Houston..we have contact.

I got the call at 10 this morning. I slept with both phones next to my bed. I had a restless sleep- the kind you have when you are eagerly waiting for something- the kind you have when you are sleeping only so the next day will come.


I am on cloud nine, even though I know this will not be an easy journey.

I have one wish:

I want her to look back on this day years from now- and be happy that she met me.


above your deep and dreamless sleep- another star lights up the sky.

Being an infant or a bird

I want this so badly that it almost hurts. I need this. I need this to mean something. Every second of my life has brought me to this moment. Every breathe has brought me to this instant.

I am one person's mistake, another's best decision. I am one man's pain, another's joy.

I am a sibling to many but a sister to none.

I am secret and I am a granddaughter.

I am a daughter but a friend, a am both spontaneous and meticulously planned.

I am everything and I am nothing at the same time.

I have always known what I am. I have always been told, always been reminded. I want everything to mean something. I don't like useless pain. I don't like wasted emotions. And I REALLY don't like poor decisions. The choices they've made, the choices I've made, could all make perfect sense. I long to find someone in this mess- just one person- who makes me feel as if it has all been worth it. These past 10 years- I need to know that they haven't been in vain. Sure I know a bunch of shit that I wouldn't have had I not made the decision to reunite- but mere facts do not make up for the gaping holes that I had so desperately try to plug up. It has been worth it, in a purely informational sense, but I admit that even after years of having contact with my biological family, that part of me feels empty. Part of me knows that nothing can ever be fixed. And that is the part of me that decided to search for Stephanie, my biological sister who was adopted a few years before I was. That was the part of me that searched through all of my old records, read the ridiculous story of my past. That was the part of me that went to the bank to get everything notarized, and the part of me that has waited by the phone for weeks.

Tomorrow could be a good day, or a very bad day. This is my final attempt. Tomorrow I will have some sort of answer. Something will have moved. Something will have changed. I am prepared for a rejection- I've had it so many times before. I am hoping to find something new -something beautiful- coursing through my veins. I am hoping beyond hope and praying to no end that I can look into the face of someone whose blood I share and see love in their eyes. I am tired of seeing anger, jealousy, shame, and guilt. I want to see a face, even if it is not like my own, and know that we have a connection. I want to feel it. If it is not there, I want to build it. I will do the work-I've always been willing to- if only someone was willing to work with me.

I did it with D and E, and D and G, and C and M and EVERYONE. I tried and I tried. I want someone to try for me. I want these past years to have led me here. I've traveled this road, and I want to find something at the end of it. I am not looking for a pot of gold- a few specks of bronze will do. Anything shiny enough to mirror my intentions- and the love I could have for these people, if only they would let me.

I never could see, but I'd do it all again.

How I will rise up from the waters where I've drowned.You will know me,you will see- your face will light up from the glory that it's found



I am doing that thing again,denying some parts and accepting others- the rationalization that often accompanies loss. You don't want anything to do with me? Good. I don't want you either. It's a little pathetic,really. Mostly because I can pinpoint exactly what I'm doing. There's no shame in the action, merely the inability to stop. My inability to stop.

If the current project doesn't work out, I'll resign myself to it. I'll fade into the background, the woodwork, or wherever it is that people in my situation fade off into. I've already begun the process, of course, but nothing has been finalized. I can't very well write off everyone, because some people have been nothing but steady, nothing but good. Those who are supposed to be the most deranged end up being the most pristine of all. Opportunity cannot make up for heart, so it would seem, but I think I knew that anyway.

I am casually hopeful- I wait for the phone to ring, for the mail to come, for the "you got mail" voice to signal on my computer. I assume that everyone is as eager as I am, but of course that's not the case. I've seen that first hand.

