Journey to the Beginning: The FINAL Chapter

Thirteen years ago, my birthmother requested the opportunity to meet me. And I said no.

Over the last few months, I have been communicating with her. In that short time, many realizations have come to me, much has been confirmed and I have seen a side of myself about which I am not entirely proud. And although not much time has passed, all that was to be learned has been learned from this experience and I sit here tonight to give you the final chapter of my journey. Albeit a short and bumpy journey...

On Christmas Day, I was fully prepared to gush to my family about how much I love them and how rich and full and complete they have made my life. But the opportunity to step forward and do so never seemed to come. Until one point in the evening when somehow a relative of mine began speaking about an adopted friend. Then without even a glance toward me, I was given a bit of a tongue lashing for seeking out my birthmother, for taking this small and simple journey back to my beginning. It was not an outright tongue lashing. It was sly and a bit underhanded. But I wouldn't be crediting the intelligence of my relatives if I thought it was merely coincidence that the adopted friend of which she spoke adamantly denied any desire to ever meet her birth family. The story alone was an implication that not all of my family agrees with my decision to grant my birthmother's wish and fulfill my own curiosity. And that's fine.

Entering into this time and place, I knew 3 things for sure. One, adoption didn't hurt me or cause me any pain, grief or sorrow. Two, our lives truly are in God's hands and He predestined the family into which I would be born. And three, all I wanted from my birthmother was INFORMATION, not a family, not a mother and not a best friend.

That brings us to the conclusions that have evolved from this journey.

1. I am the woman that I am today because of the family I grew up in. I am not a product of my birth but of my life.
2. I spent my entire life feeling different from everyone. And I was. But my differences were not a result of being adopted. My differences are a blessing, a gift, a route to my becoming the diversity-craving person that I am today.
3. There are two people involved in an adoption reunion and although you know what you expect to get out of it, sometimes convincing the other party is not so easy.

What everyone else thinks about my decision to search or the outcome doesn't really matter to me. I could use so many cliches right here... the one about glass houses and that other one about walking a mile in my shoes... And they would all be relevant. The bottom line is that this is something I needed to do to be able to move on with my life. Coming full circle in the acceptance of ME has been an obstacle in my life for many years. The wondering has shrouded my ability to see a future for myself.

The journey may not be completely over but I know what I need to know. I received the confirmation that I needed. Just days after beginning, I called my mom (my REAL mom who raised me) and I said, "You know mom... I don't even feel adopted any more."

As crazy as that sounds it's true. Now, I just feel like Michele.

Send Your Comments, Questions, Suggestions...

Many of you have said that you'd rather not post comments on the site so there's now a way for you to deliver your comments, questions and suggestions directly to me.

Please email me at michelesingsit@yahoo.com.

ALL comments are welcome. If there's something you need to get off your chest, email away!

Thanks!

Michele

A Message Just For You

‘Tis the season for making dreams come true. And I am sure if you took a little time to ponder the possibilities you would realize that within your power lies an opportunity to make some dreams come true yourself.

‘Tis the season for believing. It’s the time of year, more than any other, when the spirit of optimism infiltrates our world and we start to believe that anything can happen. Anything CAN happen. Even for YOU.

So, I decided to write you a personal message giving you permission to do what you really want to do this season. Stop procrastinating. Don’t miss another opportunity, don’t waste another day considering, don’t sit back and wait for someone else to make the first move. Pick up the phone. Write a letter. Just show up and knock on the door.

No other time of year is more acceptable for making a fool of yourself for the sake of another. TAKE A CHANCE. For all you know that someone is too afraid to stop procrastinating and make the first move. That someone is hoping intensely that you will pick up the phone, write a letter or just show up and knock on the door.

Make someone’s dream come true. Make your own dream come true. You know you want to. And now, you have permission.

It's All About the Sexy

Last weekend, at a Christmas party in Kansas City, I had the pleasure of meeting a man with whom I would never go on a date. That's right, I said I had the pleasure of meeting him. Some people are created distinctively for purposes other than dating. But we won't go there right now...

I am fairly certain he will never find his way here so I will go ahead and give him his due. The man looked real good. Great smile, nice ass, clever conversation, reasonably successful... He's hot. The clever conversation eventually reeked of arrogance however and the great smile turn quickly into a sarcastic grin. The nice ass? I gotta call 'em like I feel 'em and his back side was nothing but fabulous.

Initial impressions would lead one to believe that this guy was THE catch at this party. So, I had to meet him. Not because I thought I could reel him in but I just had to find out if it was true. Without bashing the man, I have to say that I quickly discovered not that he was not the guy for me, but that I was CLEARLY not the girl for him. This was a man in need of a trophy girl. A petite, well-dressed, nicely-coifed 25 year-old would do. A girl just young enough and dumb enough to go along with his bullshit and hot enough that he could still have a good time. The more mature, wiser, confident, slightly plus-sized vixen that stood before him (that's me, by the way) was CLEARLY too much for him to handle.

So, in our first encounter, I very impolitely and crudely told him that I didn't like him. (I probably should apologize for that.) But I met him in the kitchen later where we struck up another brief conversation in which he corrected me on my first impression of him. He said, "You know, it's not about your size, it's about how sexy you are."

Shame on me! Shame on me for abandoning the crusade for equal love for the big girl by forgetting where I stand on this issue; for losing my head and losing my cool when presented with an opportunity to state our case! Shame on me for leaving it up to this incredibly fine but slightly arrogant man to remind me of the truth. It isn't about your size. It's all about the sexy.

