I want to write more about the wedding but, I’m going to be honest. I’m still processing some of the emotions that accompanied the event. They’re mostly fabulous but they’re still very overwhelming. I did wear waterproof mascara to the event which was the right decision. And so, as I process those emotions, I thought I’d tell you a little bit about what else is going on in my somewhat-adoption-related-world.
At Swagapalooza, a book was in our swag bag. It’s entitled Ignore Everybody: and 39 Other Keys to Creativity
Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.
The point goes on in a very encouraging manner.
You may never reach the summit; for that you will be forgiven. But if you don’t make at least one serious attempt to get above the snow line, years later you will find yourself lying on your deathbed, and all you will feel is emptiness.
I wonder exactly what my personal Mount Everest is, what I’m journeying toward. I mean, I’ve been talking about my journey toward peace and healing for quite some time. However, is that just an attempt to get past the snow line? I don’t quite know. I know what I want to do, what I want to accomplish and I even hesitate writing it now because it seems as big and scary as a mountain that is known for killing people on their way to the top.
I’ve been getting nudges, for years now, to write a book. What book, exactly, is still unsure to me. I know everyone expects me to detail my adoption story, our journey that we continue on and will continue on for years and years to come, even after Munchkin is an adult and on her own. However, having paid attention to Dawn’s trials in this same exact area, I already know some of what rejection will come my way. The claims that it isn’t my story to tell. The claims that we don’t know how the Munchkin will feel about it all later on and, as such, the story can’t be told yet. Truth be told, memoirs are actually just supposed to be a glimpse at one part of a life story and not a full conclusion on a life lived. If everyone waited until the life journey was complete to write their memoir, the genre would die right along with the people who were thinking, “I wonder if my journey is complete enough to put pen to paper today. No? Maybe tomorrow.” Too late.
Then there’s the problem of knowing what I want to say. Or, rather, not knowing what I want to say. Or, really, if I get to the heart of the matter, being afraid of the reactions of people for simply saying what it is that I have to say. My adoption story and journey aren’t pleasing to either the super pro-adoption camp who believe that all babies conceived out of wedlock should be given to more deserving couples or the super anti-adoption camp who believe that adoption is inherently evil and should be abolished at all costs. This is, of course, because I am not an extremist and live my reality somewhere between the two ideas. Parts of my story do speak to the absolute and immediate need for adoption reform. The way I was lied to and subtly coerced by the unethical agency through which I placed are exactly what I want to see changed. However, other parts of my story do speak to the wonders of open adoption. I have many a moment, many a conversation that really end up making the long, arduous and grief-laden road worth the bruised knees and broken heart of my travels.
Of course, as I argue these thoughts with myself, I come back to a very important point of which I try to remind others writing on the topic of adoption, be it in blog or forum form: my story does not negate, dismiss or diminish someone else’s story; it is my own. As such, I really shouldn’t care what the extremists from either side think of my story. (Nor do I on a normal basis. But the book idea is scary!) I really shouldn’t even care what the everyday Jane and Joe Schmoe think. This should just be about me, my story and pen and paper. Or, fingers and keyboard. The truth is, I don’t know exactly how I want to portray my story. Truthfully, obviously. Honestly. With passion. But what to say. How to say it. And how to portray it. I just don’t know as of yet.
Maybe I’ll figure it out by the time I finish this book. I don’t know.
