The two headed snake

I once heard a saying, “The best way to get away from a two headed snake is to run in two different directions.”   I’m not sure what it means or if it even makes sense…but it does relate. My current quest consists of two separate but connected components.  

The first, as you’ve probably figured out is to make connections with my past.   Recapture something that I never knew I was missing.  Just being in Cambodia, will start a healing process in me, that I’ve needed for a long time.  When I was adopted, it was the norm to encourage children to “become American,” to embrace and acculturate into their new lives.   For me it wasn’t too hard, I was so young and had no understanding of my home country or culture.  And nothing was ever done to encourage me to explore my history or culture.   It was never a consideration for me to learn the language.  This was just the way it was.  I can’t blame my parents, they did what was proscribed by the culture as a whole.  I always knew I was different, I guess it wasn’t too hard to tell and it was always part of the conversation.  But it wasn’t focused on either. The first time I remember wondering was when I was with my mother in the mall.  I don’t think anyone else was with us.  I remember sitting with her at the playground and someone came up to us and yelled, “That better not be one of those Vietnamese Babies!” I could see the rage on my mother’s face, which quietly turned to calm resistance and defiance and she said, “No he’s not…he’s Cambodian.”  Later when I asked her about it, she said, “You are my baby, but some people can’t see it because they only see your skin, not your heart or mine.” I recognize that her words were amazing, but at the time…Ok. Why would they want to see my heart? That’s gross.  

Going into this I don’t know what I’m expecting. I feel that it will be good for me.  That it will be more than just a vacation…believe me I know this will not be a vacation.  But what it will turn out to be, that’s the question.   I know it will be really interesting to meet and get to know some real Cambodians…before I started this journey, I had never had a conversation with another Cambodian about being Cambodian.  Even still my experiences have been limited.  Maybe that will be it, maybe that is all I will get out of it…I don’t think so.  The saving grace for this is, regardless of how much I “get” out of this, I will be different on the other side...

I have no illusions about how hard this is going to be. On so many levels, I will have to reconcile two worlds.  The world of all the privileges I have with the world of people who didn’t get out.  I will be face to face with my privilege.  I have the financial stability to travel halfway around the world, and I’m worried about feeling sad.  It seems a bit out of place.   I’m going to have to keep this in mind…I hope I will gain a new perspective that will make me better.

The second quest I’m on in some ways is more personal and is closer to my life.  It is also filled with uncertainty.  I have been searching for the 20 orphans who came over with me.  This has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but never really took steps.   It was about a year ago when I found a World Vision Magazine about us.  My picture is in it, along with the pictures of five others.  I remembered seeing this before, but never really paid much attention.  Honestly, the kids who came over with me weren’t ever really something I thought much about…Maybe in passing moments when I would see someone and think maybe they were Cambodian, and maybe they were somehow related to my story.  But it never really dominated my thoughts…like it did that day I saw those pictures.  It was more than a light bulb…I started to cry…maybe I was realizing how alone I had been my whole life. And there were people out there who might have similar feelings.   It felt like there has always been this deep dark place where these feelings lived.  When I started reading the names and wondering about my brothers and sisters, I saw that they kind of looked like me, one even has the same surname as me…could she be my actual sister?  Imagine that, what if she was, and I’ve spent the last forty years not knowing her…what a waste. It wasn’t just her, there were people out there that I needed to know. 

It’s not completely accurate to say I did not remember any of the Baby Lifters (that’s what I call them because we came out as part of Operation Babylift).   The one person that I remember and remember having very fond memories of (I don’t have the memories, but I remember having them…Weird).   Was a boy named Thea.  The very limited non-memories I have (I’m getting old), are of me playing with him at a Christmas party, probably the last time a bunch of us were together.  I remember asking my mother if I could play with Thea again…it never happened.  I think I’ll talk more about Thea later.  

Another brush with reunion was the result of my mother having an aneurysm and being in a speech rehab group with a couple who had also adopted a babylifter named Eric. Over the years we tried to meet but it never happened for one reason or another…after this I was determined that it would happen.  We did meet, Eric and I, and it was all the things that should be, when brothers meet for the first time.   

Beyond these two, I would have to search.  Starting with the names I had…about three others and then who knows…enter Facebook, Social Media, a bit of what I feared was that I might come off as creepy and a whole lot of fear of rejection. 

I feel that telling the story of how I found each person, would be unfair, because I only know one side of the story.   I also feel like I intruded into their lives on my timeframe.  When I was actively searching on Facebook and Instagram or doing simple internet searches, I did not consider anything other than my desire to find them.  Now that I have found nearly all of us and have been in contact with most, I can take a step back and think how it must be.   Out of the blue some person whom you don’t know asks you about something you’ve not really thought about for forty or so years.  Something that could be painful. 

It took me this long to get to the point where I could handle it.  Other people might not be there yet.  I have also become aware that I was getting into a funk…Not really depressed but probably on that side of the spectrum.  This mostly came about because I did not hear from people when I thought I should.  I took it as a rejection…I know now that my interpretation is flawed…Even now, I have not heard from some people and if I think about it too much it can bring me down some. 

Among the people that I have made contact with, there are some really cool stories and some really great “conversations” that I’ve had, but I think I will hold off on most of those, probably until I actually meet them face to face, which I’m hoping will happen to some degree this Summer.

Note to the babylifters:  I will not use your name or anything about you individually unless I get your expressed permission.  You are my family and I never want anything to get in the way of that. 

Second note:  I don't think the two headed snake thing is actually a saying.