Adoptee activist friendships are super charged and hyper-sensitive.  They are intense because everyone is exploring sensitive issues in parallel, but not always in sync.  The losses and the needs left in their wake keep emotions close to the surface.   These relationships are especially caffeinated and challenging.  They’re passionate, political, and often don’t end well.

People ask me, why don’t you call A up, or write her, or explain?  It’s such a shame you aren’t friends anymore, can’t you patch things up?  I thought you liked and respected her?  You used to say such good things about her…

USED TO is the operative word.  Opinions change over time.  They get more informed over time.  Assessments degrade and decompose as you get to know someone better, and respect erodes as you sort a person out.   A put me on a pedestal I could only fall from.  And I watched with horror as she talked negatively about people, abused people, pushed people, nagged people, smothered people.  I began to dread our get togethers, as they became one-way exchanges where A sought comfort and unloaded but never listened or provided comfort.  And the anger fueling all of this was really toxic to be around, suffocating me.  A proposed something selfish, something that would have hurt the entire adoptee community, and I looked up and asked myself, “Who are you?”  I realized I didn’t like that person, and that the smart part of me had known all along to keep some emotional distance.

So A didn’t listen when I articulated my boundaries.  And recently, I didn’t hear B when they articulated theirs (ironically, about expressing my frustration with A).   Me with A, and B with me, we both waited too long to express ourselves:  waited until things were said that can’t be repaired.  This seems to be the way late-acquisition friendships go, when history is so short.  Instead of repair, we move on.  It is especially the way of some traumatized adoptees (including myself) who don’t understand their own needs well, don’t communicate them well, and have no models of healthy relationships and especially not the forgiveness necessary to perpetuate them.  Part of being angry is blame and blame does not allow much room for forgiveness…

And it’s also about commitment.  I never made a commitment to A:  I made a commitment to work hard.  I made a commitment to B.  But it takes two committed people a relationship to make.   There’s a phrase to describe such friendships, and it’s called conditional love.  And the condition usually has something to do with – don’t make me question myself or what I hold onto.

I was accused of being jealous of A , which was/is the farthest thing from my mind.  I am critical of A‘s conclusions and motivations.  I was accused of wanting to be a “star” in the adoptee community, which also is exactly what I don’t want.  I just see holes and try to fill them because nobody else is.  I was also accused of copying A, which is not as if A has a copyright on providing services.  The fact is that A stands on the shoulders of many before her, just as I stand on hers and others I have met, and is a “star” because of C, D, and others who get no press.  And then it occurred to me that the accused are generally inclined to be guilty of what they are charging…

And people wonder why I am so negative about the adoptee community… It’s just a taxing place to hang out in.  The bulk of adoptees are (I’m borrowing from someone else here) in the first phase of identity exploration, and it’s a hysterical place to be.  And then there are many who live here who are still in that phase of identity exploration, only they’ve developed a whole language around it and made it their extended stay residence.

I don’t fault people for coming here and exploring, it’s something we all must do.  But I don’t want to live my life as the injured and maligned who let the past rule their present.  Euphemistically they call themselves survivors but they’ve hardly got lives to speak of.  To live like that is too black and white, simplistic, and really not very imaginative or rich.

So strangely, I’ve very little sense of loss over these finished relationships, though I am extremely frustrated when wrong assessments follow me.  And, in their absence I have met other adoptees who are managing the infinitely more complicated feat of balancing their multi-faceted lives.   We won’t have passionate relationships and we won’t have expectations of synchronicity and we won’t ask the world of each other.  And that’s really okay.  In fact, it’s beautiful.

So I’m not bitter anymore.  I’ve isolated what makes me angry, for my specific adoption scenario, and isolated what outrages me about the system in general, and organized all my issues into neat little cubbies — what can realistically be addressed, what is mute, what is history to be archived, and what is progressive for me personally.  I’ve reduced the anger which feeds the parasite, and kept only what can be managed.  What is not so neat is what my restructuring has done to my relationships.

If you notice, some of the people who used to comment here are conspicuously absent.  And another one bit the dust yesterday.  It seems that things go better with anger, that righteous anger makes any action excusable, and that it’s a brotherhood whose allegiance can not be questioned.

I’m sorry.  I question.  Because it clearly does not work.  I don’t wanna do war no more.  I don’t want to help the bloodied kill themselves, and I don’t want to kill their enemies.  I want to be neutral and instead of counting my losses, start counting my blessings.  And I can do this and STILL be a voice for change, because many (not all) of the things bitter angry adoptees are destroying themselves over (slow or quick death) are valid points!  Maybe I’m naive, but shouldn’t that be possible?  Only it’s really freaking hard, as everyone wants to know “which side are you on, anyway?” And if it’s no side, then it means it’s not OUR side.

A lonely place to be.

