Reflections on Writing

Going through this time of writing at least one blog post a day in a huge endeavor in my creative thinking. It’s s constant challenge to prepare what I will share and how to share it.

It is not as hard as I thought it would be to come up with what I want to write about. It is even pretty easy to keep it in somewhat of an sequential order. What seems to be difficult is to keep the privilege of retrospect out of it.

What I mean is trying to write it as if I have not lived it already or that I haven’t judged this scene already. My biggest challenge will be writing about the person that I look back on with disdain. Because I judge myself. A lot. Much more than I should and about things that I think other people would be surprised about.

The things on my life that others would be ashamed of, I’m not. But then other things that others probably wouldn’t think was any big deal, I am. This could also be because I vehemently resist labels. So most things I do would go against the flow.

What I have learned the most as I am writing is how feelings creep into your life. They don’t hit you over the head and stick to you. They happen one comment at a time. A glance or a sneer. Things get internalized and push aside, often because they get dismissed by those we are closest too.

Writing about how I feel about being adopted is hard. It’s hard mainly because my feelings about being adopted vary wildly. I love it, I hate it. I wish I never was. I am glad that I am adopted. I love my life. But sometimes I wish I were never born. I hate many of my memories. I love a lot of my memories.

The biggest thing that I have learned so far from writing about my life and reflecting on my adoption is that no one really understand how I feel but me. I can only tell stories and relate how things made me feel, but I can’t make you feel or understand how it was for me.

I have also learned that having a voice makes me feel better, even if no one ever reads what I wrote. I am leaving a bread crumb trail for my descendants. I want them to know who I was.

Thanks for taking the trip with me.

Remember, This is the best part of the trip, this is the trip. The best part.

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About sjwoods318

Mother of six children - five girls and one boy; wife; community organizer, family chauffeur, philosopher, trans-racial adoptee, Deadhead, person of mixed racial heritage, artist, poet, writer who loves to swim, read, and run around with my family.
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One Response to Reflections on Writing

  1. adopteeinrecovery says:

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