I’ve been under the weather and it has slowed me down big time. Here is some great reading material I’ve found this this week.
Even though people are mostly well meaning and positive, we do get asked a lot of questions, and sometimes this wears me down. I get frustrated that I’ve gently educated on the same topic again and again and again and that makes me impatient with the next person who asks. But this new person hasn’t actually asked me before, and there’s very little transracial adoption in this country so it’s likely we’re the first transracial adoptive family they’ve met. And why should people know about adoption stuff, why should they be educated about a topic that they haven’t had any prior exposure to? Nothing is really a dumb question if you’re starting from zero. Even when the question itself isn’t appropriate, I’ve been really impressed by how graciously individuals tend to back off when I’ve explained this. Being aggressive about it, or getting offended doesn’t really do anybody any good. Not me, not the stranger, not my kids. Once upon a time, I didn’t know those questions were intrusive, and people took the trouble to educate me. I’m sure I wasn’t the first person they educated; I’m sure I wasn’t the last. And now it’s my turn.
After all, there is no such person as The Public. Telling one person doesn’t make a blind bit of difference to the next. The public only find things out one person at a time. That’s slow and frustrating for me, but that’s just the way it works. Expecting the guy I meet today to know something because I talked to someone else about it yesterday? Unreasonable. I might have been educating people for two years, but this particular guy has been learning for about ten seconds.
I don’t feel beautiful, I feel overwhelmed and uncertain. I feel inadequate and and short-tempered. I feel weak and stressed. I feel very protective of Paige. I don’t know what the right thing to do is and I feel guilty that I don’t really want our family to be a long-term solution for Moses – yet at the same time I don’t feel good about not being his long-term solution. I want him to go away and I want him to stay safe here. I tell myself not to get emotionally involved. It doesn’t work. At times I feel resentful at the weight of responsibility he represents — yet I feel possessive ownership when it comes time to hand him off to someone kindly offering to help. None of it makes sense. I hate learning I am capable of resenting a handicapped two year old. I hate that the world is full of this brokenness and loss. I hate my own brokenness.