Saturday, 11 October 2014


Hello Readers. Not often do I deviate from adoptee stuff and Asian stuff. But due to how my week has not been going.. These articles that promote slut shaming, and even for woman to slut shame themselves are really pissing me off. Especially when some of them are written by woman, but I'm only seeing men reposting. 

There's a few articles floating around about marketing tools to get ladies outdoors. They prose that female empowerment does not come from being naked on top of a mountain. All of the authors say being sexy is ok, but being over sexed or "letting" yourself  be viewed as a sex object isn't ok and that it's not feminist.

You know what is not feminist? Calling yourself a god damn feminist, by actively using that label you're saying all woman that don't identify as such are bad woman! I don't think any woman "let's herself" be objectified. Some people have sexual openness a lot of people would call "slutty". Some woman have been molested so many times, choosing to be bra-less takes back their sexual control. Being bra-less at summit is freer than the high of reaching the edge. BE YOURSELF.

This IS NOT a marketing problem. This IS NOT a female only problem. THIS IS American views on sexuality and gender roles, finally catching up with people. But these authors and re-posters are attacking how woman should view themselves, vs changing how everyone should view and treat woman. Self respect doesn't mean to hide your sexuality. It means be as sexy and nude as you want, the self respect kicks in when you don't let jerks slut shame you for it!

Be as naked as you want to be, hell strip on the top of a mountain! Do not let any man or woman slut shame you into saying all you're doing is letting yourself be objectified. Also, for you jerks that think female models just strip down, wear clothes that men make, and then get objectified in adds.. PLEASE FUCK OFF!!

I really doubt any high end brands or outfitting brands are making clothes so that woman will wear them and become better targets for sexual predictors. Getting sexually assaulted or viewed as only a sex object is not about the clothes you wear or why you wear them, it's 100% the thoughts of those viewing you. You are not responsible for others' thoughts. You are not "asking for it".

If you're into slut shaming, you're on my list of people who suck.


Growing Up In White Schools

Hello Readers. This week I was triggered by a few different jerks saying ignorant white boy things. This resulted me in crying for days. Not sleeping, constant weeping, helplessness.. About every sexual assault since I was a little girl. I know I've talked about this before. In fact I speak and write on it all the time, but what I don't do is feeeel it. I get angry, but never sad. I scream because I'm pissed. It's clinical, I don't let myself feel hurt. For once I really felt the emotional scars; I felt like a victim.

What are "ignorant white boy things"? It's saying  something that's racist because being a white male forces you to be racially ignorant. For example saying your sad for me because I don't feel romantic emotions during sex is not ok. You do not get to treat me like a victim. The people of your race and culture literally raped away me feeling love with sex. You do not, get to pitty me for the common social actions of your people. You do, get to own it and evoke racial and sexual change within your own people. Before all the white guys send out angry messages (gmail/twitter @KangSunLee1991 ^_< ):

1) Saying something racist, does not mean you are a racist. Not intending for your statement to be racist or even about race, does not mean that it's not racist or not about race.
2) Being ignorant does not mean you are stupid. It means you aren't capable of fully understanding something. As a white male you can never understand what it means to be a brown person.


For those of you that didn't grow up in Lakeville, it's a different kind of MN town. Most people call it a small version of Edina or Bloomington, but those cities are more spread out. This means there's all sorts of ethnic pockets hiding around town, but Lakeville is densely white. I shit you not, psychologists in the area make note of how extremely white Lakeville is. 

This is what I grew up with in Lakeville schools:

To my peer's.. To my adoptive sister's peers. We grew up in the same America. You were my classmates; we grew up together in the same town and neighborhoods. We had the same teachers and studied in the same classrooms. We shared desks and were lab partners.. But you were white and I was yellow. I grew up being publicly sexually assaulted, molested, and sexually humiliated threw out my attendance of the Lakeville school system.. Not by a teacher or staff, but by my classmates. Our peers, our friends, your siblings, boys from families we all knew.

It started in 4th grade and didn't stop till college. It was apart of my everyday life. I was groomed by many hands, and I got fucking used to it. I did not have a choice. For those of you who went to Lake Marion Elementary, let me take you to the old wooden playground...

