I’m Meeting Him Today

I’m writing this the night before. I have the dress I want to wear cleaned and wrinkle free. I bought boots that aren’t Docs. I have things set out for tomorrow. The only thing I’m missing is my binder with the different tabs for each class, and my Jansport.

I feel Christmas Eve mixed with “wait til your father hears about this.” My boyfriend and dog are asleep on either side of me and I just keep playing games on my phone. It’s hard to make words when you can’t even identify what you’re feeling.


  • What if he doesn’t like me?
  • What if he likes me a lot?
  • What if I get drunk?
  • What if he gets drunk?
  • What if I cry?
  • What if he cries?
  • What if neither of us cries?
  • “What if” by Creed (made famous by the Scream 3 soundtrack, sheeple)
  • What if his wife is upset by my existence?
  • What if a friend comes through where we’re meeting?
  • Do I have a show I said I’d do tomorrow that I’m forgetting about?
  • What if he still hasn’t told his kids we’re talking?
  • What if he and my boyfriend become best friends?
  • What if he wants to play catch?
  • What if he wants me to go hiking with him?
  • What if he wants to meet up again?
  • What if he doesn’t want to meet up again?
  • What if he brings up Roseanne?
  • What if he defends her?
  • What if he has seen my stand up?
  • What if he asks me to “say something funny”?
  • What if he asks about bio-mom?
  • What if he asks about my family?
  • What if I overshare
  • I will
  • What if I get wild?
  • What if I lose myself?
  • What if I lose my wallet?
  • What if I tuck my dress into my *fucking* underwear.
  • What if I audibly say “what the fuck, man…”
  • What if politics come up?
  • What if my parents taking corporeal punishment too far comes up?
  • What if I die at 6:45pm Friday?
  • What if he gets in a wreck?

Anyway – some of these may be less “measured” than others…

Don’t talk to me til I’ve had my morning, afternoon, evening, and night xanax tomorrow (Friday)

Let’s Talk About Adoption in Texas

Texas is full of the bizarre. I grew up with homecoming mums, a year of school dedicated to Texas state history, “ma’am”‘s, and Buc-ee’s. Like, my parents knew the Buc-ee’s guy. Someone buried 10 Cadillacs halfway in the ground, and people stand in the freezing plains to spray paint the parts above ground. People have so much Texas pride it spills over into arguments over what city makes the best breakfast tacos. From Vidor to Austin, political and religious beliefs run a gamut. There’s a mix of wealth and poverty, the refined and unrefined.  That said, when you see an election map, that huge, red piece in the bottom center — that’s Texas.

I don’t have much knowledge other than my experience and things I kind of know. I welcome you to do research if you’re looking to adopt or if it’s an option for your pregnancy to put your child up for adoption. It’s so important on either end to know everything you can about this decision. Know the difference between an open and a closed adoption, and the laws that protect you, your family, and the child. An open adoption is what you saw on Juno or Teen Mom OG. Neither of which I’d take as a true life experience, but it’s not mine, so I don’t have much to speak on. A closed adoption protects the identities of the birth parents and the adoptive parents from each other. It maintains the privacy of all involved.

My personal advice is to seek therapy before, during, and after your part of the process. Trust me, you’ll need it later and for worse reasons if you don’t jump on it.

When I was young, I desperately wanted to find my birth parents, mostly because my folks would ground me. Then I turned 17 years old, the age they were when they had me, and it clicked. I understood where they had been coming from, and honestly? I lost interest. With an understanding of the strong possibility they may not want to be found, and an understanding of their sacrifice, as well as my parents’ sacrifice, I just wan’t interested.

Almost ten years later, my brother (also adopted through a closed adoption) had been through some health things, and I had been diagnosed with high blood pressure. I wondered what else could be in store for me. At that time (2013), you had to fill out adoption registry paperwork, have it notarized, and mail it into the state with $35.00. For some reason, that felt weird. If you went into the registry and your bio-parent had gone into the registry, you had to meet – like some kind of fight club for adoption reunions. That also felt weird. Like, what if I changed my mind and didn’t want to meet them? I don’t get a say in it? I’m sure the forced hour-long therapy session prior to the forced meeting was run by a totally competent counselor who surely had your best interest in mind. Certainly they’d know your intricacies well enough within an hour to tell you how you’d be affected… It all felt weird.

I never sent it in. Five years later, my brother had told me about meeting some half siblings through 23andMe. Then, I got targeted on St. Paddy’s Day and doubled down for the ancestry and the health results. I ended up finding out a lot about myself I never knew, and very quickly finding my birth parents; even though they had not done a 23andMe…

A Foreword to How I Met My Mother

If you know me, or have seen me tell jokes in the last 8 years, you know that I’m adopted. Through 23andMe and a little light Googling, I successfully located my biological mother. I’ve been open with my side of the experience in waves as it comes, but I think it’s important to build out and share my story.

For the sake of privacy, real names will be redacted, save for mine. I didn’t know where I wanted to share this story, but I’m paying for this domain, so – why not? In future blogs, I will be sharing stages of my past, present, and future as it comes. So, for those who have been asking me to write this out and share it – here we go…