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Posts Tagged ‘Personal essay’

Story of My Life 6: Fallout* #MondayMindfulness

Posted in Advice, Parenting, tagged , , , , , , , , , on January 9, 2023| 2 Comments »

Dear Friends and Family,

This is it: the last part of this origin story.

It’s been quite a journey (Here are parts 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5.)

Here are the takeaways:

  1. Genetics are cool. Over the course of about two years, I have met more than 30 new people to whom I am blood related. Seeing myself in people other than the two I made is incredible. I see my eyes in my sister, my dimples in my brother, my laugh in my father, my inability to sit still in my mother, etc.
  2. Love isn’t like pie. More for some doesn’t mean less for others. I can love my adopted parents and extended family with my whole heart (and do) and also love my found family.
  3. Love is love is love. No boundaries. Some of the most wonderful messages I’ve received are from adopted cousins. Add to those messages all the heartfelt ones from friends and relations by marriage and new people tangential to the story, and you see that this has been a moving experience for more people than just myself.
  4. The human capacity for love, understanding and acceptance is astounding. Everyone in this story (except one**) has seemed to be so happy about this late-in-life connection. I have been amazed at how excited people seem to be to add me to the family. I’m still on my best behavior of course. I don’t want anyone to regret the welcome. 😉
  5. I am fortunate. Not every adoptee has a positive experience. And I have had it on both sides. One of my friends found her birth mother, and mom turned out to be … not a good person. Another friend found his, who said she didn’t want a relationship: “I gave you up for a reason.” Kathy is fond of saying that this could have been a Lifetime movie, but it turned out to be a Hallmark one.

Me: That’s why I was careful to explain in my letter that I’m a normal, stable person.

Alaina (my niece): That’s exactly what a crazy person would say.

Another takeaway? I can expel water from my face holes. (Thanks for the term, Heather!)

This kid had no idea what would happen in a few decades.

So many of you have contacted me with your own stories and messages of encouragement. Thank you. My goal in writing this series was twofold:

  1. It’s a great story. Come on: You have to give me that!
  2. I wanted to recognize and applaud all the people who opened their hearts to me.

If my story helps any other adoptees or adoptive families navigate these strange waters, then I will have done some good.

With any luck, they will get a message from a birth parent that’s as welcome and touching as this one:

Thanks for reading.

XO,
Beth

*Mission Impossible. Of course.

**I think that person just needs a little more time to process. I’m certainly not going to force it.

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Story of My Life 5: You Only Live Twice #SentimentalSaturday

Posted in Parenting, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 7, 2023| 4 Comments »

Dear Friends and Family,

(You know the drill: Part 1, 2, 3 and 4.)

During my conversation with my father, he told me that he didn’t actually live at the address where I sent the letter. His ex-wife, Jan, still lives there with her son, my half-brother Brad. (They also have a daughter, Erin, my half sister.) Jan opened the letter, shared it with Brad, and he shared with David.

(After I asked Jan* about this part of the story, she said that when Brad called David, David talked about his crazy day. Brad said, “Dad, it’s about to get a whole lot crazier.”)

David now lives in Long Island in an apartment off my uncle’s house. (The apartment used to be my uncle’s dental office.)

Y’all. I mean. Can you IMAGINE Jan’s reaction? Brad’s? David’s?

I might have had to take some time to process, but David called me within 24 hours.

The call consisted of high-level catch-up, as you might expect. He seemed happy to know about me.

And Jan reached out to me on Facebook to welcome me to the family.

And Brad texted me to start a conversation.

How lovely is that?

David and I started talking regularly, and we decided we would meet when I visited New York for my annual birthday trip in December.

I flew into La Guardia and rented a car as the LIRR train schedule did not cooperate.

Brad: Have a good time! 
Me: Thanks. I'm on my way. Nervous. 
Brad: So is he!

David was waiting on his porch when I pulled up. He said he felt like a kid at Christmas. I did too. (Add some flop sweat that Santa doesn’t usually get.)

He had a present for me:

I suddenly became very aware of my nasolacrimal ducts. Why? When I met Kathy, she gave me a present.

It was a gift David had given to her for her birthday when they were dating. She kept it all these years because it was the one thing that connected the three of us. And I had told him about it.

