A Letter to my Birth Father (Who I Never Met)

Dear Les,

I stumbled across your obituary by accident on a Tuesday afternoon in November 2017.

I was chatting with a friend about adoption, and I meant to find a picture of my half sister, Rachel, to show that our skin tone and hair color was like yours. Apparently those genes run strong: the deep brown hair and skin with yellow undertones. Your obituary came up in the search results.

You were only 60, and were diagnosed with a glioblastoma a mere 5 months before you died from it on November 22, 2016. A year ago. I’ve known your name and where you were but had not yet made contact. Your two other daughters, Rachel and Stephanie, were the key reason why: do they even know about me? Would they want to? But the question that was always burning in my heart was if I often crossed your mind. How could I not have, with your two younger daughters a constant reminder of the one that came before?

This week I have grieved deeply for your loss. Not for the man I never knew, but for the loss of the opportunity to get to know you. I could have contacted you at any time in the last few years, but the truth is, what I wanted more than anything was for YOU to find ME, because I was afraid that I would reach out and you wouldn’t want to know me. Your obituary says you loved golf, had many friends and would talk about your daughters to whoever would listen. It’s amazing how much that sounds like my Dad’s obituary. The man who raised me will always be my Dad, but there is no doubt that you are a part of me, too, and it’s incredible how similar you sound. If so, I think I would have really liked you.

Jill, pregnant with me, with you.

My birth mom, Jill, found me 10 years ago. She has said you were kind and treated her well, but that your lives were on different paths. I’ve enough now to understand what that means. She also said that when she saw one of my baby pictures that she was astonished how much I looked like you.

The same ridiculous haircut?

I’ll never get to tell you that I turned out okay, or that I have never been angry or resentful that you gave me up, or that I’m happy you had what sounds like a wonderful life, or find out what aspects of my personality were yours, too. But I’m pretty sure that if you knew me you’d be as proud of me as you are of Rachel and Stephanie. ❤

My questions will never be answered, but I will still carry a piece of you with me.

Andrea ❤

Life with the Volume Up

Mental health has always been a strong part of this blog. As of late, though, I’ve been struggling to write much of anything at all. My own emotional health has been suffering. Part of this is some life changes I’ve been going through, that I don’t really wish to address here. Part of this is also hormonal, due to stress. And part of it is just that I am a deeply emotional person.

Relatively recently I’ve realized that I’m what’s called a Highly Sensitive Person. It manifest itself in me as feeling everything, and I mean everything, more deeply than the average person. I used to tell people I wasn’t much of a crier, because I believed it to be true. But the past 5 years have really been revealing to me just how many tears I’ve shed over the course of my life.

I have very strong memories of being a small child and my adoptive mom telling me that my tears weren’t real: that they were crocodile tears, that I was faking it. When I got my heart broken by my very first love in high school, I was an absolute mess for at least a month. I remember binge watching movies (before Netflix was even a thing) just to keep myself distracted.

I’ve felt hurt from every person that’s left my life, regardless of the reason. Hell, our downstairs neighbors moved away a little more than 6 months ago, and even though we weren’t more than passing acquaintances I always ask myself if I could have been a better neighbor. Abandonment is my biggest fear: the silent threat that people I care about will leave me is what keeps me up at night.

I crave intimacy from all people. I have always been willing to give myself to others emotionally, wanting to share who I am in hopes of learning, in return, who they are. For me, beauty is in the totality of someone, not just their parts. I believe that the more you know someone, the easier it is to love them, because you can see how they wind their way through the world. The sad part for me is how not everyone feels comfortable sharing those parts of themselves.  I both understand and lament this fact.

I won’t ever stop laying myself bare for others, even if it’s not returned. Even if it makes me sad that someone doesn’t want to connect, even if it means I will mourn for the closeness I’m not destined to have. Because someday someone will look at me and SEE me, and allow me to see them right back, and it will make all of it worth it.

You see, there isn’t anything wrong with me. I just live my life with the volume turned up.