After lunch we'd all run out, my friends and I ran to the big silver slide in front. It was connected to the jungle gym, and just behind that there was a big blue rope net. It was so fun to climb on and lay in.. The first time I was sexually assaulted I was standing in front of that net.. When my classmate grabbed me I looked directly up to the curb where one of the two playground staff stood. She was right there. He was grabbing me, hurting me, violating me, and I stared at her to do something, but she kept her gaze behind her black sunglasses.. She glanced around the playground, her head going side to side, not noticing me. It killed me! How could she miss me?

The next day I hide under the slide and cried. That was the first and last time I remember crying over being hurt. I remember her spotting me under there a few times, but she never walked over or said anything. At the time I was a little girl, amazed that no one had seen a thing, convinced that no one had seen nothing. My brain could not handle living in a world where people could see the worst and not try to help. But now I don't need to convince myself of anything to survive.

I have zero doubts. She saw me! Other kids saw me! He knows what he did! No one help me! No one stopped him! This set me up to be constintalty revitiumized for the rest of my life!! The scent never goes away, a predator can spot an Asian woman from a mile away, and if she's been abused before he can spot her from 10 miles away. I am lucky that I'm good at profiling, because some of the best profilers in the world are predictors.

While you were getting high fives in front of the tiled Panther in North's cafeteria, and enjoying pep rallies in South's giant glass gym, I was being dragged into stairwells and forced on my knees like a "good Asian girl". There was one time in particular.. The first time a classmate told me to get under the stairs was at Lakeville South. The school officer must have seen us ditching class on camera and started looking for us. We caught his reflection walking towards us in the glass. We stepped out. My makeup was wrecked. I was trembling with shame. My abuser was holding my hand. The school officer looked hard at my face, then told us, "Get to class".

In the theater the rule of thumb is if you can see the audience, they can see you. Step back from the side curtains or you're wrecking the illusion. Sometimes an audience member shouts that they can see a flouting head. But the rest of them stay silent, they try to keep the illusion going that it's characters not actors.. I wish someone had shouted out when they saw my head peeping through the curtain. But I'm an adult now, and I will gladly rip down the curtain for you! I want everyone to know what really happened back stage.

I always remember these 2 cases the best. I think it's because they are the only times I know for sure someone saw and knew something was wrong. I wonder how many classmates and staff members actually saw and knew it was bad. It happened so many times during school hours, school events, and even the places my friends and I hung out at on the weekends.

Is it at all possible no one saw? Or do white people really think this is what Asians are there for? Please think on this.. Please try to remember to when we were kids. Do you remember my round face flouting between curtains? Begging the audience for help.

You were white and I was Asian. We grew up in the same America. But I was treated differently because of my skin color, while you got high fives.


Tuesday, 30 September 2014

A Word From My Cat.

Hello Readers. It's been just over a month, and so much has changed. Let's get to it.

First off, my adoptive (KAD) sister visited. That sucked. Her white husband and mixed baby came too. They didn't speak to me and I didn't speak to them, but from what I did hear around the house they have no clue their kid is half Asian. It makes me really sad to see interracial parents treat their children as if the white parental pushed out a white child on their own. I know have many adoptees that are popping out first babies and second babies, and I am so happy to see their kids eating Korean food! Or in the infants' case smelling kimchi mmm ^_^ Some of them even have Korean names! It's so great to see adoptees reclaiming their Korean culture and teaching their kids from birth.

With that shit out of the way here's was second: Korean Culture Camp. This summer the white Adoptive parents of the teen helpers didn't talk to me much. Which is fine because I have zero respect for their appropriation of my culture, and they show zero respect for me as an adult adoptee or as a brown person. The Korean teacher from 2 years ago that gave one of my kids a mental/emotional breakdown was still there. She yet again made kids uncomfortable, and was extremely unfair pinning the campers against each other. I will be applying to be a teacher next year. If they don't fire that bad teacher and finally hire me, I will quite KCC. There's plenty of other adoptee camps that want my level of experience.

What's next? DATING!! The last couple of months I've really been dating for romantic emotions vs penis feelings. Meaning No Romping On A First Date! This means I actually get to know a fella; there's a chance for me to give a shit about him. Where's Double D? In his car, extra wasted, with a half naked-unconscious girl in the passenger seat. Where is my heart? Excited over all the new things its been trying. I'm into meeting organically lovely men. Who knows where my tummy butterflies lead will to.

