The I Am Me Project

This submission is an ongoing project here at Band Back Together.

Who are you?

I am a 20-year-old Psychology student.

I am a daughter, sister, friend, and confidante.

I have type 1 diabetes and try to control it as best as I can without letting it control me.

I am currently winning my battle with depression.

I am a hugger.

I am a cox who will be down at the river at 6.30 on a snowy winter's morning for the sake of my crew, even on the days that leaving my bed seems impossible.

I care more about other people than myself. I'm working on that.

I am living at the opposite end of the country to my best friend, and even though we talk several times a week, I miss her.

I am loyal and can keep secrets.

I am stubborn, I am bad at talking about my feelings, and I don't always live up to my own or others standards.

I am a good listener.

I have just decided what I want to do with my life and, all being well, I will start training to be a nurse in September.

I have the best group of friends anyone could ask for and a dysfunctional, but loving, family who are always there for me.

I am just an ordinary girl trying to do my best in life.

I am me and I'm With The Band.

This submission is an ongoing project here at Band Back Together.

The project? Define Yourself.

I Am Me.

Who are you?

Who I am makes me what I am. What I am completes who I am.

I am a mother.

I am a daughter.

I am a sister.

I am a friend.

I am a wife.

I am a writer.

I am a designer.

I am deaf.

I am diabetic.

I am a victim.

I am a survivor.

I am loved.

I AM CHOSEN.

What am I? I am all these and more.

I am kind.

Compassionate.

I’ve got a ready ear and a strong shoulder.

I’ve got a huge soul.

I live to laugh.

I cry over happy endings.

I’m unique.

I tend to let my imagination run away with me.

I do what feels good and right to me.

I am laid back, easy going, and gullible.

I am a push-over, easy to walk on, and I yell.

A lot.

I love freely with my whole heart.

I have a ready smile and a gentle tongue.

I need words like bodies need water. It’s in my blood.

I’m a horrible housekeeper with a dorky sense of humor.

I have up days and down days.

I love food and eat to soothe.

I get depressed, and I’ve been known to have mood swings.

I will give you the shirt off my back even if it leaves me naked.

I AM CHOSEN.

I am a writer. I am an overactive imagination, low on energy, high on love.

I have a degree in procrastination.

I am strong of faith and low in regrets.

I stand strong when I need to, quiet when I should be, loud as often as I can be.

I am With The Band.

I am good today, high in self-esteem, but tomorrow I may crash.

And I'm okay with that.

This is who I am, the total package of me, and I am proud.

I couldn’t be me any other way.

This submission is an ongoing project here at Band Back Together.

The project? Define Yourself.

I Am Me.

Who are you?

I am a survivor.

I have psoriasis.

I am a married single mother (my husband is deployed).

I have 2 mini-me's, ages 7 and 1 & 1/2.

I'm tired a lot.

I love the color pink & sparkles.

I love white cake with lemon filling so much it was in my wedding cake.

I deal with anxiety and depression. Medication helps with that.

I don't show it.

I am Wife. Mother. Daughter. Sister. Cousin. Niece. Granddaughter.

I'm amazing at work. I'm not bragging.

I have a friend who calls me Super Woman. I think she is a liar.

I'm messy.

I'm a nice mix of analytical and creative.

I love Madonna, Britney Spears, Carlos Santana, Ozomatli, Pink Floyd, and Metallica.

I come from a long line of crazy, strong, eclectic, amazing, magical women. It's my daughters' birth right.

I am an excellent bullshit artist.

Some might call it creative writing.

I long to blog; in September I convinced myself to do it.

I love to sing.

I own my own karaoke machine.

Most days, I choose to not cook.

As a little girl, I used to fantasize about someday sorting my own family's socks. It is now my most dreaded chore.

I love to dance to electronica and swing music.

Favorite candy: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Three Musketeers, and Cadbury Eggs.

I have a soft spot for baby things. From baby plants to baby aye ayes (look it up, I'll wait); ok- maybe not so much of the aye aye.

I love sushi and ribs.

Asian food of any kind, really.

Ok... Food in general - I love it.

I'm falling in love with my post-babies body. The curves. Stretch marks. Lumps. Fatty places. Breasts.

I think my husband is sexy. Especially his butt. And I can kiss him for hours and never get tired of it.

I'm 2nd generation American from Nicaragua on my dad's side.

I'm something like 9th generation American on my mom's side originating from Sweden. (There are pictures of my relatives in covered wagons.)

I'm a 4th generation Los Angelino following the path matrilinearly.

My biggest regret is piercing my navel 10 years ago.

I love beer.

I tap dance at work, while waiting for the printer.

My mom and I took first place in a mother-daughter look alike contest a few years ago.

My mom and aunt call me "little sister."

Like them, my favorite curse words are "shit," "fuck," "motherfucker," and variations thereof.

I heard their mother curse very rarely.

My family of origin puts the "fun" in dysfunctional.

I'm a crackberry addict.

