C'est La Vie!: June 2016

Sunday, June 26, 2016

A Regretful Decision

Mom and I in Paterson, NJ

I've been contemplating writing this entry for quite some time. Not that it is painful to write, but I guess it might be judged — criticized even. See, I have been blessed to have a father. I mean my father isn’t my biological father, but I’ve been extremely blessed to have him. I’ve always had a great father. So some might ask, why do I even care to write this?

Like many blended families, my adoptive dad met my mother and I became his. I learned very early in life the lack of our biological connection. I had to be seven years old. I vividly remember my mother sitting me on the couch, showing a photo and telling the story. The news pierced my heart. Shocked, I held the picture of my biological father to my chest, wondering, where was this man? Why wasn’t he here? Why didn’t he want me?

Overtime, I closed the piercing wound, although it was deeply marred with ugly scars. Bumpy and bruised, the wound didn’t heal properly. Improper healing led to bitterness. At the age of 16, my uncle asked me if I wanted to meet my biological father. Somehow, they had found him.

The Photo Mom Shared With Me

Please don’t take offense, but I sometimes feel like our families don’t know how to address deep ugly wounds. Perhaps if my mother and uncle would have shared the news of my biological father together, instead of my uncle dropping me off at home, and then getting out of car and asking me on the sidewalk, I could have absorbed it better. I was sixteen. Another bomb just landed on my chest.

I am not blaming them. It was such a sensitive subject and I really think my mother and uncle didn’t know how to approach it. They did their best. And what now? How would my adoptive dad feel? I couldn’t hurt the man that was always there. Confused and heart-hardened, I declined. If I was not good enough for him then, 16 years later I am too good for him. Harsh words.

I didn't regret my words until I delivered my first child at 22 years old. Now, I was a mother and my daughter had an amazing father. Now, I understood the innate bond between parent and child. How could any parent ever walk away? I couldn't understand it. Even though I knew in many unique cases; adoption was the best answer. As for me, after delivery, more confusion set in about my biological father. I was his flesh and blood and he was gone.

Three years later, I had my second child, similar feelings resurfaced. My children were siblings. I also have siblings from both my mother and adoptive dad, but what about my biological father? Did I have siblings from him? Wait? What about grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins? There’s a whole band of my DNA in this world and I have no clue who they are.

When I moved from New York to North Carolina 12 years ago, I told the story to friends. They wanted to help me find my DNA connectors. We didn’t have much to work with — just a very common name and an old military picture. That was it. Even with today’s world wide web, we came up short.

Some things in this life, we will never know. I don't have a bucket list. But if I did, this would be on it. I’m writing because I want to know my biological other half. I want to know their family history, their medical history. Initially, I said I was afraid to write this because of what people will think. Some might say, just move on, you're blessed. That is so true. I'm grateful for my amazing family, all sides of it -- my biological, my adoptive, my step family, my in-laws.

I don’t think about Mr. Adams every day. Yes, my biological father’s last name is Adams. For some reason, in the month of June on Father's day, I think of him. If he’s not passed on, I always wonder, does he think of me?

Until we meet again,

Brook Lynn

Brook Lynn Dorcent

Author/Coach/Inspirational Speaker

Host: JUST WRITE REVIEW

Founder/Facilitator: JUST WRITE! - A Club for Writers

Missing the Mark (Novel One)

Pressing Toward the Mark (Novel Two)

Forgetting Betrayal (Novel Three)

Above All (Novel Four)

His Wedding Vow (A Novel) Coming Soon

Spirit Over Will (Devotional)

OUTStanding (Memoir/Teen Guide)

www.brooklynndorcent.com

Why Not...Read for Love

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Seeing Through the Blinds

“You’re a disobedient wife.” On July 18 we will celebrate our 24th wedding anniversary and this is what I've heard from my husband since our marriage journey began. What he means by that is, I just don’t listen. Now, I beg to differ. I listen, but I think I have enough knowledge about some things to make sound decisions.

Thankfully, we don’t have as many disagreements as we did in our earlier years. Boy, he could really push my buttons. Or shall I say, I allowed my buttons to be pushed. I remember, I don’t know if he does, that once I actually threw a breakfast plate flying into the kitchen from the living room because I was so heated. (There was still food on it!)

That was years ago. Years! I have learned to control my temper. My children don’t see me lose it often. I’m very patient, now. It’s easier and it saves plates.

In any event, we recently needed new blinds. I didn’t want to spend too much on this item. My husband explained, “You’re gonna keep buying cheap, and gonna continue to get cheap. They ain’t gonna last long.”

“But they’re so much,” I whined. After a few minutes of going back and forth, I said, “You’re right, I keep buying cheap and they keep breaking. I want something nice.”

That wasn’t good enough, however. He said, “Let’s go with the darker color — like wood.” Oh boy. “Honey, I don’t think that is going to look right. I don’t know.”

I guess on this day, I was feeling a little worn out, or perhaps, I’m maturing. I agreed, “Let’s get the darker color.”

He ordered them, they arrived and after several prompting conversations, he installed the blinds. He called me at work to let me know they were up. It’s sad, but all day long, I couldn’t wait to get home to see them. It really doesn’t take much to make me happy. Really.

I pulled up. From the outside, they looked good. From the inside, they looked great! I was tickled pink. Not only did we spend a little more, I was brave and accepted another color. I should listen to my husband more often.

We’re opposites no doubt. We learned from the True Colors Seminar, that his personality color is orange, and mine is green/gold. The color blue, which reflects love and romance is where our numbers match. Thank God for that! Given my husband’s outgoing and adventurous character, he does not have a problem thinking outside the box and taking risks. I’m the safe one. I need a plan and a referral before I make a decision.

He has always been that way. I remember when we dated, we spent many Friday nights at the Sunrise Movie Theater in Queens. After a long week, we were so tired, but we loved the movies and being together. Sometimes, with over twelve movies showing, there wasn’t “anything” playing; meaning, no blockbuster or largely advertised movie. I’d stand there looking at the marquee, saying, “There’s nothing good.” Him, he’d looked at the displayed pictures and pick one. I didn’t want to see any of those movies. He would say, “Come on, give it a try.”

I have to say, I enjoyed every movie; we gave a try. Well, all except RoboCop 2. Sorry. I just couldn’t.

After 23 years, I’ve learned sometimes, you’ve just got to give it a try and trust your mate. After all, they're just blinds!

My husband picked the blinds and made a very good choice. I think I’m going to let him choose the new kitchen floor!

And for the record, I’m not disobedient. I’m a thinker! What would my husband say about that? “You think too much.” He’s probably right.

In what situations have you decided to just go with it and take a risk?