Lastly, Birth searching.. Still nothing great to tell you. My American caseworker is still waiting on the hard copy of my original search. But while we wait she sent me a digital copy of the letter I wrote.. I'm amazed over how much of it I find to be stupid and unimportant. There's so many things I want to tell my birthmother now that run deeper. Updating the search and then letting it float for the rest of my life.. This is one of the last legs of the journey. The one after this is saying goodbye and fully accepting.. She's gone.

On a lighter note: If you didn't know, I have a tubby black cat named Pumpkin. He says, 


Tuesday, 19 August 2014

The Sky Is Falling, Again.

Hello Readers. I feel really alone, and hopeless, and reckless, and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to keep getting better, but I've hit this huge wall. And I don't have a support group.

I'm not as close to the KADs as I would like to be, but I'm not sure I can really be super close with any of them. I guess I'm too young to expect more than hanging out at group calendar events. That sucks.

Double D isn't speaking to me again. For the second time he's freaked out and threw me out of his life. Part of me hates that I'm trying to get better, and he's not. I thought all the stuff with him stemmed from my adoptive dad, and part of that is true. I stay with him, fighting, hoping, begging for him to finally see me for a change. It's exactly like my relationship with my adoptive mom. 

School. I feel like I should give up on any education.

Finding a new job is still a struggle. I don't have the grit to really hang with environmental activists. I don't have the morals to work in high end retail and corporate offices.. But I was raised in that world, I know it well, and I have the personality for it. I have all the 3 piece suits, nice dresses, and sweater sets for it. Maybe some us were just meant to die in a suit. Just let the black cloth snuff your light out kids. This is why our parents drink. 

I know I'm young. I know I am only 23, and that finding myself is a joke at this age. But I need to know now.

My birthmother was 24 when she was raped, got pregnant, had me, and then gave up her first child. I turn 24 this year. I was born on February 24th. It's my golden birthday and the same age my mother was, and realizing this has been killing me for weeks. I haven't even told my therapist yet. 

I am here, but I am drowning again. I'm screaming, and crying, and gasping for air.

I am terrified.


Friday, 25 July 2014

Sex Addiction.

Hello Readers. I wrote this post last Saturday, but I've been afraid to upload it. I've wondered what my friends will think. I've worried about possible employers reading this. I'm scared of what my new KAD friends will think of me.. What Double D will think of my new ailment.

Many of you have expressed concern from my last post, so let's start out with: Yes, sex addiction is a real form of negative coping like using drugs, alcohol, or self mutilation. I do agree with my therapist, that lately my sex positive lifestyle hasn't been a 100% positive. For a clear example of this wreckless coping behavior: I was out with KADs last Friday night, and right at 2am I drove myself home. As I made my way back I tried calling Double D. Twice, but his phone was dead..

My heart sunk. I wanted him to answer, or finally have a real voice machine set up.. I wanted to hear his voice. I missed him. And as I drove further in these thoughts of heart ache I have rarely experienced.. I passed a semi truck. It was pulled over with bright orange triangles out. I'm sure the driver was indeed of some emergency sleep, but I thought.. "Right there. There's a man, and I know he would want me. He wouldn't say no. I don't care what he looks like, I just need it hard till my whole body hurts.." That's when my eyes started to well up. That is the exact thoughts of a sex addict.

Instead of a bottle, or pills, or a razor blade.. I find a man. I find high risk sexual behavior. It's scary because I do live a sex-positive lifestyle. Meaning all sex is safe, consensual, and shameless. But lately.. when I have sex it's to cover up the heart ache. To feel something I can deal with vs feeling something I don't know how to deal with. It's escape, and time leaps, and it's as terrifying as being molested.. It's like you're molesting yourself, you're numb.

Thankfully I got a grip and didn't pull over to the truck. Thankfully I cranked up James Blunt's "Goodbye My Lover", and worked on mindfully accepting it's ok to miss someone. It's perfectly acceptable to still be reeling from a loss. When I parked at home, I took a minute to sit in my car and just be sad. I looked up at the bright half moon, and suddenly I started paying attention to my music.