Oh Lord: There’s something in my eye. Hang on.

OK. Proceeding.

He took me to the main house to meet my Uncle Terry and Aunt Rosemary.

As it turns out, they and their family and David spent plenty of time in Savannah because they have a place in Hilton Head. Again, I could have run into them AT ANY POINT and not known about our connection.

Also, I would be staying the night in Uncle Terry and Aunt Rosemary’s house.

Y’ALL. These people JUST met me. I am a stranger. So this tells you a little something about how my existence was received.

The four of us went out to dinner and had a wonderful time. When we got back, David brought out a cake for my birthday.

I lost it (but tried not to).

He got me an ice cream cake (Carvel FTW!) without even KNOWING I am not a fan of regular cake.

It was … a lot. (I know I keep saying it, but cut me some slack. It IS a lot!)

The next day, we went on a drive to key places of interest for him and the family.

We laughed. We argued good naturedly. We got to know each other.

We went to the Long Island Aquarium.

As we were watching the sea lion show, I thought about how completely bizarre it was to be there with him. This is the kind of things dads do with their daughters when daughters are children. But here we were, making up for lost time.

Oh look: My lacrimal sac is acting up again. One moment.

I’m back.

It was bone-chillingly cold. My father doesn’t have any body fat (one area where I did NOT get his genes), so we didn’t linger at the lions.

We went back to his place to continue chatting. Before long, it was time for me to head into the city for the rest of the birthday trip.

I had plenty of thoughts to keep me occupied on the drive, along with a debrief phone call from a blogger friend.

I TOLD YOU it was a wild ride.

Just a little bit more to go if you want to join me. The final part is coming soon.

XO,
Beth

* Yes, I talk to Jan. Another weird and wonderful part of the story.

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Story of My Life 3: Revenge of the Sith* #TuesdayTogetherness

Posted in Parenting, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on January 3, 2023| 6 Comments »

Dear Friends and Family,

The story continues, as promised. (If you are new here and need a recap, read Part 1 and Part 2.)

My birth mother Kathy and I started chatting weekly on the phone. And as you know, that’s a big deal for me. (Why do I hate talking on the phone so much?)

Topics? Large: I learned my birth father’s full name. Small: I learned we like our eggs the same way. (So that’s where I got it!)

She told me about all the family I had in the St. Louis area. You’ll remember I mentioned my mom Jeanne was from Missouri. Well, I spent my childhood visiting relatives all over the state: Kansas City, Jefferson City and also St. Louis. My favorite aunt and uncle lived in Hazelwood, Missouri — 25 minutes from my current home and 15 minutes from where Kathy lives.

It’s bizarre to think that I could have passed a member of my birth family in the grocery store.

Weird and wonderful, to say the least.

On one of our calls, I mentioned I had a dream that I had driven to St. Louis to see her. She said she did want to meet me. We started planning for Memorial Day weekend.

Y’all, this was … something. Talking on the phone was one thing. Actually meeting her was another.

She picked me up at the St. Louis airport. Her first words to me were these:

I haven't seen you in ___** years!

So yes, we have a similar sense of humor.

I’ve written about this part of the story before.

This is the day I met Kara and Lodell.

But here’s the important thing:

It was so easy. It felt right. I fit in. No awkwardness.

As George Bailey said, “What do you know about that?!“

We all set about building relationships — relationships helped by my move to St. Louis.

It’s gone better than I had any right to want.

The next step? Contacting my birth father. You know: One step at time.

That’s the fourth and final part. Also the most recent. As in past six months.

Don’t touch that dial!

XO,
Beth

*Yes, I know I’m being silly. But I’ll do it again for Part 4.

**Listen, a lady doesn’t share her age — even for the sake of a story. 😉

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Story of My Life* #ThursdayThoughts

Posted in Parenting, tagged , , , , , , , on December 29, 2022| 6 Comments »

Dear Friends and Family (old and new),

As many of you know, I’m adopted. I was adopted when I was about six weeks old. (“Fresh baby! Get her while she’s pink!) I’ve always known I was adopted. My parents said they would help me look for my birth family when I was ready.

I was never ready when they were alive.

