Blood and Water (part 2)

How do you know when to hold on or let go? 

 For the last 10 years, I've been pursing communication with my biological family in hopes of meeting them one day. Sporadic emails over time seemed to be leading up to that point until a few months ago when I received the translation of my father's most recent email that may change the course of everything... 

I tried to write about it all just days after, but found I had to walk away from it all for a while. I had no answers, and still don't; however, one thing I've learned through this process is that the possibility exists that perhaps all of that searching was just to find that I no longer needed to be searching. 

I have people that love me, want me in their lives, and will make every effort to be in contact with me regardless of how busy they are. Why should I continue chasing after a "family" that would easily fall away as soon as I cease to make any effort? 

Sure, people have their arguments that I need to find my roots, and I agree to a point; however, not everyone's story is the same. Perhaps, just perhaps, it's ok if my roots were transplanted and I'm happy with where I'm grounding now.

Many of us have the driving need to have closure to every situation, but life doesn't always give us the closed ending for which we hope. Sometimes we have to learn to be ok with an outcome that ends with an ellipses instead of a period.

In this case, for now, I'm letting it go. I have the opportunity to build a family here with people I love and who love me in return. After a decade of chasing what's left me continually feeling confused, drained and empty, I'd rather pour myself into what will contribute to making my life happy and full.

Maybe one day I'll resume pursing my bloodline, or maybe I'll find that what I have here is enough in and of itself. 

"The old saying goes that we all have two families—the one we’re born with, and the one we find along the way. For some of us, the family we’ve found is everything, and enough."

(From the article: My Modern Family)

Blood and Water

The last 10 days have been quite a roller coaster of emotions, and I'm still working on processing it all. 

I found a translator to make communication with my biological father easier (well, possible), and it's been relieving and frustrating and heartbreaking all at the same time. When I first found my biological family, the adoption agency had translated a few letters, and it was brought up that they want me to visit Seoul.

Nearly 10 years later, I'm finally entertaining the possibility of actually doing so. The idea of it scares me for several reasons. Heading to a country where I can't even fudge my way through understanding the language because I have zero idea of what the characters mean is the first hang up. Secondly, I have a non-existent sense of direction. How am I going to figure out where I'm going in this incredibly foreign country? Finally, I can conceptually imagine what it would be like to meet my father, mother, and 3 older sisters, but I know without a doubt the actual experience is something I won't be able to prepare for on any level. Then, to top it off, going back to the language thing- I'll be in front of these people who hold a large chunk of my identity and I won't be able to say a word they understand nor they to me. 

But, like my friend said today, "communication is in body language, sharing a meal, spending time with them." I said I wasn't ready. He told me my time is running out. I take for granted that we live in the United States where the way we live and work is vastly different from the way the poor in a country like South Korea work. The reality is that my parents are getting older, they've led hard lives, and their health is already beginning to fail. 

In this case, I don't know that there is a "right" moment- the right moment is me going in spite of my fear, in spite of not feeling ready. The likelihood of feeling ready to meet the blood from which I came is probably slim. So, this year, I won't wait for the elusive opportune moment. I will go visit my biological family and face a history that was, until now, only loosely sketched out on paper.

When There's No Going Back

I've been home for 9 days now. It's a strange mix of feeling comforted by the familiar and sad that what I used to be so much a part of, I am now becoming an increasingly vague memory. I knew that would happen. Such is the nature of leaving- the spaces you once filled must necessarily be filled with something or someone else.

Some of them, anyway. There are a precious few spaces that I know will contain only me no matter how long I am gone from them. One of those spaces I am currently inhabiting, literally and figuratively, as I write this entry.

Family and home have always been elusive concepts for me; I've never really felt as though I belonged anywhere. My most comfortable place still possesses an element of disengagement because at the heart of it, I know it's not mine. This home welcomes me with open arms and hearts each time I come back, and here is where I take refuge from the rest of the world now that I don't have my own space, but when it's all said and done, I will depart and their lives will be unaffected that I'm gone; as it should be.

But I can't help but want something of my own- something that subconsciously brings a smile to my face because I know it's where I'm meant to be. That something could be a career, a place, a hobby, a passion... something that belongs with me and me with it.

A few days ago, I received an email in Korean text from my biological father. I plugged it into Google Translate (I know, I know- that does a horrible job, but it gives at least some inkling as to what he's said) and he apparently made some reference to when they gave me up. I've received a few like that before, but this time it felt different- it was frustrating and left me feeling as though a giant chunk of my identity is tied up in another country in a language I don't understand... because it is. It's strange to think that there are people out there who are intimately tied to me biologically, and I can't even have a small talk conversation with them. They wanted me to be sent to a country where I would stick out- where I would know I didn't belong so I would find them one day. Their plan worked- I did find them, and in turn, opened a whole different level of searching for meaning in family, home, and belonging.

Which brings me back to now. Part of me wonders if my search for somewhere to belong is the result of nearly 29 years of knowing I was sent to a place where I would perpetually stick out. In some ways, I'm lucky because without that sense of displacement, I don't know that I would have been driven to travel as much as I have or been as adamant about how important it is to live in a way that makes sense to me, even if everyone else thinks it's crazy.

People have asked me if I regret any of the choices I've made (like quitting my job), and for me, it seems like a pointless question because my choices were made and consequences are playing out. I can't go back and change what I did in the past, and frankly, I wouldn't want to. Of course I'm anxious sometimes because of all of the unknowns I invited into my life, but I also invited infinite opportunity. For example, I know that if I wouldn't have moved to Colorado, my search into my identity wouldn't have the depth it does now. I have no idea where that will lead, but I can only imagine a positive outcome.

(A Few) Things I Learned the Last 3 Months

After 3 incredibly long but fast-moving months, I'm going back to the place where the journey all began. I'm going back for a break, to rest, to sleep, to eat, to train, to enjoy being who and what I am without every.single.thing.I.say.and.do being weighed, analyzed, and judged. 

I'm going back to the place I hated for so long to find my safe place because many of my safe places are contained in human form; in the faces of my friends and family who are there waiting for my return. Sometimes, you have to leave a place to find what you love about it. 

  

That said, for those who are wondering, I have no plans to move back to PA anytime soon. I've realized how much I value and miss those whom I love, but I still have yet to find what I left seeking. Sounds pretty vague, huh? I know, and I can assure you, it's as frustrating for me as it may be for you. But in the words of Steve Jobs, "as with all matters of the heart, you'll know it when you find it." I don't know exactly what I'm looking for- I just know I had to leave to find it, whatever "it" is... a job, an adventure, a love, a new way of living.... the possibilities are endless. Maybe I'll find all of them. 

Another thing I have discovered is that my obsession with travel wasn't confined only to daydreams within my cube walls. My mind still wanders to far off places and dreams of meeting new people and learning how they live, work, eat, celebrate, mourn, and play. I imagine staring into vast blue oceans, exploring dirty dusty streets, climbing terrifyingly high mountains, and taking in views that would take my breath away while redefining how I perceive myself and my place in the world. 

For now, I have no big trips planned. My only focus is to go home to see my family. "Home" and "family" have also taken on new meanings as I hear the students' stories and re-analyze my own. Generic as it may sound, home has nothing to do with the location, and everything to do with the people.  Family isn't only about who gave birth to you, or necessarily even who raised you or who grew up with you- it's who holds your heart and you theirs. It's who loves you without pretense, without inhibition, and with everything they have. 

I'm going home to see my family.