"It's disgusting, how I love you.
God, I hate me. I could kill you.
Cause your messing up my name.
Gotta walk my talk my fame, but I just want to touch your face.
It's disgusting.
It's disgusting, how you changed me.
From a bandit to a baby."

It reminded me how a month ago I told him I wouldn't bring him to a KAD event, because I didn't want them to meet him just for him to disappear. I wish I had told him the bigger reasons.. That he is one of the most important people in my life, and I would love for him to meet my new KAD friends. But I was scared showing him how important he was would scare him off. There's a lot of things I wish I had said, but never did..

I should have helped see his parents off every time they went on a trip. I should have gone to brunch with them when he asked. I should have ask him to come when my adoptive parents wanted him to come to dinner. I should have made him feel as safe with me, as I wanted to feel with him.

Last time I felt anything like this I was 15. My 15 year old boyfriend and I had lost our virginities to each other, then a few weeks later he turned his phone off all weekend. Then he sent a bunch of long texts breaking up with me. To be fair the kid was becoming an alcoholic. Of course Double D is a high functioning alcoholic, so there's that. I've never experienced a break up that I haven't wanted before, and I don't know how to handle it.

I am finally mentally ready to love, to share my happiness with someone. I'm bettering myself in so many ways, but my heart hurts so damn much all the god damn time! My heart hurts so much that it'd rather be used up in meaningless brutal sex, than have to deal with not holding his hand. I wish I understood this kind of heart ache better. 

Right now I feel like my heart is on fire. I am so full of passion and ready to pour it all out for him. I wish I could give him everything I should have said and done and supported him, so he would know how much he mattered. So he would know I loved him. He's been deeper into my heart than anyone.. Now that I've been burned so badly, I'm scared I'll never let someone in that deep again.


I know when I see him next, I'll be as cold as when we first met. I'll deny I loved him. I'll deny him leaving me broke my heart. I'll deny any of it was special. I'll act like none of it was real.. I won't even tell him how much I miss my best friend. I need to protect myself again, and start replacing 2 years of fallen walls.

Ultimately, the new bricks I lay down won't matter. I can deny being heartbroken all I want, but the truth has been stated right here: I am crying my eyes out over a boy, and I am being treated for sex addiction.

I fell so hard for him Readers.. And I don't know how to get back up.


Monday, 14 July 2014

F/23 Single Sexaholic Seeks: A Romantic Gym Partner.

Hello Readers. It's been a long time. I've been pretty emotional, and have had a lot of downs lately. I'm trying really extra hard in therapy, and running 3 miles a day to get healthy. It's perfectly chilly out today, and for me sweater weather is good writing weather. Let's dive in, I've missed you all dearly.

To get it out of the way, I am now romantically and emotionally single, Double D left me last week. After 2 years of me not being ready and asking for space, he's ready to better himself on his own. I know it's psychologically healthiest for him and even for me, but that does not make me stop loving him. He has completely blocked me out.. He wanted outer space, and we all deserve to chase unending stars.

Now for the good stuff.

Therapy is going great! I'm working on more reprocessing therapy to break down the emotional power I allow white men to have over me. When I have an emotional connection to a white male, his thoughts of me matter more than my views of myself. Even if I know he doesn't think of me negatively, and I don't think of me negatively, I still feel it. And it makes me feel like utter shit like fights with my adoptive mom. Probably because me and my adoptive dad don't talk enough to have fights.

Working on this has been a work out for my emotions, especially how I romantically relate to men. Intimacy and romance.. Doesn't absolutely terrify me anymore. I want sunny, warm, happy, giggling romance. And with every hug, kiss, smile, and early morning dash from their bed to my work I want to feel it bubble up and bloom ^_^

Also, my sexcapades of me having sex how men have sex to take back the power that was molested away from me.. Well there's been a recent spike in the amounts of partners I have. My therapist said, "Wow. Ok Morgan, that is a lot of sex. I think we can safely say you're a sex addict." I can totally still have sex, as long as I don't seek it being I'm bored or upset. Really we don't think of it as a big addiction problem. I'm using some thing I normally use to build up my personal power, as a coping behavior. As long has I cope in a mindful way, and build sexual powerful separately, it's fine.

