Unexpected

2012 continues to bring things unexpected, things wonderful, interesting, and perplexing. I am sure it will bring heartache and pain. But for now, I am not courting it.

My aparents did the DNATribes testing for themselves this past fall. Genealogy is a favorite hobby of theirs, as I have written before, and they were curious about their deep ethnic roots. My adad's family is strictly Norwegian, at least back four centuries, so we expected his test to reveal strict Norse roots. Nope. He is many things, but up top he is Tajik and Basque! Very curious. I guess his ancestors brought women back from all over the map and they interbred in their little fjord of Norway. Fascinating. My amom was Chinese and Irish and all kinds of things. A mutt with curious origins.

Then for Christmas, they gave me my own DNA kit. I thought it was a fabulous gesture. They didn't want me to be left out, and of course, I am an unknown on many counts. Especially where my sperm donor is concerned. So I did the swab a couple of weeks ago and sent it off. I really thought I would come back very mutty, probably largely half Jewish. Jewish people have often assumed I am one of them over the years. Why not? I figured the test would simply verify what I already knew, and that it would just be a way to underscore my link to the non-identifying information I had about my nfather: the East Coast educated, intellectual guy (that I chose to read as Jewish).

The results were a shock. I am half Spanish/Basque! Wow. The rest is the expected UK/Celtic components from C, with a little Greek and Italian thrown in probably from my nfather, as well. I told C about this, and she said that it makes sense; she still doesn't know who he is, but since she was a Spanish major, it is likely she was attracted to a Spaniard/Basque. Holy shit. I don't look Spanish, at least I don't think so, but then again, I have been to Spain, and there are many ways to look Spanish. My Spanish is rudimentary to say the least. It is the last language I ever studied, and I did so just before nursing school for professional purposes (crudely, I say I speak vagina Spanish). I love Spanish history, but I know next to nothing about the Basques. It is incredible to know a little bit more about myself, and maybe now I can explain my strange obsession with Catholicism and self-flagellation. LOL

I do have a print of Goya's El Perro Semihundido hanging in my bedroom; I brought it back from Madrid in 2001. Mark said that I was the senorita semihundida. Clever.

I am also feeling incredibly close to C and my brother. I don't know how to explain it. I am not certain exactly what has changed. Maybe things really do work out in the end sometimes. There are so many war stories, so many disappointments, so many sadnesses in the world of adoption. So much time lost, so many ways to hurt each other, so many possibilities to continue to be lost to one another. But we seem to be working through it. I am relieved that they can see me for who I am and love me anyway. I know I could make it through without their support, but it wouldn't feel this amazing. Their validation is so warm.

I had a rough time at work last night. I am not the best person at IV starts; I just am not. I keep learning, but it's not an intuitive skill to me. As my ER nurse friends say, it's all about the practice, and I do it only a few times a week, if that, not multiple times a day. Anyway, I sent A a text trashing myself, and he said, "Don't be so hard on yourself." I excel at being hard on myself, and it is wonderful to be reminded that it's okay to fail if you keep trying.

I could never had predicted any of this wondrousness two years, a year, six months ago. I have a hard time thinking that I deserve it. I do the best I can, but for some reason, I have had piles of shit visited on me. It's just what happens to me. Well, things seem to be changing.

I had to see my primary care MD this past week to follow up after the ER visit, and she said she'd had notes from my hematologist and hepatologist. Both wrote to her that they're shocked I am not in clinical depression anymore without medication, considering my health and chronic pain situation. She said that she isn't shocked: I am strong and know how to get on with my life.

I also know that a huge burden has been lifted from my shoulders. If I still felt that my very existence were a mistake, that I had no purpose, I might be having a more difficult time making it through each minute. I am aware that I will certainly fall into the pit again; it's the nature of depression. It's a disease. There is still a huge part of my life that is wrong, messy, confusing, and in stasis. I am ignoring it for now because I simply cannot deal with it. One step at a time. I want to enjoy being happy for a while.

There's a chance I will meet up with both my mother and brother this spring. I am thrilled. Can you even imagine?