, and/or don’t know where or how to start.
So, again, I revert back to my own story.
Could someone actually be searching for me, but I was switched when adopted and so they cannot find me? Or, is my paperwork accurate and the truth will always be a mystery?
Either way, I feel anger at the system.
Don’t get me wrong, my love for my adoptive parents does not change, but don’t forget that they didn’t adopt me from Korea. The Universe brought us together for a mutual benefit to each other.
Still, whenever I am told that I must feel lucky for being adopted or expected to feel grateful that I didn’t grow up in an orphanage, I feel anger. I don’t feel lucky and I don’t feel grateful.
I am not lucky to have lost knowing who and where I came from. I am not grateful that I do not fully fit in, nor am fully accepted, in my adoptive country nor my birth one. I am not lucky to have been adopted multiple times and suffered for it. I am not grateful for my supposed better life, because who knows what kind of life I could have had. While growing up in an orphanage may have made me question if I was loved, I would have known my language, my food, and my culture. While I could have had a tough and poor life with my biological family, I would have known my people, my DNA history, my tribe. Of course, I could have still suffered abuse. Likewise, I could have still gotten a decent education and traveled abroad. We will never know the what ifs/could have beens.
Still, just because I haven’t been ‘found’ nor ‘found’ my biological family, I have to say I am not lost. While there was loss in my adoption journey, I know I have found myself along the way.
Thus, the documentary is well worth a viewing; and maybe there will be something new to be Found.