Thanks Brian... I am back on track. Now let's work on the rest of the world.

That Thing You Can't Explain

Every woman has at least one unusual, inexplicable, just-plain-weird attraction to someone. He's not the guy who bowls you over with his boyish charm or his classic good looks. But, she's oddly attracted to him. It's that thing you can't explain.

Odd attractions come a dime a dozen for me. I always like the guy that nobody else is looking at. (I also happen to like the guys that everyone is looking at but that's beside the point.)Sometimes it takes a while for even me to find the odd man out attractive but you can bet that eventually, he'll catch my attention.

Notable odd attractions of mine include Tom Arnold and David Letterman. I think deep down I might have a thing for guys with imperfect teeth. I can't explain it.

One thing I can tell you, however, is that ALL WOMEN have these unusual, inexplicable, just-plain-weird attractions. I have a friend who admitted once to loving Drew Carey and another gal I know loves Snoop Dogg. Somewhere out there are Bill Gates groupies and women swooning over the crooning of William Hung. It's that thing you just can't explain.

But I wonder... Is this just a woman thing? Or do you think that somewhere, men are sharing their odd attractions with one another and we women just don't know it?

Think of it... A guy meets his friends at the local watering hole and says, "Man I just can't explain it but I think I've got a thing for the lady that does my dry cleaning?" Or they gather at the water cooler at work to discuss Bob's new thing for the Fed Ex Delivery chick. Or maybe there's a really great guy sitting at the hockey game with friends who-- although he has a hot, skinny, blonde girlfriend at home-- has an undenyable thing for the National Anthem singer. "Dude, I can't explain it but I just can't stop thinking about that big girl who sang the anthem..."

Okay, okay... maybe it's all just wishful thinking. But I am starting to believe that it's that thing that you can't explain that might be the thing that is most worth your time.

My Cousin, My Friend

Two of my favorite pictures preserve a memory of a deep and treasured friendship. When I was born, he was 2-1/2 years old. I was always big for my age and he was a bit on the small and skinny side. He was blonde and I had very dark brown hair. Most of all, he was a boy and I was a girl. No matter though. He was one of my very best friends and I loved him very much.

From the moment my parents brought me home, my cousin Kevin peered anxiously into my crib, helped me hold my bottle and entertained me endlessly. Once I was old enough to follow him around, I did.

We played with our grandpa's dog and built race tracks for our hot wheels in the dirt pit in the yard. And we went on the greatest adventures. With shovels in hand, we hurried to the yard where we planned to start digging a tunnel to China. Eventually, we grew tired of digging and retired to the family room where we hung out in our fort built with blankets and my mom's kitchen chairs.

One year, for my birthday, I received a book about the United States. Every two-page spread covered a different state. The information on each state included the state bird, the state flower and much more. That book became our guide to even more adventures. Kevin and I took turns picking our destination. Then, we'd climb up on the end of my bed, hang our legs over the footboard and take off! Sometimes we were drove a truck through the mountains or we soared through the skies in a plane over the Grand Canyon. Kevin and I have been everywhere together.

As we grew up, we grew apart. But at every point in my life that has carried significant meaning, Kevin has been there. Now that we are in our 30's, we hug again and we are sure to say "I love you" on at least the holidays. One night, in the 8th inning of a baseball game, Kevin stood up from where we had been sitting with some friends and decided to head home early. As he pushed through the row, he paused to hug me and tell me that he loves me. Everyone around us was amazed because I had been introducing him as my cousin all night. A stranger felt the need to remind me how special that was. But I already knew.

Any time I think about settling for less than what I need or deserve, Kevin shows up somewhere with a moment like that. And he reminds me of my worth, even though he probably doesn't realize it.

Things A Man Should Know

This is a topic upon which we cannot dwell enough. Call me old fashioned... Call me the anti-feminist... Call me CRAZY... But it wouldn't be the first time and, quite frankly, it wouldn't be enough to cause me to waver from my firm stance. There are certain things that a man should just know.

A man should know something about cars. Knowing where to put the gas is not enough. At the very least, he should be able to change a tire and he should know how to check the oil. Interpreting any of the myriad of sounds that can come forth from the car at any given time is a bonus.

A man should know how to handle tools. Wielding a hammer, turning a screwdriver or handling a pile driver... The handy man is the sexy man as far as I am concerned. He shouldn't be afraid to try new tools but he also should know when a project at home requires a more experienced handy hand.

A man should know his limits. Not only where his tools and his home projects are concerned but in all things, a man should know when to say when.

A man should know sports. When you walk into an establishment with televisions, he should be checking the score of WHATEVER game is on. And he should play at least one sport, preferably a sport with some sort of contact but that is not an absolute must.

A man should know what makes his woman happy. He should know that her favorite candy is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, that she loves to walk in the warm Spring rain and that sometimes she just needs a hug.

Speaking of hugs, a man should know how to give long, comforting hugs. A man should know the difference between a kiss on the forehead moment and a slow, sweet kiss moment--because there is a difference.

A man should know when it is time to take out the trash. He shouldn't have to be told. In fact, a man would save himself a lot of grief if he would learn the art of anticipation. A man should know how to anticipate.

This is not to say that a woman shouldn't know these things. Of course she could. But some things are just better when left to a man.

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