I’m incredibly lucky to have a few friends who can see I need help in the way I type. My friend Sharon can tell with a text message if I need girl time, and my friend Chris can tell by my typing tone if I’m feeling down. There are even a few friends who just send me tiny emoticons, or cute animal videos, or goofy Snapchat filtered pics just to make me smile (I love those people). The thing is, I’ve been feeling down a lot lately. More than I’ve been feeling good. And when I feel this way, my brain lies its full head off to me. I feel unworthy of friendship, of love, and the urge to apologize for *feeling* is an overwhelming compulsion.

More than one person in the last month has told me I’m a good person and each time it has sent me to tears. I want to feel worthy of such praise. My heart says to believe it but my brain sows the seeds of doubt. I do, however, believe it when people say I’m kind, even though I occasionally feel like a total douchenozzle.

The point? The point is I love so much more than I hate, and that while I sometimes feel broken or fragile, the truth is I’m strong. I keep going back out there with my heart open, because this is who I am, world. This is who I am.

Coping with Oncoming Seasonal Affective Disorder

Every year I feel it coming, sometimes as early as the end of August. (I can actually feel it right now, sinking into my bones, making it hard to even write this blog.) Late August was cool in the Philadelphia area this year: mid-70s and breezy. I began to feel the pull of darkness on those days where I couldn’t abide bare legs while walking outside. Jackets accompanied me everywhere and I noticed the sun setting earlier and earlier. (As a food blogger you treasure natural daylight for photography.)

Winters are really hard for me. I thrive on warmth and long summer sunshine-filled days. I love to be outside, so when it’s cold and snowy and I have to stay inside it drives me to a bit of a depression. I’m not remotely alone in this: it’s estimated between 10 and 20% of Americans report noticing a lowering of mood or an increase in sadness during the shorter days of the year.

Symptoms of SAD

  • Sadness
  • Anxiety
  • irritability
  • loss of interest in usual activities
  • withdrawal from social activities
  • inability to concentrate
  • extreme fatigue and lack of energy
  • a “leaden” sensation in the limbs
  • increased need for sleep
  • craving for carbohydrates, and weight gain.

Symptoms of summer SAD include:

  • weight loss
  • agitation and restlessness
  • trouble sleeping
  • decreased appetite

Women are four times more common to experience SAD than men, the theory being that women are more likely to ruminate and dwell on things that make them sad. (I know I’m a serious ruminator so this is definitely an issue.) Also, SAD is much more common in people who live farther away from the equator (which may be why we Northerners love going to the Caribbean in the winter). When people are excited for Halloween and sipping their Pumpkin Spiced Lattes or posting on Facebook about how many days until Christmas you’re stowing your tank tops and shorts in deep storage and looking longingly at your bathing suit.

So what do we do about it? How do we deal with the inevitable onslaught of sadness that accompanies the long winter?

Coping with SAD

Get outside in the morning, even if it’s overcast. Even if it doesn’t seem sunny, the rays of the sun will reach your body. If you really can’t get outside, or if the sun isn’t up yet when you get out of bed, try light therapy.

Workout. (This is generally good advice anyway.) I mean, take it from Elle:

Maintain your routine. Meet up with your friends like you normally would, even during bad weather. Don’t just stay inside and isolate yourself, this will only make things worse.

Cut back on sugar. If you treat your stress and anxiety with sweets, try to eat something more balanced, like an apple and some cheese, which includes, fat, protein and fiber. It will be nourishing and keep you full longer without the sugar crash.

Find fun things to do that are winter-only. Skiing? Snowboarding? Snow shoeing? Building snow men? Or if you don’t like to actually be outside in the cold, take a class in the winter. Do something that makes winter special for you.

Book a trip somewhere sunny. I can’t really afford that, so I’ll just turn on my Happy Light, crank up the heat and pretend I’m on a beach in Tahiti. *sigh* But seriously, going somewhere warmer and sunnier can be good for your health.

Keep a journal. Write about your feelings in a journal. Putting thoughts and feelings down on paper is a great way to get them out of your system and (hopefully) out of your mind, at least for a short while.

Have a good cry. There’s nothing wrong with tears. Sometimes a good, cleansing cry is exactly what you need to reset your emotions and start fresh.

And if it gets too bad to deal with? See a doctor. You may have more than just seasonal depression.

Do you suffer from seasonal depression? What coping skills work for you?