It’s because I’m dense and somewhat socially retarded that I lose/screw-up/destroy these relationships.  It’s also because the time it takes for weighty issues to gestate reasonable conclusions in my slow as molasses brain is not in sync with my intensity, passion, or work ethic.  So, despite exhaustive research I tend to barrel forward full speed ahead prior to spending the time to do the field research and get the full spectrum of information.  I’m impetuous.  Like Buckminster Fuller, I want to be a verb.  I’m also attracted to people who I recognize, and that’s bad because what I too often fail to realize is that what I recognize first is my own dysfunctions (past and current) in others.  But it takes time to recognize that attractive is not necessarily good for you or them.  I also have this horrible penchant for “fixing” things (that’s why I’ve always volunteered) and sparing people the pain of repeating the same mistakes I have.  I am guilty of  stirring the pot and intervening.  Because that’s what I wish for myself.  Honest and forthright reflection.  Action in addition to words.

Now, whereas that can be seen as abusive, even when done out of a general concern that everyone not just survives but has quality lives, when it comes to matters of psychic distress to the degree a life is in danger, then it is at that point where I no longer apologize.   So boo to my critics.

So when I entered into this adoptee activist mode, I was raw meat and ready to have my anger directed at the most satisfactory, expedient and damaging target.  I recognized this had potential for warping me, so I chose to work on a positive message, and that message was one of female empowerment.  This is why I chose the group I did, because of their work with moms who’d lost their children or wanted to keep their children, and because I was inspired by their energy and what (I thought) they were accomplishing.  But in the background, as I threw myself into action, my anger was given a steady diet of bitter pills.  A lot of these arguments appealed to my emotions, but the degree of bile was sometimes/often shocking, coming from such sweet visages.  Until at some point the voices in my ear ceased to make sense, especially as I began to see they resembled the very things they were fighting against.  Yet even when the “something’s not right here” inkling became a loud scream my momentum kept me in a straight line.  Even as I realized maybe there was a better way, and as I watched their personal lives erode, I ignored my reservations.  And not until I realized I was in a negative vortex and at its center was only destruction did I eject myself.  I left a message to the center of the vortex:  Go get help.  Save yourself.  (not appreciated)

So, to be fair, that’s my m.o.  To explore deeply, get disillusioned, and then reject.  But this time is different.  This time instead of becoming disgusted and jaded, I’ve begun to compare notes and read playbooks from people who are NOT like me, who manage their energies, expectations, and priorities, who act carefully, and who value excellence in their relationships and care about themselves and their children.  Children.  Not just considering them, but being responsible for them in ALL ways, really changes the equation: in terms of self, in terms of time, in terms of ego, in terms of wounds, in terms of what is love.

Or, hopefully, I am becoming more like them.

I think coming to Korea has forced me to grow up a lot.  Of course there’s still a long ways to go, but my prayer is that with each black hair I drop, the new white one replacing it is full of wisdom and grace.

This past week, a very talented young man named 크리스 (Chris) auditioned for SuperStarK season 3, Korea’s version of American Idol.  Here’s the link to his performance.

Besides having written several songs for current Kpop stars under his belt and a great mastery of R&B influenced pop, the judges required him to be able to sing in Korean, which he pulled off to perfection.  Of course, they had to dwell on the fact that he grew up an orphan…

What the clip above doesn’t show (because they cut it, though it’s on the t.v. episode) is one of the judges actually verbalized the reasons for his hesitation to approve him, ostensibly to do him a favor, anticipating that the Korean people would be reluctant to let him win over a Korean.  Now that it’s an identified issue, will that increase his chances because he’s been identified as an underdog?  Now that it’s an identified issue, will his talent be eclipsed by the potential for racism controversy?

Will 윤미래, a.k.a. Tasha, Korea’s half-black female rapper who sings about racism, and one of the judges, keep it real?  Or will his successes be written off as being her being unfairly partial?

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Interestingly, in Korea’s Top Model, one of the competitors was a gyopo (recently eliminated), and another is half Russian, has modeled some in Russia, and drops English with ease.  이제니 (Lee, Jenny) has even made it to the top 4, though it already seems clear the judge’s favorite is more classic-looking.  Will her use of English work against her?  Will her not-as-fluent Korean work against her?  I find her mannerisms very Western, and to add to her looks she is very healthy, glowing, and enthusiastic.  I’m reading that it’s being interpreted as too aggressive!

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All of Cheongpyeong’s sidewalks ugly typical Korean red and green masonry sidewalks are being replaced with a more tasteful white with gray accents.  The designer in me is doing a happy dance!  My Seoul friend who was here for Chuseok tells me these beautification projects are happening all over Korea, and that citizens are pissed over the Presidents priorities. I wonder out loud how Korea can sustain all the changes it wants/needs with a 6% tax base.

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Anyway, things are changing a lot in Korea.  I like it.

But not enough to stay.  Because this new world is a world for young people…And it’s not Korea’s growing pains which bother me, (I actually find that interesting and sometimes exciting) but being sucked in to adoptee drama/politics/issues.

