Constant Hunger

What would have been the one-year milestone of my (Ultimate Life Fail) ULF recently passed.

In fact, as I’m typing a group of wonderful individuals are together celebrating their mid-point together.

It’s a group that I should be a part of, but because I just couldn’t do it, I’m here, staring blankly at the disappointment of who I’ve become.

All of this led me to reconsider, once again, what happened and what went wrong. I can’t stop thinking about how different my life would be, how different I would be if I were still on that track.

If my circumstances had been different, would I still be there?
Would I be there, celebrating my resiliency, rather than here, wondering if there’s even a shred of resiliency left in me?
Would I still be that strong person that I used to be? That person where bad things could happen and I could take an Eastern perspective and say “that’s life” and move on, unbroken?
Would I still enjoy life?

If I would have stayed and found self-worth through my actions and doing something good, would this hunger that I have for love, acceptance and belonging be as intense? Would finding my biological parents still mean everything to me?

Orphans are always hungry. You can feed them Spam and chocolate bars and poisoned apples all day long and they’ll still complain about emptiness. That’s why the government manufactures cakes made of grass. The cakes have no nutritional value, but they possess a magical property that makes orphans feel full. -Jane Jeong Trenka in Fugitive Visions

I remember how it felt as the plane began its ascent toward Japan; how part of me wanted to do something completely inappropriate so that they would stop the plane and leave me in Korea, or at least buy me more time, because, for as much as I wanted to be anywhere but there, leaving stirred up those familiar feelings of failure and disappointment. You’re leaving. You’re failing your biological parents. You’re failing yourself. Try harder. Why won’t/can’t you try harder?! Do something, dang it! If it’s that important to you, you wouldn’t be leaving, you’d be staying. What don’t you get about this? It’s simple. And yet, you can’t do it. What’s wrong with you? You can’t give them that? You’re a terrible daughter, of course they were right to give you up. What don’t you get about that? You’re humanity has been demeaned; you’re barely human. You’re a monster. And monsters don’t deserve to live.

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3 thoughts on “Constant Hunger

  1. I know it’s your preference to refer to leaving the PC as your Ultimate Life Fail rather than a more compassionate term like “Wake Up Call” or “Ultimate Life Readjustment.” So, I’ll use your term. What you view as your ULF is to me something quite different. I’m not quite sure I understand how or why it would be preferable to have stayed on with PC. How would you be better off? Would you really be closer to any of your life goals?

    I do understand that it would FEEL better to have accomplished that tough goal that you set for yourself. That your view of yourself would be intact–you’d feel resilient and strong rather than feeling quite broken, uncertain and lost. I know that you’d love to rewind the tape and start over somehow, regaining your old view of yourself. But, frankly, that old self wasn’t so hot. You may have felt strong and resilient, but it wasn’t built upon a strong foundation of self-understanding, compassion towards yourself, and acceptance. Your ability to block out the negatives was quite amazing and can be a useful tool. But it can’t be your only tool.

    Right now, I view you as being on an hero’s journey. Rather than ignoring your demons, you’re facing them. And that’s incredibly painful and difficult. It’s like going through labor. All you want is the pain to stop, but it would be silly to wish that you could go back in time to just being pregnant. It might feel better, but you’d still have the job of birthing the baby ahead of you. Ultimately, you have to move forward, through the pain, to get to the good results on the other side.

    You did NOT FAIL in Korea. You certainly did not fail your birth parents. Sadly, they failed you. First by not being prepared enough for your birth to keep you, then by not being willing to take the risk and see you. We don’t have to hold any anger towards your birth mother over this, but you certainly can’t blame yourself for not trying harder. What happened in Korea was that you really began to face a lot of the terrible hurt, rejection and abandonment that you have felt your whole life. It’s terribly painful, but just like labor pains are the path to motherhood, these pains are the path to healing from the past and creating the self-acceptance and compassion that you need.

    When you catch yourself being so terribly critical towards yourself. When that critical voice comes up and tells you that you’re worthless, a monster who deserves to die, please ask yourself where this voice came from. Please question the truth of this. Would you turn this terrible voice towards anyone else? (No, of course you wouldn’t because you’re a lovely person, amazingly enough, despite all that you’ve been through!) If no one else deserves this kind of terrible abuse, why do you?

    P.S. If you’re hungry, we’re here to feed you. We know its not the same as getting it from your first family or your second. But, we’re happy to be your third family and there are no limits on the number of helpings to be had at our table.

  2. P.P.S. I’m glad that you wrote all this out. Because this is what processing looks like, even if I can’t agree with your harsh view of yourself, it’s great that you put it out there. Someday, I hope that you can look back on this entry and send me a little note about how amazed you are at how differently you feel!

  3. Beautiful post. You know when you reflected on the plane hovering over Japan as it left Korea?

    Funny, I felt sort of similar when the plane left Taiwan and begin its path back to North America…

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