It felt like it would be disrespectful to them to search. Also, what if my birth mother hadn’t told anyone about me? Showing up on her doorstep would be a bit of a surprise — and likely not in a Prize Patrol kind of way.

I had great parents. Howard and Jeanne loved me, and I loved them. I had a normal middle-class childhood: We lived in a standard subdivision of ’70s split levels (say that three times fast) outside of Atlanta, and I went to public schools but a private college (scholarship, FTW!). We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor. No abuse. (Unless you count all those times I got whacked with a fly swatter because of my smart mouth. And I certainly don’t.)

Some of my friends were adopted too, and we commiserated about what it must be like to actually look like someone else or see some of your behaviors handed down from a parent. My parents often looked at me like I was a zoo animal because I had so much more energy than they did. They were sedentary people. And y’all know I am … not.

Still, my friends weren’t so keen to search either. It’s a big thing. Rejection looms large.

All I knew about my birth mother was that she was a very young college student and didn’t feel she could care for me at the time.

When I left college myself and started thinking about starting a family, I wrote to the adoption agency to see if I could get any medical information. It felt important to find out if I had a family history of cancer, heart disease, diabetes (“The Shugahs” if you are from the South), etc.

They sent back a few pages of typed social information: birth parents’ first names, general background, number of siblings, physical features, college education, circumstances surrounding my conception and birth, etc.

Then, the kicker:

My people, I was not ready for that. I folded that little letter back up and tucked it into a file folder. There it stayed for nearly two decades.

And even now as I try to explain what has been going on over the past few years, I realize I have to stop here for now.

This feels like a four-part series: Beginning (this part), Discovery, Meeting Mom, Meeting Dad.

Stay tuned. (If you are interested, that is.)

XO,
Beth

*Credit to Harry and the boys.

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You’re a mean one … #SundayStories #SundaySabotage

Posted in Advice, tagged , , , , , , on April 24, 2022| 12 Comments »

Dear Mean Girl,

You actively sabotaged me.

You lied about me to ruin my reputation and stall my career.

You friended me on Facebook to gather information then defriended me when your nasty work was done.

But I guess I should thank you.

In the words of Christina Aguilera (whom I never thought I’d quote):

After all you put me through
You’d think I’d despise you
But in the end, I wanna thank you
‘Cause you made me that much stronger.

I met up with someone recently who knew you when you were just starting out. You did the same thing to that person that you did to me.

So I know it wasn’t personal: You’ve got a history. A pattern. A way. It’s like that parable (and song) about the snake: “You knew I was a snake when you took me in.”

It’s sad, really.

It’s hard enough for women to succeed without other women dragging them down.

Being in a leadership role is not like having pie: Some for me doesn’t mean less for you.

Anyway. Our circles no longer intersect, and now I’m better off.

If you hadn’t made my life miserable, I wouldn’t have focused on finding new opportunities. And I now love my job.

So thank you.

I wish you all the best in your future endeavors.

Best wishes and warmest regards,
Beth

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Start the year right with a rant #SundayStories

Posted in Friends, Guest post, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 3, 2021| Leave a Comment »

Dear Readers,
You all know how I love a good guest post. Well, my friend Revell — you know, my taxidermy partner in crime — wrote a doozy. Here is his end-of-year rant that he is permitting me to share. He echoes many of my same sentiments and is nothing if not authentic (edited slightly for format and references that might get him into trouble). You might agree with him, you might not, but it is a wild ride full of the F word (be warned). Enjoy!
Beth

Just a Yearly Update
By Revell

2020 … What the actual fuck? What even happened this year besides complete. Utter. CHAOS???

I don’t think I have ever been tested and pushed to this extent in my entire life, and I don’t doubt for a second the same for you! This may have been the most growth I’ve ever had in a single year or maybe as a human being in general.

