The Ordinary Ride that Turned Extraordinary

The other morning, we were in merging in traffic on the freeway in Charlotte, which as usual, is under construction, and as usual, there was someone who failed to let me in. Obviously, I made it, but not without some teeth grinding and growling. 

After all, it was 8:30 and I was on my first cup of java with cream, no sugar. Sarah was in tow. We were on the way to school, and for some reason, I was not feeling my normal chipper self. Maybe it was the traffic. Maybe it was the fact that we were late again, our gold standard. It doesn't usually bother me though. It does, however, bother most others I've learned the hard way.

I am not a morning person- meaning I do not have an easy time hopping out of bed. Once up however, I'm "annoyingly cheery," an ex once told me. This morning was not really different from most mornings, only I was deflated. And I was letting things bother me that shouldn't. Ie. traffic, running out of peanut butter- things like that. To me, those are silly things that have no business influencing one's mood. 

Here I sat, gripping the wheel as if strangling wet clothes, letting all the wrinkles dance across my forehead while furrowing my brow, and not singing along with my favorite song on the radio. It was a self-inflicted misery. And I was the only one to blame. 

What happened next changed everything. 

I looked over to my right, and what I saw brought me to tears of joy. There was a teenage girl leaning her head against the window in the car she was riding in. Removed from the conversation in the front seat, she had soft red hair, with skin like ivory. She looked me dead in the eyes, and smiled a gentle smile- at me! Not at someone else. Not in response to what may have been playing through her ear buds, but she smiled directly at me. 

That's all I needed, and it just about melted my heart. That smile felt different- like a Godsend, like an angel had just smiled at me. In that singular moment, which probably lasted about 3 seconds, I felt loved. I felt worthy, noticed, appreciated, and relieved. I wasn't alone. Life wasn't that bad. And all it took was one small act of kindness.  (And it was from a teenager of all people!!!! They do have feelings! Gasp!)

She didn't pause to think whether or not she should smile at me. She didn't look the other way, pretending that she hadn't looked dead at me. There was no ignoring. Just a plain smile. And she will never know how her smile, her random act of kindness, improved me in that fleeting moment. 

Sure, we get that feeling from babies, and small children who are being dragged around by their rushing parents. Sometimes we might get an unprompted smile from someone across the room, someone in passing on the street, but not like that. 

That was intentional. 

Living intentionally is the only way to be grounded, to become your greatest you. I believe that we influence our moods, and we choose happiness, and it starts as small as a smile. 

 Because sometimes, that's all it takes. 

Empathy makes it challenging to smile when someone you know is sad, but that's what we need sometimes. It takes a special person to be able to do that. Those people are rare, and when you find one like that, you better cherish that relationship. 

Through broken hearts and tears, I've learned that there are some people who we are better off without, and others that I didn't value enough. It's funny how something as simple as a smile can drive thoughts like these. I'm so glad I had that moment. 

If I didn't ever feel sadness, I wouldn't value joy. 

My close friend, Charity tells me all the time, "You have to embrace the darkness. Without it you'd never know the light." She's right. 

I have never experienced a smile with impact like that before, and I thought I would share it. Who did you smile at today? I'd love to hear some responses to this. Have you ever experienced a moment like that? Tell us about it. 

The birth father who never got the chance to decide

I emailed Colette again last Thursday. To sum it up, I basically told her that I want her to tell me who my birth father is, and with or without her help I will find out who he is. Knowing this, she might be worried about her reputation. After all, she is the spokesperson of some pretty big college in her neck of the woods, and one that I've heard is widely known in the eastern part of the state. To my knowledge, she never told him about her pregnancy. He very well might know absolutely nothing about my existence. Shoot, he might live in Charlotte even. It's the largest city in the state of North Carolina, which means it has the most opportunity for opening a dental practice. My birth father, 24 at the time, was in his second year of dental school when Colette got pregnant. It would behoove one to move to the largest populated city in the state in which one holds a license to practice dentistry, which I am told, is only good for the state in which you studied, unless of course you take the exam in another state. People do move after all. We are not bound to only live in one state thankfully.  There are so many dental practices in Charlotte, one in particular, which I have the strangest feeling about, one that my orthodontist had mentioned as well.

