Where am I going here?

This blogging world draws me back and back. Sometimes I feel quite sick of it. But then I have to check my daughter's site. I want to know more about her, what she thinks and feels, what she's doing. And then I read a few of her (and my) favorites.

Where am I going with it?

I found tremendous relief in learning others' adoption stories. Finding similarities has assisted me to honor my own story. I've written it here both as a process of self examination and in hopes that I can share -- give some of what I've gained.

I've expanded my knowledge. I've expanded my awareness of the greater world of adoption. I am overcoming awe of women who have been on this search and made great contributions for people like me to read and grow with.

Facing the underbelly of my adoption story, squeezing it and pushing it, poking around to see what's been hidden has given me courage. I love courage, like a bloody gushing energy turning to a full clear fountain of everything. Right now I feel good about my life and confident in reunion despite our ups and downs/ins and outs.

Still, I find myself disturbed easily. I want to gather up all the sorrowing mothers and children and tuck them under my feathers. But I'm more likely to find myself pecking away in wild defense. I go from Mother Hen to chickens are not very nice to each other sometimes are they?

I want to reach out to Joy and hold her and hug her and tell her everything is going to be ok. Time. Separation. Physical. In spite of all that. We are ok. We are in fact fantastic, although we sometimes find ourselves in the valley of the shadow... In my heart we are free.

getting air

Just found this as I'm reviewing my first entries and think it's worth including.

I am amazed. I am feeling free. Feeling -- what's that? Is my "feeling" an illusion or a lie? Or just ephemeral? Probably -- or a part of a cycle.

Over the past few months I've been excavating, uncovering my past and telling stories. My stories of loss and shame. It feels good to quit hiding. Although it is still habitual. Writing, putting it out in words, checking to see if the words fit, how others respond to them or interpret them. Then checking again to see my response. Externalizing these experiences I see myself as larger than them rather than cowed by them.

It's been so good. Exposing myself.