The Fog

For as long as I can remember I’ve viewed my adoption only as a positive thing. Any negative thoughts around it that came up mostly in my teens, I “got over” and “grew out of” just like any other teenager dealing with identity. I was a hardcore believer in nurture, never in nature. Even when I thought of my own birth, imagining myself being birthed out of a wall, seemed normal to me. I imagined this wall, no bigger than a regular size living room wall, hovered above earth in black space. This image would appear whenever I shared the beginning sentence of my birth story “I came to Sweden from Indonesia when I was a 30-day old infant”.

Love & Meltdowns

But the truth is, it is hard to imagine us being anything else than this. And we may never have gotten here had our lives not unfolded the way they did. Had I never moved away from our neighborhood back where we both grew up. Had I then later never left Sweden. Had I never lost myself that summer fourteen years ago, and tried to check myself into a psychiatric emergency room. Had I never picked up the phone and agreed to meet him for coffee. Had I never.

No Ordinary Love

Love is simple and complicated all at the same time. It is not just one single avenue but a plethora of traffc lanes that when it all flows it is an amazing ride, but when things get backed up it throws you off... I realized the hard way that loving someone else also meant loving yourself. And that sort of love didn’t come easy to me.

Writing- Not Yet a Love Story

I am an artist. Not the sort who paints and sculpts. The other kind, who expresses through movement and words. Lately more words than movement. I used to love to write many years ago, but got too intimidated so I stopped. But when we parted I didn’t think we would ever come back to this.

Adopted Yet Connected Before Birth

I believe it was her calling in life, to become a mother. She practiced nurturing skills from an early age by feeding the baby goat in the barn, sleeping next to newborn kittens by the fire place, until eventually she was old enough to babysit. Children loved her. I don’t know if it was because of her silliness or vivid imagination to create worlds she had never seen nor had any desire to see, or both. But again, that is just my guess I did not yet know her.