Whew, this week really put me through the wringer. I got home last night completely drained. I’ve been David L. Eng’s Feeling of Kinship this week for class, where he uses psychoanalysis and the Freudian Oedipal complex to commentate on First Person Plural and psychological case studies on Korean adoptees in therapy. Oh, now I remember what it feels like to be an object without agency. Honestly, the case study was difficult for me to read. That was me four years ago. But in worse shape. If I wasn’t sawing on my wrists, I was locked up in the psych ward tranqued out on Xanax or strapped to a stretcher for electroshock therapy. Not a point in my life I particularly care to revisit.
I really feel like this month’s year-marker since I’ve been “home” to Korea has taken its toll. I miss being with Omma an Gayoung and family, but I also miss being with other adoptees. I miss the unspoken understanding that we all have our issues, but we’re still okay. We can be damaged goods without having to pull out Freudian psychobabble. I miss my third space.