The Power of Words


Spring Break is in the air…

It’s every teenager’s dream, right?  Live by the beach in the warm weather.  Go tanning every day?  Spring break!  But.. it’s not as lovely as it seems.  I’d like to thank my mother for my abnormally fair skin.  Yes, I am the girl whose mother constantly nags and warns about the dangers of the sun.  I’ve gotten quite used to it.  In fact, I actually like my fair complexion.

For the first time all week I’ve gotten out of the house.  I’ve been sick.  On Spring Break.  Lovely, eh?

So I went to the beach today with a couple of friends.  I decided I’d let people judge.  I didn’t wear my watch to cover my scars (some fresh, sadly) and I wore a bikini.  If people want to judge, by all means.  I, however, will not return the favor. 

I had a lovely time.  It’s nice to be carefree every now and then.  I felt like a normal teenager for the first time in months, and I got a tan (sunburn, sunburn, sunburn).  Okay, what am I kidding, I got sunburnt… a little… but my face is tanned!

I guess being an adoptee makes adoption seem more obvious in the real world.  When you see a young Asian girl with white parents you immediately feel her pain, even though she might not feel it yet.  Everywhere I look I see adoption.  It’s like I can run, but I can’t hide.  I mean, while I was in line for an ice cream some newlyweds were discussing which ethnicity of a child to get as if children were just a commodity.  The sad thing is, they are.  I don’t think people realize how often children are just sold.

While I was sick I was watching Lifetime movies.  Mom at 16, The Pregnancy Pact, Baby for Sale, and other titles I cannot remember.  Adoption, adoption, adoption. 

I’m not against adoption being in the media, I’m against the way it is portrayed.  There are some things that must be acknowledged with adoption. 

There is loss, and there is pain. 

There are some things that must be changed with adoption.

There is corruption, there is a lack of rights.

If these movies that reached thousands of people would have information that addressed the above mentioned, then I would be okay with this industry.  Life isn’t a Juno, at all.  Babies aren’t clean slates.  Isn’t it obvious?

If you drop a child on its head as a baby, the effects would be visible.  Why can’t the effects of adoption be as visible?  Do people need special glasses?  I’m willing to hand out pairs.  It’s time we fixed this blindness.

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The girl in the oversized t-shirt
March 6, 2010, 3:20 pm
Filed under: Beauty, Bullying, Eating Disorder, Life, School | Tags: , , ,

We all know the girl who wears an oversized t-shirt to the beach or the pool.  The girl who never takes it off because she doesn’t like the way her body is.  We all know the girl who wears twenty hair ties on her arms to cover her struggles.  The girl who never knew how to ask for help because she didn’t know how to ask for it.

And we all know the girl who has gone 11 days without doing the horrid act.

And the girl who doesn’t lie when she smiles anymore.

And the girl who is beginning to question the use of the oversized t-shirt.

And the girl who holds her head high and doesn’t look back on her former life: a life of repeated peer abuse.

We all know the girl who doesn’t wear make-up because she believes that it is a lie: covering your faults as if to erase them.

Here’s the girl who is herself.



lie: an untrue statement made with intention to be deceived

My birth certificate is false.  My adoptive mother did not carry me for nine months.  She did not give birth to me either.  My adoptive father just handed over the cash and once the transaction was done, returned to his alcohol abuse.  I wasn’t given a proper mother or father.  My parents are old enough to be my grandparents.  My father has never been a father and my relationship with my adoptive mother is non-existant.

My English teacher told us once that the most efficient lie you tell is the one you tell yourself.  Since then, I’ve always been wondering how to tell myself the truth if it is unknown.  I lie to myself about my appearance, I tell myself that if I skip that one meal everything will be okay.  I lie to myself about my cutting.  I say it’s not a big deal and that I can stop whenever I want to.

When one of my teachers told me in first grade that I was a “hooker baby” I didn’t know what it meant.  When I finally got to the age where I could understand it, I kept telling myself it was all a lie, just an ignorant statement.  Recently, I’ve found startling information that is proving otherwise.  If you’ve kept up with my blog you’d know that I’m pretty sure I’ve found my first mother.  A friend of mine did some more searching and said she found an escort ad by my mother.

What does this mean?  My friend keeps insisting that I am not a hooker baby.  Sometimes, you just have to see things as the come at you.  I wish I could just know the truth right now, I wouldn’t have to do this thinking.  I wish…

I was conceived in a web of lies and untangling them is one of the hardest things to do.

Right now, I just hope I’m wrong about one thing.



boil: to heat or become heated to a pressure

WARNING:  contents under pressure.

Sigh, I guess I should be used to rejection.  After all my experiences with it at school it’s shocking that I can’t take it this once.  Lemme rewind.  A few nights ago I was searching through my adoptive mother’s room and I found an article about adoption.  There were so many similarities with mine that I’m pretty sure it was mine.  So the article confirmed that my mother was a teenager.  So I begin to search classmates.com and high school alumni sites around the hospital I was born in for pregnant teens in my birth year.  I find a name, she was proud of giving me up.  She loved the experience.  She was recommending it to others because she loved it so much.

In the article she said that adoption was the easiest decision that she’s ever had to make.  It was easy to give me up?  Me?!?  ME?!?  ME?!?

I threw up when I read that.  It was so sickening.  I’m not wanted anywhere.  Where do I fit?  At school?  Nope…  Home?  Not really.  I’m not wanted.  It’s times like these where I wish I would have been aborted.  It would have been easier on her and caused no pain.  And, not to mention, I wouldn’t even know what happened so please do not take this as suicidal thoughts because that is the last thing on my mind.

That aside, yesterday at school, a popular girl made the comment that all ugly people should die.  She was staring directly into my eyes.  So, I’m invisible and hated.  glorious!!! 

Last week I skipped so many meals that it’s sickening to even think about it.  Call it stress, call it a stage but whatever it is it’s obviously not healthy and this week I am attempting to resolve that.

OH!  And stress!!!  These past two months I’ve been getting in daily arguments with my mother.  I really cannot see what is provoking them.  I mean, I’ll walk out of the house in a t-shirt and she calls me a whore.  I work on an essay that I have to write but she doesn’t like how I worded it.  I’m under so much stress right now I could scream.  It’s verbal blows, that’s what it is.

Right now I want a hug, or to cry, or a song that will make me cry.  Anything really.

*sighs*  What… ever…