I'm tired of being told that I've lost. In one side's longing to be important, they refuse to be labeled insignificant. It's sad because it's utterly predictable. Sometimes I want to remind them that the majority of them are just bitter. Very few people or situations can make you so something that you don't want to do. Some people are just victims of circumstance, but that sure isn't everybody. I'm tired of being pressured to feel as if I'M unfeeling because I refuse to accept excuses. Anyone can make excuses- it's not difficult. But not everyone can accept responsibility. That's the hard part. I'm tired of this institution being a breeding ground for rationalization.

I have lost, yes. But I have gained as well. I've gained so much more.The gains can't make up for the losses. Unfortunately, nothing can. Nor would I want it to. I stand firmly where I am, sure of my decisions, and accepting every consequence as quietly as I can. I don't want to collapse- crumbling as I have been these past few months. This is my one last ditch effort at a connection- and finding someone who is a part of me who is lacking in crazy. If I fail, I'll pack up these boxes- tape up these cartons and haul them away. Andiamo avanti, as they say. I'll absolutely do so.

you sing into the night now... just sing on for me

Being notarized is perhaps the biggest pain in the ass ever. I did it, though, in the vain hope that it would be worth it. I want so badly for this to mean something. A door as been closed, and I’m hoping that this is the window that will open.

I hope that she’ll want to meet me-that she’ll be interested in my life and how our lives intertwine. I want to share everything that I’ve learned about our common past with her, I want to encourage her, show her, and help her understand. Perhaps most selfishly, I want to warn her. Things in our past can get pretty freaking ugly, and I want to save someone else the same pain that I’ve experienced.

On that note, I’ve already decided that I will not share any information with anyone else. It may sound selfish- but I’ve done all the work. I’ve made all the phone calls, notarized all the papers, and made all the effort. I am not feeling especially charitable towards anyone right now. I’m tired of letting people walk all over me- and this step has been a positive one in taking control of the situation. I’ve never fully felt a lot of this experience. I’ve tried burying it- it didn’t work. I tried placating myself with contact- that REALLY didn’t work. Unless of course, she asks me to, in which case I will only do so after having thoroughly thought it over. I don’t want to be associated with any of them, (except Mandi, who is absolutely not a problem at all.) I don’t want to be associated with craziness. I don’t want to be a member of that family. I want to be appreciate for exactly what and who I am, and respected for what I have to offer. I would love a friendship, and I am waiting now for a reply.

I am prepared for a rejection. Sometimes, when I think back on my initial contact, I wish I would have known the things I know now. I like to think that I would have run screaming, but I know I wouldn’t have. At least I could have been warned, been prepared. I wish I could have someone who I saw myself in, but who did not embody all of the things I am afraid to become.

How long does the postal system take, anyway?

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke,dear,I was mistaken. Please don't take my sunshine away.


Sometimes it all comes crashing down upon me. The silliest things can set me off. I watched an episode of "Cold Case" earlier this evening, and it was so sad. Just absoklutely so sad. And all of a sudden, I realized what I had done. Just like I've realized it at random moments the past few months. I don't know how long it's been. Perhaps three months? Maybe even longer. I don't recall exactly. I'm afraid that by the time I get back to them, it's going to be too late.

I constantly try and tell myself that I did what was best for me, that they didn't really matter. I have to be sure that they are not important, because if they are, then I have lost more than I could ever have imagined. If biology matters, then I need them, and I have made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Another part of me is angry. Angry that I feel such dedication to them, or such a strong feeling that I should be dedicated to them. They were never dedicated to me, were they? Nope. I want to think so, but I just can't wrap my head around it. GAH

I am so sorry. I am standing my ground now because I feel I should, because I feel obligated to make it as if my decision was completely right. I can't back down, because that means I am indecisive. It isn't enough to just change my mind. It isn't enough. It can never be enough.

I miss them a little bit. Sometimes a lot. Choices, choices. I always preach about choices, and how we should consider the consequences. I guess that applies to me too. Which is why I feel so strongly that I can't go back on this. I want them to want me. I never gave much thought to the fact that I might want them.