So there's that, ha. *cough cough*

Now that you can see my mental health is fairing well, or at least being delt with healthily. Let's catch up on the birthsearch. This should take 10 seconds. I'm still, waiting for my American case worker to come back from her trip in Korea. She's bringing back my searching letter and photos, I will then update the letter and photos. From there we'll submit the new search. Boring I know, Tada.

Shall we end on some good healthy feels?

This past week I've been running 3 miles everyday, eating much healthier, and just feeling damn great! I'm really motivated and excited to loose 150lb, so I'll be a sweet little 90lb girl. Now I'm Korean, 5'1", and only 23. 90lb is not crazy. In all honesty I probably won't be a 90lb girl, because I do want some muscle and shit. And for those of you struggle to do the math I am currently 240lb.

The combination of working out everyday, eating healthy food, controlled amounts of food, gluten free when possible, lactose free, kimchi everyday, but not depriving myself of the goods.. I am feeling pretty awesome! 

So that's it for this post guys. All in all I'm feeling focused, ready to open the happy, and pretty damn good ^_^. Also, thank you for being so great! I love being candid with you all in my posts, and my emails back to you. If you need anything, have questions, or comments please feel free to contact me on Twitter and Gmail @KangSunLee1991


Tuesday, 27 May 2014

Room For Marriage?

Hello Readers. Yesterday I had a real perfect day.. I felt so truly content and just happy. I spent the morning and early afternoon with KADs at a BBQ to kick off our summer events. Then I hit the water park at Mall of America with a few white friends. Finally I rounded off the evening with dinner and park time with one of my best gal pals. But a couple friends had asked me the same question: If I could ever see myself fully committing to someone in marriage. Before today I had always said yes and that it was something I wanted. Now I'm not so sure about the yes.

Why am I scared of relationships now? There's a number of reasons that any person could have, but then there's reasons that are just me. I am scared that no one will love me enough for me to stay with them. I'm scared that no one will love me enough to make up for the loss of my birth mother.. I know it's not a husband's job to do, but I'm not sure if I'll ever let go of her enough to make room for a husband. I fear I will always love her more and put her first. Letting her go so that my relationships can move forward is terrifying. It's like letting her slip through my fingers to hold someone else's hand. That just feels... So wrong.

I have this feeling I'll never find her or any of my birthfamily, and on some level I can accept that. But letting things go to move forward makes the little girl inside of me scream, what if I compleat loose my mother? As a young adult I know that letting my birthmother go a little would be incredibly healthy, but little KangSun just refuses it.

At the rate I'm letting go, I'll never have a free hand for someone to marry.


Friday, 9 May 2014

Mother's Day Weekend 2014.

Hello Readers. Do you know what this weekend is? It's Mother's Day on Sunday. As a kid I had to celebrate it (as well as Father's Day), but as a young adult I sneak out of it. In the case of my adoptive family's situation I don't feel comfortable celebrating such holidays. But I also hate birthdays and Christmas. This weekend my adoptive mom flew in my pregnant adoptive sister. They have the whole weekend planned with dinners, shopping, and ending with brunch with my maternal adoptive grandma.

They have the whole weekend planned.

My adoptive mom keeps texting me updates, and I just.. I simply don't feel like I belong to any of these family outings, and it makes me really sad. Yesterday I was talking to my therapist racking my brain as to why my adoptive mom was flying her out when she'd be flying out to see the baby in summer. Then it hit me; my adoptive sister is going to be *a mother*.  I don't feel like a sister or an aunt, and I didn't even realize my adoptive sister as a mother-to-be. That's how disconnected to her I am.

I am so friggen stressed over seeing her at Sunday brunch that.. I can't sleep at all. The other night I cut off 3 small pieces of my skin. The person she is when she's not under someone's thumb, when she is so comfortable she's being weirder than me.. That's the funny silly creeper I miss.

I grew up with this woman, only four years apart, and we have become compleat strangers. All we have in common now is the paperwork.

I miss my birthmother..

This sucks.


Tuesday, 1 April 2014

Birthsearch: Revamped.

Hello Readers! Last night I made a big decision regarding my birth search. I am very excited to tell you about it, but first let me get you up to speed on the last 8 months.

