Learning from The Mountain

For some adopted people, "just be yourself" is a trek into the unknown.

Merriam Webster on "to reject": to refuse to hear, receive, or admit.

I reject the "old school" language around adoption. The words that attempt to shift the focus from our loss to someone else's gain. "Chosen." "Lucky." "Grateful."

I am trying to reject the idea that I am an inconvenience, that my very existence is a problem for some (birth parents, siblings) and an inadequate solution for others (adoptive mom's desire for biological children).

I've rejected the bubbling up of my own personality and interests and passions for so long that it's difficult to clear away the debris and let my "self" flow and find her natural path.

Spending time with other adoptees started to change that. It was a revelation to hear bits and pieces from their lives that sound so familiar. I mean, where else am I going to feel free enough to finish not one but two conversations about rejection with uninhibited laughter?

That freedom to simply be is something I've missed all of my life.

I keep a copy of this photo pinned on the wall near the desk where I do most of my writing. It’s a reminder that the sky’s the limit.

The photo was taken near Mount Rainier. It was mid-June, and down at sea level, where I live, the weather had been warm and gray. We drove through patches of dense fog on the two-hour ride to Paradise – named for the glorious meadows of wildflowers that bloom each summer.

We ventured a little ways up the hill near the visitor center, then I turned to pose for a quick photo — arms raised in absolute, uninhibited joy sparked by the beauty all around. The mountain rising proud behind me. No boundaries. No expectations. Just being.

Out of the fog, blue sky all around.