If I am thin, if my body is in control, if I don’t ask for too much, if I am clean, if I don’t make too much noise, if I don’t upset you, will you keep me? Will you love me like you would love a real child? A real person? 

I am living in abundance. My body and mind are working to acclimate.

I think a lifetime of wishing my mom would think she was as beautiful as I thought she was has made me a crazy person.

Love matters.

It was the word devotion that changed everything for me, not the word love.

This post is one big reminder to self: don’t live on auto-pilot. Try harder.

I celebrated the start of my birthday on the Nordic Trak, listening to the opening of She Sells Sanctuary by the Cult on repeat.

Dear, sweet Carole, I feel like the best thing I can do for you is to offer my hand. When your root base is uncertain, it is contact with friends and family of your own choosing that help keep an adoptee who feels rootless from wanting to die. I will hold your hand your entire life.

I have worked with people who more than almost anything want to tell their story and who are frozen by the fear that if they tell their truth, they will lose people they love.

I love Tim O’Brien’s book The Things We Carried because he tried to write the impossible, a true war story.

The other day I was talking to an adoptee about speaking publicly, on a stage, about adoption. “The problem with that,” she said, “is that then I would have to listen.”

I have never acted more privileged or entitled than when I approached my birth parents.