When I got back from Korea I was so upset I ignored the emails from my American case worker. I finally read them at the end of October and she told me I order return my search to active, if have to get my paper work in the next shipment to Korea. This meant I had to get it all done by Halloween, and bring my paperwork in the next morning. Instead I got scared, called Double D, and promptly totaled my car. (Also maybe you readers made the connection of my paper working being due and me wanting to seeing Double D, but NONE of my friends did.) After that I never got back to my American case worker, and have been ignoring my "inactive search". 

When I was in Korea and met with my Korean case worker, Mrs.Hong, she told me new things about my case like how my grandmother knew about me and was there for my mother. She had this big thick file in front of us.. My file.. And I wish I had just taken it and run down the street and hopped in a cab. I've been kicking myself for the past 8 months for not doing that.

*Now here's the latest my search*

Last night I finally emailed my American case worker, and told her it's game on! I asked her to send me all the paper work I needed, and the guidelines for writing letters and sending photos. I am compleat lay revamping every aspect of my search. I also asked her to connect me with all parts of the Korean media. I want my face out there, I want my story out there, because somewhere is a person who knows me. How amazing and terrifying is that!? Somewhere in Korea is someone who knows who I am.

Last time I was going to do this I got freaked out and thought holding someone's hand would make it easier. But I totaled my car, and while after we could all joke it was a universal sign about me and Double B.. Maybe it was a universal sign that I need to do this search alone. I can't find my birthmother with only one hand, while the other is holding onto a boy for support. 

This time I am my own support. With no romance to hold one hand back, I am going in with both fists punching! I have so many other things to share with you all, but that will have to be in the next blog.


Wednesday, 26 March 2014

First Trip Home. [Part One]

Hello Readers. I know that for months I've promised to start talking about what happened in Korea.. And I haven't yet. I haven't with anyone because it hurts so much to think of the loneliness, the humiliation, and the lack of acceptance that happened there.

I did talk to a fellow adoptee, Big M, a few times during the trip.. He told me that being in Korea would never be perfect, that I needed to focus on the good that happened. I told him that I didn't want to talk about it further and for now I just wanted to be mad, and angry, and hurt. I think the only person in my life that has a real sense of what happened there is my adoptive mom. She was one of the few people that wasn't in this fish tank with me. I could send her emails filled with screams, swearing, and anger. Even though her words were nothing helpful and even triggering, I needed to vent. I knew she could handle it, angry me is about the only side of me she response to.

It got to the point that I was begging for my adoptive parents to change my flight and get me a ticket back to the states.. Because there were weekends when I stayed in my form alone and just cried over all the drama between the adoptees. Not even Double D knows what really happened in Korea. I don't think I even fully expressed my low points to the adoptees I met there who are now long life friends.

I do love Korea, it is my home.. But it's a love hate relationship, with constant self explanation and cultural negotiation. I am ready to talk about what really happened in Korea. I'm not sure if I'll be posting it all on here quite yet. However, I am ready to start talking about it with my therapist. From there maybe a friend or two, maybe a Double D or something. For now I wanted you guys know that my silence on the subject wasn't forever. It was a bandaid to hold off the blood until I was ready to deal with the pain.

I've been back in the states for 8 months now, and it's time to take off the bandages and deal with the scars.


Monday, 24 March 2014

My Trip Home & Therapy.

Hello Readers. I know that for months I've been saying I'm going to start talking about what happened in Korea.. And I haven't yet. I haven't with anyone because it hurts so much to think of the loneliness, the humiliation, and the lack of acceptance that happened there.

I did talk to a fellow adoptee, Big M, a few times during the trip.. He told me that being in Korea would never be perfect, that I needed to focus on the good that happened. I told him that I didn't want to talk about it further and for now I just wanted to be mad, and angry, and hurt. I think the only person in my life that has a real sense of what happened there is my adoptive mom. She was one of the few people that wasn't in this fish tank with me. I could send her emails filled with screams, swearing, and anger and it's a side of Morgan that she's used too.. Even though her words were nothing helpful and even triggering, I needed to vent. I knew she could handle it. 

It got to the point that I was begging her to change my flight and get me a ticket back to the states. Begging her and my adoptive dad to please get me state side.. Not even Double D knows what really happened in Korea. I don't think I even fully expressed my low points to the adoptees I met there who are now long life friends.

