Drop in the ocean

It’s a humbling experience, pulling back that lens you see the world through to view your life as one piece in a huge, ever-changing system of people and beliefs. Sometimes it’s so easy to get caught up in what you see up close. For most of my life, I have viewed my adoption in this way. I belonged to an adoption group and had a few adoptee friends in my childhood, so I knew I wasn’t alone, but still. I am the only Asian in my white family as well as an only child. I was one of maybe four total Asian kids at a high school of 1200. Growing up in the United States, I was raised under westernized ideals, which I interpret as putting high value on individuality and independence. Basically, I grew up feeling pretty darn unique. I was quite convinced that few people, if any at all, could truly understand me. Even now, there are still times when I curl into that self-absorbed, misunderstood ball. It’s certainly not something I’m proud of, but I try to face it.

In starting this blog, I have come to discover the incredible amount of adoptee voice and resources out there. Holy cow! The scholarly literature, memoirs, poetry, organizations, conferences.. I’ve been so isolated from all of it. Entering this adoption blogosphere has been overwhelming. Going from feeling alone to feeling like one of thousands is incredibly humbling. I can scarcely take it all in. There are so many smart, sincere and eloquent people getting their thoughts out there. Some have been blogging for years. Some stopped blogging years ago, but I still find myself entranced by their dust-covered words. All these amazing contributions make me want to re-assess why I’m here and why I’m doing this. In this sea of voices, what can I offer? I feel like I’ve entered a party unforgivably late. I want to be here, though, and I’m already learning so much. The adoption community is bigger and more present than I ever realized. I hope that I can start feeling like a part of it again.