Far From Home

That's me.  I feel misplaced.  Wrong place, right time. The familiar is on the other side of the planet, but how could that be? I am disheveled, untethered, free-floating and it's unraveled my core.  I am because I exist, but the identity I have been given is false.  I know this.

I'm so tired of the infomercials which interrupt my occasional television viewing.  "Just click on the leaf and blah, blah, blah".

So where do the rest of us "click"? I am thinking.  Same feeling washes over me seeing those programs which document the lives of persons searching for biological relations; birth parents, birth children and such. It's a constant message: One is defined by family.  Really?

I was filling the need of someone else. That last statement is my truth as explained by my intuitive guide.  My soul in suspended animation until it was called to complete the lives of others.  How did it turn out?  Sill determining the results even tho my "parents" are long dead.

Where do I go from here, now that I am no longer part of the original scheme?

I think England.

For years upon decades, people have commented that I am too formal.  My grammar is a dead giveaway that I ain't from around here (here being America's Gulf Coast).  Even when I lived in the midwest, I would elicit uninvited criticisms on my choices of words.

There's no available research as to genetic predisposition and I can testify that my adoptive parents did not encourage this formality within the child they were raising.

The journey will commence in seven weeks.  I am going with my kid. She's formal, too.  She has a great interest in all things Celtic. This passion has not been purposely nurtured; it just exists. She is going- to discover.  I am going to-reunite; with what or whom is yet to be uncovered.

Now that my life is so unfocused and seemingly fraying at the seams, the timing is paramount.  Maybe new vitality will surface to give my life purpose.  It's rather tiring to just exist in a shell of comfort and predictability.

Knowing that my identity may collide with the unfamiliar is rather invigorating. The planning is in process and I am getting that uncomfortable feeling, in my gut, that my efforts will not be in vain and that all the planning and detail work will be met with enlightenment.  I'm too old to get butterflies in my stomach but they're there!

I wonder if I am coexisting with another self; string theory on a very personal level. How do I separate the reality from perception? How do I shed the labels and falsehoods of living a borrowed life without the risk of losing the memories which sustain me? Who do I think I am?  I think I am someone else.

I could subject my pride to a saliva test and be glad that I already knew my genetic makeup. I know from whence my people originated.  I just have no way of finding out who my people were.  Go back far enough and I know I was one in a troupe of apes at the beginning of a long evolutionary process.

Don't need to travel that segment of my timeline.  I just want to know how I got to be who others assume me to be.  Why is my true identity undiscoverable?  Court records are sealed, borrowed relations are dead and the story stops.

And then maybe it doesn't.  The real me could be just on the wrong side of the pond.