This pandemic has had me question every aspect of my journey. Here’s a few key points I learned:

  • Hold on to your loved ones, celebrate life, and don’t EVER think twice about being 100 percent authentically YOU.
  • Don’t underestimate your personal power and know that WE REALLY ARE stronger in numbers.
  • Speak up for what’s right, call people out on their bullshit, keep friends close who also call you out on your bullshit, be held accountable, and don’t ever stop pushing to be a better person.
  • Being fired does not mean you were in the wrong or that you didn’t kill it at your job.
  • You can be in love with more than one person.
  • Mental health is real and you are not crazy.
  • Georgia is fucking BLUE!
  • Know your self worth, and don’t let people or corporations take advantage of you.
  • No matter how cute and adorable, small powdery moths are not your friends and will potentially eat everything you own.
  • Do not trust Nanna without a mask.
  • Love your family unconditionally, especially when they make it through COVID alive! FUCK — when YOU make it through COVID alive!
  • Dental care is still wayyyyyy too fucking expensive, and even when you try to be proactive about self care and the insurance money you paid into, you STILL get fucked! Well, unless it’s your cat and every tooth needs to be pulled at the most inconvenient time possible. So yeah! FUCKED!
  • Give yourself opportunities to grow and make yourself uncomfortable.
  • When someone laughs at your dreams or ideas and tells you they are not possible, just prove them wrong.
  • Peanut butter and Ramen noodles will keep you alive in a pandemic.
  • Credit Karma is an app and also part of being an adult now.
  • White men are still the worst! Especially fuckin’ Boomers.
  • Bernie’s campaign was smeared by the Democratic Party … AGAIN!
  • This country was founded on slavery, and if you’re not jaded, you’re obviously. NOT. listening. Fuck a confederate monument.
  • Socialism means all we want is healthcare … in … a … pandemic! Weird right?
  • I’m a queer, loud, unapologetic abolitionist with no regrets!
  • Well, one regret: that antique mirror at that one estate sale I decided not to buy on my credit card with money I didn’t have. Def a regret!
  • Fuck fascists, centrists and the “American dream.”
  • Trans women ARE real women!
  • When you’re starving in pandemic, just EAT THE FUCKIN’ RICH!
  • Harry Potter is fucking canceled, and J.K. Rowling ruined my childhood! What a TERF!
  • Still bitter about Taco Bell not selling potatoes.
  • And who knew that Paris Hilton’s vote-or-die campaign had such relevance now in 2020. The reality is vote, or FUCKING DIE!
  • And last but not least, BLACKLIVESFUCKINGMATTER!

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How YOU doin’? I’m … fine (?) #WellnessWednesday

Posted in Apartment life, Parenting, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2020| 6 Comments »

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s Day 12 of captivity. I’ve gained two pounds. I have to resist the urge to eat cheese all day. It’s bad enough I take my vitamins with wine.

I’m still going to work for a few hours each day for a change of scenery. I’m not a dress-down-for-work kind of gal. Yesterday, I wore a skirt and heels. Just for me.

I rarely see anyone when I’m there. Yesterday, though, I saw the CFO at the water cooler on the second floor and the woman in charge of special projects down the hall. We all paused in our tracks, giggling nervously. The CFO went back into his office, and Special Projects let me go into the bathroom before she continued down the hall. Six feet of space, people.

Later in the day, I crossed paths with the CFO again. Same situation.

Him: Stay on your floor!
Me: I don’t have a bathroom up there. Unless you want to spring for a Porta Potty, I’m coming down!

When I was at my university the first time around as an English major, I won a major award for writing. The prize package included “Love in the Time of Cholera.”

In our house, it’s “Love in the Time of Corona.”

Gideon broke up with his girl Peyton. He informed me last night:

I don’t want to be in a relationship anymore. It takes up too much of my time. My precious time.

Incidentally, I won the award for a short story I wrote called “The Pot Roast.” It was about my weird grandmother wanting raw meat as a Christmas gift.

Last night, I made the dish.

Gideon, girlfriend-free with precious time on his hands, roamed into the kitchen.

Him (peering into the pot): What’s this?
Me: Pot roast.
Him: We haven’t had that in a while.
Me: Yep. I’m bringing out all the hits.
Him: Top 20?
Me: Top 20 from the 2000s.

After dinner, the family decided to play Twister. Yes, Twister. I’ve still got it! I managed to keep myself up plus Dominic. I bowed out when a spin for me would have required me to sit on his head. Let’s not get crazy in confinement.