I do love Korea, it is my home.. But it's a love hate relationship, with constant self explanation and cultural negotiation. I am ready to talk about what really happened in Korea. I'm not sure if I'll be posting it all on here quite yet, but I am going to start talking about it with my therapist. From there maybe a friend or two, maybe a Double D or something.

I thought I should let you guys know that my silence on the subject wasn't forever. It was nearly a bandaid to hold off the blood until I was ready.


Monday, 24 February 2014

Dear Mother, 23rd Anniversary.

Dear Mother --

Today I'm 23. That's 23 years older, wiser, and missing you dearly. When thinking of our heartbreaking goodbye 23 years ago, I always listen to "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World. You feel like this perfect glowing angle and a haunting ghost. You are why I wake when the sun rises, and you are my dreams when the sunsets. I think the world of you, and I want you to know that you made the right choice. Of course I'd give anything to have grown up with you in my life, and I'd jump off a cliff in hopes of flying to be with you right now.. But I know you did what you had to do, I will forever love you for that. 

Happy anniversary Mother,
I hope you're lots in thoughts of me too.

- KangSun

23rd Birthday.

Hello Readers. Today I turn 23, and it's been the most filling year of my life. So much has happened, been accepted, and tried. I got my license, fell in love, learned what a job was, and most importantly I went back home to Korea..

This year has been filled with tears as wide as the Han river, smiles bursting with sunshine, and even real feelings of friendship. But even with all the warmth I have to celebrate, there is still permafrost devouring my heart. Today also marks 23 years without my birthmother.

Generally I start my birthday off with a free morning coffee, and a blog. I like to be alone in the morning so I can use every second to be mindful of my life. I give myself time to reflect and mourn the lost years of my birthmother. This day is more special than something as simple as a birthday. It's the first day we met, a day only she remembers, a day I can only dream about. It's also the day we had to loose each other..

When the late afternoon hits I do whatever I have planned with friends. This year I'm meeting L.N. for my free birthday Grand Slam breakfast at Denny's. She's a lovely lady I've know for 7 years; I'm excited to see her on my birthday and gab. After I'll see Double D and I'm feeling on keeping everything low key today. I'm thinking we order Tak Shing and watch My Sassy Girl, or maybe go get Insomnia Cookies ^^.

On Wednesday I'm meeting my favorite pals at The Varsity Theater to get down to some DJ hipster jams. There will me s'mores cupcakes, and my famously potent jello ^_~.

Normally I hate my birthday, but the past 2 years.. I feel a little happy to be around, even a pinch happy.


Thursday, 6 February 2014

My Birthmother & Little Kang.

Hello Readers. My birthmother is my hot topic of everyday life. She's this epic dream I've been wishing for since I was a baby. I feel like she's in a coma and all I have to do is wake her up, but it is so goddamn hard to wake her up. She's just lost somewhere in her brain, sleeping.. She's like a ghost to me and when I cry and scream all I can do is hope some of it gets through the static to her..

I know I need to grow up and move on, but Kang is the little Korean girl inside of me.. And she's terrified of caring about other things. I don't want to let go of that little girl's hand.. I am the only person who has ever held it, and if I let Kang go she could be lost forever sobbing for her mother. I know it's absurd, but letting life progress without my mother terrifies me. I know I don't need her in my life to be an adult, but.. I wish I hadn't grown up without her. I wish I could call her up and ask how to be an adult.

I can't keep dreaming of a ghost everyday anymore. I have to let little Kang go and allow the adult me to step into life. I can't keep living every goddamn moment in the darkness of being sad, depressed, and angry.. It's completely exhausting.

Naturally I'm taking all this turmoil out on my white friends, and Double D. Being so scared and insecure of letting this dream go gets acted out as me being an extra dick about everything that adult me is sure of and believes in. Like dreaming of a utopia is stupid because everyone is a lying asshole, Best Buy is downsizing in ways the public has yet to understand, and I need people's feelings stated in words and actions to accept that they care.

Also, because I know I'll get a bunch of emails from white people, adoptive parents, as well as my white friends who all think they have "relatable insight" on this, you don't. You just don't This IS NOT like giving up pokemon cards or your baby blanket.

I want to scream. I wish I had branched out and became friends with adoptees my own age. I wish I could talk to an adoptee going through letting their childhood fantasies go..

