I'm BAAACK. And even more obsessed.

It's that time of year again- the time that I begin to obsess about my birth mother and my blood relatives period. It's that time that I begin to let my imagination run wild and take over the rationale that engulfs my mind on occasion.  So, I decided that I would call Debi and ask her if she would be interested in helping me find my birth father, and she was right on it, like Madonna to a pre-pubescent boy. There are a few pictures that she sent to me of  a particular unknowing dentist that could be blood father. We look eerily alike, with even the same gap between our front teeth. I'm not getting any hopes up. He supposedly knew nothing of me from the start, why would he care to know me now. Even my own blood mother didn't want anything to do with me then and still doesn't today which is painful to say the least. I will post the pictures tomorrow if I gain enough nerve. I am going to bed. All this thinking is making my head hurt. 

What now? It's been over a year.

To call or not to call. That is the question.

Have you ever been lost in the woods? I have. It was scary and surreal-one minute admiring the beauty of nature spilling all throughout my colorful lush surroundings, climbing up massive and steep hills to delicate declines that were quite tolerable. The next minute, my eyes darting every which way and seeing no one, not recognizing anything, no trees with funny elbows or a trail that winded just so leading me to my friends or anyone for that matter. At first I did not worry. I felt a sense of love come over me, a oneness with the nature that was engulfing my every move, watching and protecting my steps, my heart in sync with it all. The sun was beaming through the empty spots of brown and orange and yellow, lashing out as if it was speaking to me. "Move. Now." So I moved.

I began to hike down and up and down and stopped at a cross in the trail, so I could capture the beauty of some moss that had taken residence on a tree vein as if it was a diamond on a wedding band. My mind began to race, thinking of what my daughter would be thinking. She was only 4, and separated from her only mother. Would she be crying? Would she understand the magnitude of the situation, that her mother was missing? Where were my friends? Had they just left me or had I wandered off? What were they thinking? Did they even miss me? How long  was it before they noticed I was not with them?

As I began to delicately yell for help, my throat became dry. I was suddenly parched. I needed water. I became hungry, and my legs grew sore. Was this something that I was really feeling? Or were these symptoms of a self-inflicted misery? I knew I would emerge from this mountain chaos. There were no mountain lions that I saw, and none that I even dreamed up. I was not worried about mingling with the wild animals, but something else was getting into my mind. Something was manifesting. It was man-made fear and loathing. I was not only lost on a map, but I was further gone from reality than I had ever been, further than any drug induced haze or drunken stupor had ever left me. I was mentally paralyzed and it was somehow freeing in its own right.

I was in control of my thoughts. I knew it. I was in total control of my psychological state, but I chose to be miserable. I made the decision to cry, to worry, to sink into myself, and ultimately run. I ran far and fast. I couldn't get away and get there fast enough. It was a strange and beautiful time. There is no way for me to explain that hour that I spent wandering aimlessly through the forest, but to equate it with this...

I have been evading the escape. I know what needs to be done one minute, but the paralysis invades me the next. Managing multiple mindsets is hard. One minute I think Colette needs some space, and the next I think she needs a space invader. We are at a stand still, never left that spot in history, and by the looks now, we will be there until I make a move.

I'm not sure how all of this ties in or makes sense to anyone else, but Karen will help me sort through all of this pain of rejection, again. I will be made whole, by God's hand, by my own mind. Living a sober life is good. It's eye opening. I'm constantly faced with new ways of making the circle whole, and it's pretty amazing to see how things play out, how I work things out from a clear minded perspective. I'm excited for the next chapter in my life. I'm glad to have a new day, and not worry about it until it gets here. Life is good. God is good. Being adopted is becoming more manageable in its unmanagability.