He was so puzzled by my strange request of him, but he seemed genuinely interested in my story when I told it to him last week, as I was sitting in his chair, picking out colors of my future retainer. I felt 13 again. I went with clear I think. At 36, the last thing you want people to notice about you is the strange looking colored metal piece in your mouth. I have a slight gap between my front teeth that bothers me enough to pay for a new retainer and to wear it in public. I say this now, but I'm imagining it will most likely be worn in my bed as I sleep, and definitely not as I'm doing other more playful things in my bed- you know those things that grown-ups like to do. My gap has bothered me here and there, but I have been pretty comfortable with it until recently, when Debi sent me a picture of all of the graduating class of UNC-Dental School of 1978, and low and behold, there was a picture of my past (and future) orthodontist, Dr. Webb. Wow. He might have gone to dental school with my father. That was good enough reason to have a more bothersome feeling about my unruly gap in my front teeth. After all, that gap could stand between me and a great job one day. I must have it looked at. It's imperative. Madonna made the gap cool. She can keep it. I'll go for the mod.

As I walked into his new building, which was more state of the art than ever, more ying to the yang than I recall his last office being, I couldn't help but think, "Brooke, don't forget to ask him about dental school. Don't forget you forgetful Nancy. You could screw up a wet dream. Don't screw this up. You don't want him thinking you just came in to pick his brain about dental school either." He was probably later scratching his head thinking just that after both Debi and I had bombarded him with emails that had attachments galore. He emailed back that day, which was surprising. Doctors of teeth rarely work, I assumed they rarely returned emails as well. Turns out, I was wrong. 

He told me that there were only 81 in his graduating class, and he would know all of them. He is the social type, very flittery, not in a gay way. If you saw his stature, you might understand. He is bite size, and his voice, very soft. He appeared to be genuinely happy to see me, although I was a bit surprised that he even remembered me. Unlike most of my friends, I only wore braces for about a year or so. I swear I think they keep you in braces longer than need be just so they can keep charging your parents because God knows insurance is a joke when it comes to orthodontics. That would be unethical, and it's probably pretty offensive that I even wrote that, but it's not unbelievable, and I'm sure it has happened a time or two, maybe not by Dr. Webb, but by some schmuck. 

If anyone would know someone, I would think it would be Dr. Webb. He just seems like the kind of guy that would know everyone. And judging by his response, I was right. He said he even knew the class that graduated before him, that they all shared lockers in the dental school. SCORE! My wicked plan worked. 

He gave me his email and the communication began. I am leary though now, and wished I had been a little more hesitant. He said he had a friend from Kinston, that's where the birth mother is from, and that he was going to call him to find out what he knew. OK. That's taking it a little too far. I don't know that I want her name smeared all around town. Kinston is very small I imagine, probably a town as big as Monroe. I don't know the coordinates or population, but my imagination is vivid, and I can just see what the downtown looks like- with its red brick two story Walgreen's on the southeastern facing corner and the Tru Value Hardware Store soaking up the opposite corner of Main Street.

He asked me to send him a copy of my birth certificate. Now that sounds strange to me. Why on earth would he want that? Does he not understand the logic behind my line of questioning? Does he think I know a name? If I had a name on the birth certificate would I not just Google him? I let him in on how things were done back then, that the original birth certificates for adopted babies went down an assembly line, where they were stamped with a big REJECTED and then ended in a giant fiery tomb that was filled with thousands of lost socks, only to be incinerated for good. The babies that were alive were then renamed and sent to live with weirdos who just wanted a paycheck from the state, until they were adopted by hopefully loving families, like mine. Obviously, that's not entirely how it works, but that's the feeling that I got based on my fruitless search to find my birth certificate at the vital records office that one day last summer. 

When I mentioned to Dr. Webb that my father was described as very athletic, and 6'2 with blonde hair and blue eyes, a look came over his face that made me feel uneasy. It was like he had seen a ghost, like he immediately knew who I was talking about, which leads me to believe that is why he wants a copy of the birth certificate. Maybe the person who he thinks it could be, he had contacted that afternoon. Maybe the "could be father" wanted proof, and he asked Dr. Webb for the birth certificate in disbelief. Dr. Webb said he was going on vacation this week. Shocker. A dentist going on vacation on July 4th? I might be a horrible communicator in person, and put my foot in my mouth all the time, saying inappropriate things at inopportune times, but if there's one thing I can do well- it's read people. I know people, maybe not everyone, maybe not the guy I'm currently dating, but damn it, I know most people. I have the knack for figuring people out. Call it intuition. Call it whatever you want to call it. But I saw something flicker in his eye when I described the possible birth father. It was like a light went on in his head. His eyes screamed it, and my radar picked up his signals. Whether or not anything will come of this, we won't know until we know. But I have a feeling that he might know more than I think. 

