I don’t know if you have noticed this or not, but life kind of sucks. Or am I the only one who thinks so? I mean I set out on this journey to find my birth mother, and here I sit paralyzed by fear. I’m a big guy-- 6’2”, 175 pounds, rippling abs and all-- but here I sit, frozen for days on end. I’m afraid to make a wrong move. Afraid that she STILL won’t want me. Afraid that I’ll discover things that I don’t want to know.
One thing about living with Sarah and Clinton, I spent my life getting what I wanted. Mom was so glad to have children that she smothered us with love and gave us whatever the hell we wanted. Dad stayed so busy selling houses that he felt the need to repay us with things. It was a win-win situation for me, but now I’m afraid that the one time that I need to get what I want, that I won’t. I’m afraid that this won’t end well. I’m terrified of my biological mother. She really is my only hope for finding out about my missing day-- there is no biological father’s name on file. I’ve spent so much time thinking about her that I almost forgot all about him. Did they love each other? Was it a one night stand? Did he die and leave her no other choice but to erase the pain and evidence of him? What was their story?
God, I sit around harping on my missing day, but I also have a missing father.
I was supposed to call the agency about my search two days ago, but I didn’t. I’m still running the name Fawne Marie Lewis through my mind. I can’t believe that I am so close to pin-pointing a location on her. I really never expected to get this far.
Today I realized how pivotal the moment I found out I was adopted was for me. I grew up that day. I had a big sobering dose of reality forced down my throat, and I have wasted a lot of energy resenting it. I don’t resent Dad for telling me, it just slipped out of him. But I resend spending nearly half of my life not knowing such a big part of who I am. I sit and whine about a missing day, but really I have more missing than that. A missing piece of my identity. I spent twelve years building who I thought I was-- Sarah’s son, Clinton’s son, Dinah’s brother. But it all turned out to be a lie. A huge ass lie if you ask me. The kind that can ruin a person.
There I go being all deep. One of my worst qualities is over thinking. I’ll spare you the sob story of my emotions and cut right to the chase. I have no choice but to bite the bullet and call the agency about my mother. This situation requires immediate action… I’ll call tomorrow. No really, I will.
Don’t believe me? Wait and see.
