The Long Road of Blog
“It’s as though I were living at last in my eyes, as I have always dreamed of doing, and I think then I know why I’ve come here: to see, and so to go out against new things—oh god how easily—like air in a breeze. It’s true there are moments—foolish moments, ecstasy on a tree stump—when I’m all but gone, scattered I like to think like seed…”
William Gass, In the Heart of the Heart of the Country
A Class on Value and Money for Adoptees with Joyce Maguire Pavao and Me
After a lifetime of avoiding difficult conversations, I have found my deepest joys in walking straight through doorways that look as if they are on fire.
The Body, the Mother, Music, and the Right Place
I heard You Don’t Look Adopted before I wrote it.
Abandoning Adoptee and Shifting to Trouble
I was thinking the other day how great it is to walk into fear.
Breathing and Being an Adopted Person -- Writings from Class
I decided to ask my writing class of adopted people to write for 20 minutes on their breath.
Adoption and Connection
The last morning of my online retreat, I asked the participants what they needed or what they wanted more of that day. Most people said Connection.
A Taste of Retreat -- Your Sadness, Dear Mother, Is Not My Legacy
I hadn’t realized I’d believed in this legacy and my obligation to bear it until I’d done this exercise—I’d just assumed it was a weight that was part of me, like my arm spine or my liver.
You Are Not My REAL Mother
Today on her Instagram feed, the therapist Amanda Vaughn (Amanda_Vaughn_Therapy) quoted a parent saying “My worst fear as a non-biological parent is the day my child says, ‘You’re not my REAL mother.’”
Me and Little Me Were Walking Down the Street
I had the experience the other day, yet again, of catching my reflection in the window of my car and having the startling stomach-drop feeling of wrong wrong wrong.
Grief, Regret, Adoption, and Freedom
By the way, The Passenger is rife with really bad, crude jokes. I was so shocked at the first one I read it three time. Brilliance AND bathroom humor?? What more could I ask for?
You Can't Write Badly Even When You Try--for Ruth Who Had to Work
I think for some people, maybe everyone in my class, writing badly means sounding like yourself.