Nighttime also is TV time. Even “sheltering in place” cannot help me get through the treacly “This Is Us.” I deleted all episodes in my queue, and instantly feel better. (Honestly. It takes itself SO SERIOUSLY. It’s like a DC Comics movie.)

I’m still taking CORVID-19 seriously. Perhaps too much. I got a little worried earlier this week because I had a sore throat and a headache. Insert panic. Then I realized it’s springtime in the South — an inch of pollen everywhere.

Maybe that explains the guy restocking at the gas station. He emitted a small cough. The cashier and I whipped around on him.

Me: How long have you had that cough?
Him: (Scurries quickly away from the loud lady)

Stay safe, and don’t get Corona-ed,
Beth

 

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Santa baby: I’ll wait up for you, dear. #Christmas2019 #wishlist

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 24, 2019| 2 Comments »

Dear Santa,

I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in person this year. I tried. The line was just too long at Santaland. I had other places to go, and people to see.

(It occurs to me that I’m actually lamenting the fact that I didn’t get to sit on some some old dude’s lap. Holiday traditions are weird.)

As I’ve been (mostly) good, I’m hoping that you can still help me out with my wish list. Items are a little tricky this year, I’m afraid. Not sure the elves can handle these things.

Anyway, here goes:

    1. Some kind of cream that will make the itchy spot on my right eye go away. The dermatologist is stumped. I use the same products on BOTH EYES, but my left eye is fine. Please help. I look like Hitch.
    2. Guests in our Airbnb condo who will actually read and abide by the house rules. It’s not like we are asking for much. Just take the trash out of the place, and send it down the rubbish chute right outside the door. We aren’t asking for gold doubloons as tips or anything. Although …
    3. A money tree would be nice. Have you seen how much Dominic eats? Or how leggy Gideon is getting? At least they can’t wear my shoes anymore, so that means mine stay clean. I promise I will share the harvest with friends and family. Well, most of them.
    4. Expansion of Marta. Or at the very least, a change of heart for the car-focused people of Atlanta who keep voting against it.
    5. People who are driving at or below the speed limit to STAY THE F out of the passing lane. You have a reindeer-powered sleigh. You do not know the horror of I-16.
    6. Another season of “Schitt’s Creek.” Season 6 is supposed to be the last one. But you can make Daniel Levy change his mind, right? RIGHT?!
    7. The ability to speak Spanish, French, German, Italian, Portuguese and Japanese fluently. I dream big, but you’re Santa. It’s not like you are starting from scratch. I’m at toddler levels for the first two. And I know key phrases for the others. Look, you never know when you need to tell a Japanese person that he’s taken the last Band-Aid.
    8. A stop to the entire country of India requesting to add me as a contact on Linked In. I really don’t know anyone in India.
    9. More followers for this blog. It’s not an ego thing (although an audience is great). It’s an expanding-my-circle thing.  I’ve met some of the most interesting people via this blog — folks I never would have met otherwise.
    10. Guest posts. I’m still waiting for posts from Julia, Royce, Kerstin, Nick, TJ, etc. I’m not holding my breath, though.
    11. Patience. Lord knows Dominic regularly uses up my limited supply.
    12. Someone to make these for me. I’m a great cook, but kind of a crappy baker.
    13. The cute blue cheetah-print jeans I gave away when I thought I’d be fat forever.
    14. More early-morning water boot camp classes at the Y so that I won’t ever be fat again.
    15. For Origins to bring back the Spring Fever scent. Please! I can’t be the only one who has asked you for this.

I know it’s a tall order. Just do what you can. Thanks, Santa! I appreciate you.

Love,
Beth

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From feeling fat to feeling PHAT: What a difference a year makes #SundayStory

Posted in Advice, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2019| Leave a Comment »

I’m about to do something I’ve never done. See below. (And I’m not sure why my hair looks gray on top. It’s not.)

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen on the Weight Struggle Bus:

I know your pain. I was with you in more than spirit a year ago. As a reminder, here’s a photo from Trish the Human’s wedding on Sept. 9 last year:

I cringe when I see that photo. I’m clearly trying — and failing — to hide behind Dominic.

Here’s a photo from a year earlier:

Notice the body language. (I’d say to notice the dark, slimming colors, but I wear black despite how much of me there is.)

