After my last post a series of things happened and it just seemed that I could not escape this terrible nightmare. Ryan’s Boys & Girls Club hosted a Multicultural Festival in partnership with many organizations throughout our city. In one area, high school students were putting on a number of traditional dances from all over the world (very cool). When I stopped to watch, the emcee took the stage. Can you guess where she’s from??? Foreign exchange student … from Kyrgyzstan! What are the odds? A Kyrgyz foreign exchange student in our little town of Fond du Lac? Of course.
The next week I decided I would start to see a therapist to try and work through my emotions, and figure out a way to get back to work. Turns out, she’s an adoptive mom from Kazakhstan. Not quite Kyrgyzstan, but close enough. She even admitted that she wasn’t sure if she should tell me or not because it was obvious that it was still pretty raw. Honestly, it was pretty hard at first, and I debated going back. However, I stuck with her, and now I am grateful to have someone who understands the adoption world, and the desire to mother through adoption. I’ve come to realize that it makes my sessions go much easier.
My heart is broken beyond repair. There is an Akyl size hole in my heart and nothing I do seems to make it less empty. I suppose I need to find a way to live with it, rather than trying to fix it. But I’m a fixer. I’m a doer. There is nothing I can fix or do about this, so it puts me in a bit of a pickle. I feel like I’m holding myself together with tape and glue, and some days the pressure is just too much. The tape and/or glue is going to give, and I will be a puddle.