Since I have slightly given up hope on Colette ever reaching out to me, slowly tackling this rejection day by day, I decided that it might be a safer bet to find the birth father. Men, in general, are more direct, and once I find out who he is, and take the plunge, I will know pretty quickly his response. Women, I've noticed, like to think things out longer than men. I could expand on my theory of why that is, but I will spare you. You could say I am slightly prompted by Debi's constant, but gentle push to find him. She is the searcher who found my birth mother. And it was within a month that she found her. Granted, it might have been easier to find her, by no means was it easy, but being given the county of the birth mother's birth, it gave her a solid foundation to start from, and to ultimately arrive at. 

We know the birth father is/was 6'2, had blonde hair, a dark complexion, enjoyed bike riding, and was musically gifted. It was said in the papers (my flimsy adoption papers that the state of North Carolina has deemed appropriate enough to give most adoptees who were born in closed adoptions as far back as it has been legal, and probably still to this day) that the birth father did not know of the pregnancy. There is something so wrong with that scenario, something so intrinsically wrong, so backwards, so just...just...disgusting about that. I can't describe my feelings on that. Pregnancies that stem from rape, incest, molestation, any other sick methods I have not covered included, I can see as a good enough reason to hide a pregnancy, but when you are in college, you have two consenting adults who are of sound mind and body, and both mature adults, who think they are mature enough to make a decision like that, to hide a pregnancy- I just don't understand the mentality. I have wrapped my mind around it so many ways. What would motivate someone to do such a thing? What could be so bad that a woman would not tell a man- a young, intelligent, motivated man the truth- that he has super sperm, that he got her pregnant. My thoughts immediately go to the obvious. Maybe she cheated on him with some random frat boy at a mixer. Maybe they drank too many Milwaukee's Best can beers. Many college students' couldn't afford Fat Tire, and when you are underage or even legal age and drinking and in college, your soft pallet is not the driving factor with regard to alcoholic consumption. Anyone who drank in college most likely knows that is a sad truth. Maybe she hooked up with her boyfriend's best friend or roommate, not unheard of, pretty embarrassing for both parties, but nothing worthy of committing yourself to a lifetime of shame and hiding, pretending. Maybe she was raped. Maybe not. She claimed that the birth father was in dental school. To me, anyone who is intelligent enough to get into dental school, forget about the dedication, anyone who is bright enough for that, would be a good candidate for a father and husband. 

Maybe she is was so hung up on appearances that the thought of herself being unwed and pregnant, or worse, a single mother (gasp), was so horrifying that she could not even think about it. Maybe she didn't even think it out at all. Maybe she rushed into her decision. Who knows what motivated Colette to give me up for adoption without even asking my birth father's opinion. At this point, it doesn't matter. What's done is done. Although, I have to think that might be hindering her from meeting me, or at least making any sort of communication. She might be so ashamed of her actions as an inexperienced 21 year old, that she can't face it today. She can't face me- her own daughter. Now she has some maturity and some life experience behind her and maybe, just maybe, she might do things differently today. I know my decisions at age 21 would not be equivalent to the ones that I make now. But at age 21, I sure would have thought I was doing the right thing. At that age, you know everything, right? At least I did. And I was never wrong. God forbid accept responsibility for your actions. Never. I was always right, and you were always wrong. That's the way a small mind works, and at age 21, you are very small. That was her age when she was pregnant with me- 21.

I decided to go email the last time because email is direct and instantaneous so to speak, once you hit send, there is no doubt it gets to the recipient unless you get that return email of course from Mailer Daemon, whoever that is. Mailer Demon would be more fitting if you ask me. I told her that I was going to look now for my birth father, and if she would just give me his name then it would make things so much easier. Easier for who I'm imaging she was thinking. Well duh, easier for me. I think she's had enough say so in the matter as it stands. She made the decision that should have been shared between two minds. She has kept my existence a secret for long enough. It's time to come clean. My thoughts on this situation are rapidly getting more aggressive towards Colette as I'm typing this and in such a hurried fashion. I'm starting to feel resentment, rejection, and frankly, I'm starting to get pissed. 