I was MISERABLE. How to hide in photos was the least of my worries.

Bigger worries:

  • High cholesterol
  • Inability to give campus tours without getting out of breath (especially up one particular hill)
  • Ridiculous amount of self consciousness
  • Negative self talk
  • Wardrobe reduced by 80 percent
  • Snoring
  • Sleeping even less than I do now
  • Hot all the damn time

I’ve shared with you my turning point. It’s different for everyone, but let me say this about that:

It is NEVER going to get easier.

There is no magic pill.

Surgery can be a fix for some but still requires changes in eating habits.

You have to decide you are going to do something about your health. Then DO IT.

The program I chose worked for me*, but may not work for you.

Despite the fact that I’m married to someone in the CrossFit Cult (or maybe, actually, BECAUSE of that), I hate exercising. I lost almost 50 pounds by controlling what went in my piehole.

Now that I’ve lost the weight, I go to the gym three times a week for my Biddy Boot Camp.

I hit my goal weight in April, and I have maintained it with very little effort.

I FEEL GREAT!

That’s what I say to anyone who will listen. People not even living with me notice the difference.

To that end, I’m going to do something I’ve never, ever done — and never would have done if I hadn’t lost the weight: Publicly post a bikini pic. No filter. No cropping. No Photoshop.

Here we go.

I know I still have some work to do, but I feel more confident than I have in more than 15 years. I’m brave enough to take and share this photo, anyway.

And if this move inspires even ONE of you to make a change for your sake and for the sake of your family, then my nervousness at doing it will have been worth it.

If I can do it, you can too. I believe in you.

Love and all my best wishes for a healthier you,
Beth

 

* Eddie is now a coach in the program. Send me a message if you want me to hook you up.

 

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Sentenced to Church, Part VII: “Yes, but what part?”

Posted in Random, Religion (or lack thereof), tagged , , on May 10, 2017| Leave a Comment »

STOP: If you haven’t read “Sentenced to Church, Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V and Part VI,” do that now.

The final church visit was made to a Lutheran church on Palm Sunday. I chose this church for a specific reason: I thought it might actually be one I could attend regularly.

After going to five churches and reaffirming the things I don’t believe and don’t like about church, I thought it might be good to do some research. Thanks to religion.net, I was able to research a variety of world religions. I looked at the site’s chart listing all the various categories for belief (the Bible, communion, heaven, hell, etc.) and followed across to see where my personal convictions matched up with an organized religion.

The top contender appeared to be the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America. Voila! I had my sixth and final entry of my study.

When I walked up that Sunday, the congregation was preparing for the special Palm Sunday processional. The greeter asked me to sign the guest book, which I did. As in the other church visits, I did not fill out the address because I didn’t really want to be stalked by various church representatives. The greeter, a kind-looking elderly lady was persistent.

“Where are you from?,” she asked. “Bloomingdale,” I replied, naming the nearest city. “Which part?” she probed. “Just up the road,” I said evasively. “Yes, but which part?” she demanded. Luckily, I was saved by another neighbor, Robert, from four doors down, who steered me away to meet his wife Phyllis. Phyllis was sitting alone during the service because Robert had a part as Judas in the Palm Sunday presentation.

Even with the service modified to celebrate Palm Sunday, it felt comfortable – like slipping on an old bathrobe. I was raised Presbyterian, and many aspects of this service were similar to what I remember from services at Highlands Presbyterian Church. I could recite the Nicene Creed without assistance, for example.

One hour later, I was back in my car and ready to go home, mission fulfilled.

One week later, I headed to the courthouse to turn in my bulletins. The clerk shuffled through a basket of papers (what, no computer files?) and pulled out my citation. She stapled the bulletins to it and said I was finished. “That’s it?” I asked. “No receipt?” “That’s it,” she said, looking a little disturbed that I had questioned the system.

Though my husband still gets a kick out of calling me a criminal, I’m pleased with my sentence, and how much I learned. My theory of life is that if something wonderful happens, then that is great in itself. But if something not-so-wonderful happens, then that is OK because it makes a great story.

In other words, bad decisions make good stories.

I guess sometimes crime does pay.

THE END

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