Well, I have been back from Vietnam for close to a month now, but I have not written a single word in this blog. The reason being? Well I’ve been a bit busy. Upon my return, (it took about 40 hours for me to get back to my apartment) I attended a long job training, a couple meetings, a job interview and a summer class. It sounds outrageous, I know. I think it sounds about as outrageous as I feel right now. Going into my last year of college I have been forced to think about my future, and where I will be going with my life and I have to say, this trip to Vietnam did not help my process. If anything, it caused a struggle, one even larger than before.
You see, my brother is someone who I admire and would consider both cursed and yet incredibly lucky. Being adopted at the age of 7, he has been fortunate enough to know his biological family his whole life. He has even been back about four times since his adoption. I say this is a blessing and curse because while he gets to know them, he also suffers while he is not with with them, constantly worrying about their health and well-being. After saying his goodbyes, he just got incredibly silent and spent the remainder of the trip looking at photos he had taken on his camera and trying to figure out when he could return to be with them.
Despite all of this, I am incredibly jealous. I just wish I could know my birth mother and see what she is like. I have not started this process for several different reasons, one of them being fear. What if she didn’t want to be found, didn’t want to meet me because of the stigma attached to being a single mother in Korea? Even worse, what if I met her, and she wasn’t anything that I would want to meet? What if she was a disagreeable person ashamed to have a daughter who didn’t speak the language (even worse, learning Spanish instead), had tattoos, and was not that size 2 she was looking for? A battle I am sure every adoptee both international and domestic fear for. This only makes me more jealous of my brother, because upon meeting his family, I saw that they were incredibly nice people. Very loving, and very grateful that my brother had come to visit them and pay his respects. They love him, want him, accept him warmly after about 15 years away form their household, and I want that more than anything. It hurts a bit to know that there is a chance that this will never happen for me.
I am finding that no matter how comfortable I am starting to become in my identity, there is always something to knock it back down. One of my friends (not meaning to be malicious) pointedly said “You are Americanized! Your parents are white!” What a slap in the face. It was something little, but brought up a soft spot that I don’t even like exposing. These days I feel a little lonely. It is hard to find fellow adoptees in my area, and I want to know “Where y’all at?!” Especially the college aged ones. Where y’all at? I’m looking for you and am finding nothing. Nada. Zilch.