I guess this evolution of events surrounding my birth, or summation of non-events as it currently stands, is turning out to be more of a hassle than anything else. I am using good brain power, soaking up many hours thinking and writing about this, and I must say, it's pretty lame. I feel like a hot mess, like I'm a dog chasing a firetruck, like a stranded passenger at an airport who just watched the gate close as she was running faster than hell down the corrider to sneak in just in the nick of time. I feel like that cup of coffee that got left in the microwave, not forgotten just once, but twice now. At any rate, hurt or healthy, I will survive all of this mess because I am survivor. Just like Lady Gaga, I was born that way. I will move on from this time in my life with a new perspective, and one day I will look back and say, I learned from that. Because learning from your experiences helps us to grow as souls and without reflecting on our past suffering we are not actualizing our losses which in essence create room for even bigger scores. Life is short. Hug yourself. 

fo sho....i guess you can never be too real....

Dear Colette,

I'm going to preface this letter with this: I intend on being completely honest right now. It doesn't happen daily and I don't think I'd be lying if I said that most people aren't honest routinely with the people they love the most. I don't obviously love you the most. I would like to know you enough to love you though.

I don't know if you have any idea what it has been like for me my whole life- the wondering where I came from, the being clueless to who I am because I never felt like I fit in, always feeling like a Viagra commercial-  you know it's coming, you just don't know when.  Genetics is no joke. 

I'm not going to bore you with the hum-drum normalness that you probably fully expected to hear from someone like me, someone like your daughter that you don't know and have rejected a few times now, so Ill try to keep this interesting.

I am trying to be positive and patient regarding you and what possibilities we might have together, but I want you to know that it's getting hard. I know that life is sometimes a blood sucker. People are blood suckers. And I often find myself stuck in evil webs people weave. I weave them sometimes. No one's perfect. Sometimes, I find myself wanting to linger in bed a little too long on Saturday morning when Sarah is crying to me that she can't reach the top shelf for the cereal that I should be serving her, while I'm more concentrated on getting that crack in the curtains covered because I stayed up too late the night before. My Mom has called me 3 times by noon, leaving messages that include words and phrases like, "worried" and "please call me when you can." She's got guilt inducing down to a science without any intention of it at all, I'm sure. I want to crawl under my desk at work on most days, and the days that I don't, I can't explain why I feel so good. Hormones are nothing to joke around about either. And from what I hear, they never go away, except when you wish they would stay longer. So, I'll say I get irritated just as easily and I run out of patience just as quick as the next girl. OK, I might have slightly more patience. I'll give myself that. But I am easily swayed. Probably very true.

I'm telling you these things about me, so that you will understand somewhat what I am like- how I am, how my brain operates, and hopefully, so that you might have some inkling of relation to any of it. Like I said before, genetics is no joke.

There are lots of things I would like to share with you about who I am, about what my life has been like growing up versus my adult life, my family life, my friends, my love life, my career, the evolution of who I am, who I identify myself as. These are things that I find it hard to understand that you wouldn't care about even 36 years later. I know that you have moved on. I know that it was unimaginably hard for you to move on with your life after my birth. I had a friend, who sadly died at a young age from an asthma attack, Danielle, who gave a child up for adoption at age 19. She didn't get over it. She died at 25 probably. And I have no doubt that her pain put her in an early grave. It did that to my father too, when my younger brother died at age 20. I was amazingly OK. I knew that God was with me, and my faith, even though I didn't go to church regularly, and didn't live my life the right way, was strong enough to carry me through the pain. I don't know if you ever lost anyone at a young age...maybe me, actually. OK, I imagine you are aware of the pain associated with loss.  Anyway...I'm not here to make you cry. I'd rather make you SMILE!

I want you to realize that people will forgive you. People love you. Despite their lack of understanding on a deeper level at times, or despite yours, people actually love you, and love entails forgiveness, and reminding them of their need for forgiveness is OK....even if it does play on their occasionally overlooked guilt. =) I'm not suggesting you guilt trip everyone- just your sons, and maybe brothers and sisters. That's a semi-joke.

