Tag: Self

Being Adopted, Part III: Meeting My First Genetic Relatives

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The author with her sister, nephew, and niece, standing in a diner
A blurry photo of the first time I met my half-sister and her kids

You can read the earlier posts in this series here:

I was 27 when I first looked at a person who shared my DNA. On a gray day in late November, I opened the door of a diner and saw my then-12-year old niece, who gave a small smile and pointed to her mother standing at the counter. My sister.

It’s been nearly five months since I alluded to this post, and I’ve procrastinated on writing it. It’s a difficult one for me to write. This meeting happened almost eight years ago now, and I wish I had journaled about it at the time. My memories of my feelings have no doubt been affected by experiences in the intervening years and the soul-searching I’ve done since then. I’m also uncomfortable writing about other people, but I’ll do my best to recount things as honestly as I can.

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Being Adopted, Part I: An Incomplete Self

- Alexis Leave a comment
Charcoal drawing of a seated and smiling mother and child
Mother and Child, 2004.

I learned I was adopted when I was four years old. My parents didn’t mean to tell me yet, but someone else told me and I asked them about it. They did intend to tell me eventually, but I don’t know that they had decided when the perfect time would be.

Four was as good an age as any. The news wasn’t shocking or devastating. I understood the basic premise: my biological mother couldn’t care for me, and my birth parents couldn’t have children but wanted a child, so I became theirs. I thought it was kind of a cool story, something that made me special and different. As a four-year-old, I didn’t really have the emotional capacity to delve beneath the surface of this new information. Over the years, what it means to be adopted would gradually unfold, coloring all aspects of my life and personality. Thirty years later, I’m still learning how it affects me.

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Imagining the Ideal Life

- Alexis 1 Comment

Black and white photo of a wooden bridge in the woods

Yesterday I had the pleasure of conducting mock interviews of law students in preparation for the upcoming interview season.  They were eager and well-prepared, looking out at the endless possibilities that lay ahead if them.  I asked them where they saw themselves five years after graduation, and I answered their questions about my job, including what had led me to it, what I loved about it, and what, if anything, I might change.

When I was in their position ten years ago, I hated the “where do you see yourself in x years?” question.  I had no real vision for my future.  I guess I figured if I followed all the recommended steps — work hard, get good grades, network, get a good job at a big firm — everything would fall into place and I’d end up with the life I was supposed to have, whatever that was.  I really didn’t know enough about the world or myself to know what I wanted my life to look like.  I could recite answers to interview questions, but the visions I described were really other peoples’ ideas of what a good life and career looked like.

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