I'm addicted to coffee. I used to drink it out of my bottle.

On that note, I drank a bottle until I was 5. I still sleep with my blankie.

I'm still a functional, able-bodied member of society who raises children and graduated from college.

I worry too much.

I use a paper planner, a wall calendar, an internet calendar, 2 outlook calendars, and apps on my phone. Why? Because 5 years ago my then 2 year old missed her trike-a-thon and I vowed to myself "Never. Again."

I love roses.

I want to be strong like my great grandma was.

I cry. Often.

I have a bachelor's degree in botany with minors in plant pathology and dance.

It took me 8 years.

I don't have to be perfect.

I own my emotions.

I love fully.

I pray. Every. Single. Day.

Oh yeah...

I am With The Band.

Today, November 19, is National Adoption Day.

To celebrate all of the different points of view about adoption that we here at The Band know you have, we're running an adoption carnival.

What better way for us to learn more about YOUR experiences?

Were you adopted? Did you adopt? Are you an adult adoptee? Are you a first mother? Did you have a great experience? A miserable one?

We won't know until you tell us!

So, The Band, it's time to Band Back Together for adoption!

My mama always knew she was supposed to be a mother, so when she was told she could never have children, she was heartbroken. Only two months later, she received a phone call she never thought she would ever get; "Hello, this is the agency, we were wondering if you would still like to adopt a child?" My mama screamed yes and ran to find my daddy.  "Well, we have a red-headed, newborn girl and... she's spunky." That statement was when mama always said she fell in love with me - an Irish baby. She picked my name that night, and weeks later, they made the two hour drive to the city to pick me up.

I never really understood just how emotional that night was for everyone until mama showed me the photo album they made for her. She always said she wanted to take my birth mum home with her that night, too, but also how amazed she was at her strength and maturity.

That night was the longest for my parents.

They drove straight to their best friend's house and stayed for several hours, too excited to go home. Once at home, my mama started to panic. "They just gave me a six week old baby, and there isn't any preparation you can get. All I wanted was my mother nearby," she would tell me. Living across the country from all her family, she never felt more alone in her life then that night as she sat watching me in disbelief I was her daughter now.

She soon got the hang of parenting.

I remember the day the adoption was finalized, and I always knew growing up I was adopted. That never affected my relationship with my parents, and I would actually get in fights with other children at school who called my parents my "foster parents" my "fake parents" and my "step parents."

My mama was my best friend, we did everything together, and made it through all the drama of a mother/daughter relationship to reach the point where she was the one I would always talk to and gossip with. My daddy and I are really close as well. Being an only child, I got the best of both worlds: I grew up going to art museums and galleries with my mama and Fenway Park for baseball games with my daddy.

Their families never thought of me as an outsider, instead welcoming and raising me like I was their blood. Even today, I know that no matter what happens, they have my back. I was lucky to grow up in a very close-knit family, and even though we live 2500 miles apart, we can always call up or go visit for the summer and it felt like we had never left.

Mama raised me to be both artist and scientist, never pushing me to or away from anything except for God. She supported me in my dancing career and let me cry until I fell asleep with my head on her lap the day I was told I had to retire from professional dance. She told me that my now ex-boyfriend was no good, and when he completely shattered and betrayed me, it was the strength she taught me that is still helping me get through it and heal. She taught me how to use a camera and how to develop film in the darkroom, bought me my digital SLR camera for school, and helped me convince daddy that going from a university to a small, private art college was the best for me.

When people tell me (who have no idea what private adoption is and that many do have happy endings) that adoption doesn't work, I always ask them if they think my family is a good family, then tell them our story. My mama found out information about my birth family and when I turned 18, she gave me a file with my ancestry, knowing how much I wanted to know my blood history after growing up with stories of my family history.

A year later, we found my birth grandmum and wrote her a letter. Two weeks later, I sat on her lap as we read the email my birth mum sent us. Mama and I called and wrote to my birth mum many times every month, getting to know each other and planning when we could meet again.

My birth mum is now a mix of best friend, big sister, and aunt. She's someone I joke with, and I am so excited to have the chance to get to know her, her husband, and my two half-brothers. She will never replace my mama, but she is the woman that gave birth to me and picked the perfect family to raise me up to be both sensitive and insanely stubborn.

Mama was my inspiration in life: I always wanted to be just like her. Now, she's my angel.  She died in May from cancer, and I was lucky to have my daddy as well as my parents families and my birth families support during this time. Both sides of my life came together - my family and my blood family - and I am so lucky to have them all. My daddy and I have gotten closer, and every day I know my mama is next to me, helping me through the day.

This is my story in a nutshell. Adoption does work, and sometimes it can be the best thing to ever happen to a child  I am who I am because of the strength a young thirteen-year old girl made on the day she was forced to grow up  I am who I am because of the strength of an Irish mother who raised me up to be strong, and even now as I try to get through the day, I know she is here with me.

I will always be grateful to both my families, but more importantly, I am a child of adoption, and I will forever share my story.