I'm facing giving up on my dream, my ghost mother, in order to move forward and start living. We all need to grow up one day, but what's the difference between giving up and growing up?


Thursday, 30 January 2014

Buried Alive.

Hello Readers. Everything in my life has changed.

At work for they told me I had 2 choices: Go all in and really try to make a home, or get fired at the end of the month. Of course I go out of my way to stay cold and never stay for long, so I put in my 2 weeks. I have a couple weird options going, but mostly I've started looking for men's retail jobs. Yesterday was my last day. Hurray!

School makes me want to scream and I don't want to talk about it. I will say I'm seeing my therapist again on a weekly basis, and I love her to bits.

Things are a roller coaster with Double D. A lot of stuff built up and hit the fan, there was an explosion, and then silence for 2 months. We talked it out last night. While being vulnerable is scary, we both want monogamy, so we're trying the relationship thing again. This time we're going in slow and understanding there is a learning curve.

I still haven't restarted my search, but today I'm drafting a new letter to my birth mother. I'm also taking new pictures, and will finally hand all this to my case worker. Speaking of adoptee stuff, me and a couple girls from the trip have remained very close. It's hard to be vulnerable and let other adoptees know how insane I am, but it's good to know they understand when I'm half crying for chicken and beer. They are my ladies and I hope we can all meet up this summer ^_^

I want to apologize for not being around since Korea. I just don't want to think about Korea, or making a home, or anything that entails moving on from that trip. I'm scared this second search will yield nothing, and that will only pushing moving on closer to the present.

I can't imagine saying goodbye to the woman I never got to have in my life. I know holding out on this dream makes the rest of my life seem like a nightmare. I got fired after a year at work, not because I'm a fucking idiot who doesn't know how to develop her skills to be better.. But because I refused to want to be there, to try, to care about any of my coworkers. 

Caring about things and making little homes pushes my mother further away. I've refused being a team player and letting anyone in my whole life, because I'm scared to let anyone fill in the holes she left. Caring about things other than her, letting other priorities fill those holes.. It buries her alive..

But I am going to try so hard to allow myself to care about other parts of my life and the people in it. That's the real change here.


Sunday, 19 January 2014

The Paparazzi Says It's True.

Hello Readers. I really hate all of these celebrities being treated like gods for buying babies from Africa. It sickens me that they exploit their adoptive children for good publicity.

Before the celebrities there were regular adoptive parents. People with money, but by no means famous. Before the cameras there were churches and communities praising them for "saving" their boughten adoptive children. Korean adoptees were like adopting the best dog breed. We were sold as quiet and sweet, submissive and well mannered.. American adoption agencies literally called us, "the other white meat".

We were the only non-Caucasians in town. Dealing with gawks and stares for being this exotic child growing up, while my adoptive mom was praised and asked about her find.. Being told how lucky I was to be "saved", always being reminded of the privilege I had received through adoption, constantly holding in my grief.. As a child I knew what I had lost; I begged, screamed, and cried myself to sleep for my birthmother. Since I was a child I was forced to privately mourn the loss of my family and culture.

Even today people still have their opinions on how good adoption is. At school, at work, my closest friends.. all total strangers has to how I grew up. Everyone constantly saying my adoptive parents are great and love me. These strangers do not know how adoption works! Buying a child does not mean you saved them. You couldn't have your own and you were forced to buy to have a family. No child will replace not having biological children.

If I am so lucky, if I am so loved, if adoption is all the good the paparazzi say it is.. Then why do we cry for our birth parents? Why do we go back to our motherlands? Why do we search for our birth families? WHY DO WE HAVE THE HIGHEST SUCIDE RATES IN THE WORLD!! WHY ARE THERE FARMS OF ADOPTEES WHOSE ADOPTIVE PARENTS COULDN'T MAKE IT A FOREVER HOME!! WE ARE NOT DOGS!! YOU CANNOT RETURN TO SENDER ANYMORE!! WE ARE NOT YOUR CAT YOU CANNOT RENAME US!!

We stand together and mourn a loss of culture you stole from. We are child soldiers in the battle of race and ethnicity. We live in fear that our families don't know we exist, and in terror that our families are dead. We are generations of babies taken from homes, exploited from our culture by white culture. Our dying wish is to know who we are, and be happy with it.

We are the lost children of Korea.