If I can please confess something: I haven't told my mom that I wrote to you, now three times. I don't want her to feel threatened or upset for me, or worse, upset for herself- in fear that I may love her any less, or you more. I have told most everyone else. I understand your need for figuring things out, but when the time comes, I am ready to tell my mother that I will be meeting you, if that's your choice. (I hope it is, or you will receive a lot of hate mail from me. just kidding, kind of) She will understand because she loves me regardless of the stupid things I have done in my life, and regardless of the impending future of stupidity that might suffocate the good choices- just as your family will probably understand that you were scared and alone feeling, and although you might not have been, and never may actually have been alone except in your mind, they have probably felt the same way, and will most likely be understanding. And, this might sound bitchy, but if they are not understanding and loving of your situation, they might be assholes to begin with- negating any real reason for inhibition.

I hope you can understand that I have my own life already. I have a family. I have a daughter. I have a good job, with a company that loves me (We (me and Allie) called you one day and pretended we were donating money...I'm sorry. Allie wanted me to apologize to you about the $500.00 donation you never received. I had to hear your voice at least since I've never seen you in person. Forgive me for being so intrusive. If it was me, I would be flattered. You might be scared, but I'm not scary. I'm still your daughter. I can't be THAT weird. Well, I don't know you...=))

Nancy doesn't think I'm weird. Although she refuses to talk to me anymore. I'm guessing that's because you blew up at her. What was she to do? Put yourself in her shoes. Imagine you had the chance to reunite loved ones who never had the chance to know each other....you wouldn't do it? You wouldn't think twice, take a chance, do what you felt was right in your heart? You can't be angry at someone who did what you would have done given the chance.

I would be surprised if you wouldn't. That's your prerogative. It was hers. She felt like she was doing what was right at the time. And if you can get past that, past your hiding, past your pain, you can realize that nothing in this world is done maliciously without God having his beautiful hands on it fixing it just as quickly, and, me finding you was never set out with malicious intent- know that.

I hope that you can sit here and read this note with an open heart and likewise spirit. I want you to beable to get past your reservations and find strength to acknowledge that you made a very hard decision many years ago, that you knew it would always haunt you. I don't want to be a ghost. Please acknowledge me. I respect you. Please respect my feelings. I am hanging on the vine here. Please acknowledge that you got this. I love suspense novels, and am reading the widely acclaimed 50 Shades of Gray, but c'mon....I keep feeling left out in the cold...Please let me in....

Brooke

Shandies make everything better.

The first I've written in a few weeks, and I don't feel much. In fact, I think it would be safe to say I feel pretty numb right now. It could be the shandies. It could be the fact that it's 11:38pm and Ive officially declared myself weak. I'm not sure if numb is the right adjective or if it's the quickest descriptive word I could think of 2 seconds ago when my fingers were anxiously pounding away at this confounded keyboard again. Another night of spending time with a keyboard. Great! Is that what my life has silently amassed to? Or do I secretly covet time spent alone? Am I rushing to allow my fingers to do the walking, and no, this is not a yellow pages ad in 1987.

I had my girlfriends over tonight- two of my besties that I have made through my previous years working at the country club. They are amazing women, fully charged all the time, and both beautiful and strong. I don't tend to hang out with weaklings. Even the women that come to me intermittently,  for whatever reason in my life, however it is that they enter my life, are strong. I have never really been around anyone who is weak or wimpy.  Maybe it's that I never accepted weakness as an excuse. It could be that I have always had selective vision. That's kind of like selective hearing. You see what you want to see, and you hear what you want to hear- more formally known as denial, and we are not speaking of a river in Egypt.

Is denial a lower form of closed mindedness? Could it be higher? I wonder. It took me a few minutes to remember that chain of thought. I went to the bathroom, fixed another shandy, and then sat down to rethink that one for a second. It came right back. I wonder if every single thing in the world is not related somehow- whether it's completely moronic or highly intellectual. I won't expand on this right now, because it wouldn't be fair for me to not let you do it on your own.

The world can be BIG or small. It's important to remember that the likes of what you are surrounded by are most likely productions of your own existence, and you have much more control than you imagine.