But for me, it’s only twenty more years to retirement…I keep daydreaming about that third place, where I am visibly an expat, without native expectations of cultural understanding.  Since I’m only emerging out of my slumber now, I’m realizing I better start taking care of myself so I can enjoy a couple of those years.

So I mentioned to Miwha that I wanted to go to Namdaemun and get new glasses.  I’d read that they have a eyeglasses street and that you can get eye exams and glasses really cheap there.  So she took it upon herself to set me up for an eye appointment and through her Korean contacts also located an eyeglasses store where we got a friend discount!

The eye appointment turned out to be at a laser surgery clinic (for Koreans, not one of the medical tourism places) and it was very slick and super-modern looking.  I met her there at Severance Medical Center and the front desk men told me it was closed!  I think they just didn’t want to speak English, because I walked around and found it anyway and it was very much open.   Miwha translated what my needs were, and an intern ran me through all the usual tests in English.  Consulting with the doctor, who spoke amazing English, I found out my prescription had deteriorated a little.  His office had a huge video monitor and two computers, and to check for disease they snap a huge photo of your eye for more careful study, so there were my eyes on the screen, about a foot wide each!  When I asked about lasek surgery for dry eyes, he seemed to think I would be okay, and due to my need for both distance and close-up, he suggested mono-vision, which means the dominant eye is prescribed for distance and the other eye is prescribed for reading, and somehow despite that mix of prescriptions it doesn’t affect depth perception when looking through both eyes.  But I don’t think I’ll do that in the future, but was curious anyway.

The best part of the exam was that my co-pay with Korean health insurance was about $7.  I didn’t have to bring any paperwork:  only present my alien registration card.  I’ve been so freaked out about maneuvering through insurance paperwork in a foreign language that I haven’t been to the dentist or doctor the entire 2.5 years I’ve been here, but now I know why other foreigners working here go and get acupuncture and chiropractic adjustments, etc. I’ve been trained to think of those as luxury items or milking the system, but here in Korea they, like eye exams, are included as preventative medicine covered by health insurance!  (though, of course, elective surgery is not)  And dentistry!

Going to the glasses store a couple blocks away at the edge of Namdaemun market was also awesome.  I did test Miwha’s patience a little as I took too long to choose frames (because I have champagne taste) but finally I found a pair for distance and a pair for reading (at computer screen distance) that were cheap but would be versatile and classic.  The great thing about these eyeglass stores is they grind the lenses while you wait – it only takes about ten minutes!

Yesterday, and all year, to be able to see the computer screen I’ve put my glasses on top of my head, as I see better without glasses than with them on, and the bifocals are worthless for that unless I’m in a prone position.  So I’ve been one tired cranky girl for the past two years…Today I can see the screen with stunning clarity!  And the pair on the left don’t weigh much more than a feather…Cost?  $125 for two pairs of glasses.  Next payday I’m going to try rigid gas permeable contacts for the first time.  And during the next six months I am going to the dentist as much as I possibly can!

Yayy Korean medical insurance!  Yayy! Korean glasses shops!

I keep trying to write every now and then and it just goes to draft, because it’s so un-remarkable.

Still not finished with the broadcast book two weeks into school!  Actually I am finished now, but just can’t find appropriate free clip art to go with it.  And you know what?  I suck at drawing.  I mean, I suck at drawing anything cartoonish.  I also suck at sketching.  And I also found out back in school that I suck at abstract painting.  Basically, I have no imagination.  But I can copy real life well.  And I can design well.  And I can do concepts well.  So I have no idea where art will take me.  Maybe that is my last frontier, loosening up on the page…

Every time I think Momo and I have passed some milestone in our relationship, or that I’ve figured out how to make her happy, the attacks resume, just to keep me humble.  My arms have less scars on them than before, so I guess that’s progress.  I can say that from the numerous staple-like puncture scabs, Momo’s top incisors are 7mm apart and her bottom incisors are about 8mm apart…

It’s really not her fault.  She’s really a wild animal who also loves her substitute mom.  She’s just unfortunate to have drawn a really dull mom is all.  She needs to be with her own kind.  But somehow, we’ve got to get her to accept how I am and help her deal with it.

There’s also nothing remarkable to report about Korea.  The comedy’s still bad, the weather still sucks, the mass transit is still awesome, the students still like me, I still suck at conversation, I manage to be a decent teacher in spite of it.

I learned last week to stop intervening with death wishes and let childish, spiteful, vengeful, broken adoptees drive themselves into whatever dramatic conclusions they want to.  Others might let themselves consider intervention an act of caring, but some people are stubborn:  they’ve been angry so long, they don’t feel comfortable not holding onto it.  Anyone who isn’t for them is against them.  Anyone who doesn’t put up with their poor victim story and embrace them but tries to stop them from dying is against them.  I will now forever wash my hands of this borderline personality and my conscience will rest easy, as the only thing that can save them is self reflection.