Learning How to Breathe

A few years ago, I made contact with an adoptee through the internet.  It was the first time I ever had written conversations with a person who spoke the same angst-ridden language I had when it came to being lost and not knowing if I'd ever be found.  We were both searching for the truth in terms about our adoptions, our childhoods, and how that all affected our relationships as parents and our marriages.  We wanted to find answers to fill the voids that became our life-stories, but didn't know if that was possible.  It was only within a few emails we compared ourselves to living like dogs, wishing to have better lives with better owners; we were convinced we were indeed twins, separated at birth, and all we needed was to find our super-twin activation decoder rings, all so life would be fine, and we could right all the injustices we could find.  At the very least we thought we'd find peace for ourselves.  Surely even a dog can have his day, can't he?

On paper, (or text), life can be as simple.

As our letters to each-other became more in-depth and more personal (thus complex), I would let my new-found friend read the panic in me.  He would tell me to "breathe".

Huh? 

"Breathe"

Count to ten, and breathe.  He was there, listening, in his passive, reading way... and that was new and amazingly different for me.  No one had ever done that for me before.  Not like this.  [Peruse the PPL website, and imagine me as your pen-pal!]

I sent my Super-Twin a copy of our November Newsletter, to let him know how our baby was doing.  His words to me were:  "seeing the puppy starting to walk brought a smile to my face."

I used to hold my breath and not say a word to those who thought they knew me and my "family history".  The more I write, the more I'm able to exhale....there's a strange sad peace in me knowing there are a lot more pups like me and my friend... more than I ever dared to think or believe.