Enjoy a moment now. Spend it reflecting.

I feel privileged to know that you read my writing, and take something from me that I couldn't give to you wrapped up in a pretty Carolina blue tweed purse with brown polka dots and a brown and white striped satin bow that came from Jo Malone and smelled equally as wonderful as her Orange Blossom parfum- only it's free. But it's never cheap.

Brooke

Exercising your Democratic Demons- VOTE TODAY

I know, voting has little to nothing to do with my adoption, but exercising your right to vote has everything to do with being American. I encourage everyone to vote today AGAINST Amendment One. You might be thinking, "and you claim to be Christian?" You might be thinking, "that is against the sanctity of marriage". WRONG. It's for LOVE.  It's FOR the freedom of choice God gave us when he made us. It's FOR keeping insurance for children of gay parents and for men and women living together who aren't gay, also referred to as common law marriage. Let me explain this further for those of you who have not read up on the issue- many of us haven't until recently, myself included.

Say I lived with Sarah's father still. Thank God I had the guts to get away from his pathetic excuse for a human being self when I did. (Sarah was one, when I finally grew a set. I was encouraged by many friends, but Boyce was with me when we took his things to his parents house and finally said, "SIANARA SUCKA". Thank you Boyce.)We were never married. But we lived together for 3 horrible, long years. Do I sound jaded? I'm not really. I can tolerate him now. Anywho, if I had gotten in a serious car accident, and there was a decision to be made on my health, God forbid, if there was a decision to be made on my life vs pulling a plug, Paul would not have been able to make that decision even though we lived together if this amendment would have been passed. He would also not have been able to have the insurance that he did through my company. When he cut his hand really badly at work he wouldn't have been able to afford health care so he probably wouldn't have gone to the hospital for treatment. If this amendment passes there is a very good possibility that many people who have insurance- including MANY children, under current domestic partnership acknowledgements, could and very most likely will lose their insurance. This is a very real threat to many Americans. The reason that this could happen is like this:

Example: Ameriprise Financial acknowledges domestic partnerships currently. There are many AMPF employees who receive benefits through this acknowledgement. Shareholder #34 doesn't agree with this. He doesn't think it's fair that he is paying for insurance for a couple that is "not married". He decides to sue AMPF for going against the NC Constitution by allowing non-married couples insurance. Therefore, AMPF, nationally will cut all insurance for all domestic partnerships cutting thousands upon thousands of families their benefits. Imagine if that was you and your child has spinibifida. You and your child lose insurance. Now what? She goes to Medicaid? What kind of insurance is that? Is that top of the line care? I doubt it. Don't you want the best for your child? Yes. The answer is always yes if you are normal.

The amount of lawsuits that will spring up from this amendment will be devastating and cause a trickle down effect. This will back up the courts. This will cause loss of productivity. This will cause longer wait times on hold with your insurance company (an insignificant value, but an effect nonetheless). This will cause inflation because so many people will not be able to afford quality health care, and will be looking to Medicaid for support. This will cause taxes to increase. This is devastating to the country. I didn't touch on many other reasons.

This amendment is also discriminatory. It screams, "We don't care about you. You are not worth as much as we are." It's demoralizing, and downright wrong.

There are so many reasons I'm voting against the amendment.

But...one of the main reasons I'm voting against this Amendment is this: I don't believe that GOD himself would vote for this Amendment. I think it's not something that he's pouring over. He is not worried about who loves who. He's probably more concerned about who doesn't love who- and that's what this amendment is about. It's about division. It's judgemental. It's not understanding of others. It's not loving. It's not fair. It's also not fair for the government to decide what marriage should be. I don't want Uncle Sam telling me which church to go to or what Bible to read. I certainly don't want them deciding who should be allowed to be married and who shouldn't.

I love the Lord, and I am voting AGAINST AMENDMENT ONE.

Even if you don't agree with me- you should at least put your two cents in by voting. Stand up for your right to vote.

I anticipate this will have a higher voter turn out than the presidential primaries did. Gay people make up a VERY LARGE portion of society. Don't leave them in the cold. Unmarried couples living together with children make up an even larger portion of society. You most likely know at least one in each category. Do you not care about their rights? Are they not as good as you? Don't be a judge when we both know there is only one real judge.