It takes time to make a family

Never Done: Applied for a replacement Social Security card

One of the things I really really really don't like about living in New York is dealing with New York bureaucracy. So it was with great trepidation that I went to the Social Security Bureau to apply for a replacement card. First thing I encountered was a metal detector, three security guards, and a woman going off. "Fuck you! I'm not taking off my fucking jacket? Why the fuck ... you mother fuckers! I have a right to wear my jacket into the building!" She tried to go through the detector without taking off her jacket, and one of the guys had to restrain her. Her limbs flailed like she was a three-year-old in a tantrum, and she tore at the buttons on her jacket, ripped it off, flung it on the conveyor belt, screamed a few more swears, and practically ran through the metal detector. When it didn't go off, she turned and swore some more, as if not setting off the metal detector was some proof that she should have been able to wear her jacket. Throughout this all, the three guards kept their cool, and I became incredibly subdued.

I found myself redefining myself in contrast to that woman. I became a very good girl (and I use the word girl purposefully here.) "Do you want me to take off my sweater?" "Yes sir." "Thank you." I wanted to make those guards' jobs easier. I also wanted to take the whole scene down a notch. When I finally made it through, and got on the elevator to go up to the social security office, I realized I had instantly reverted into my childhood modus operandi: I will make everything better by becoming good. By becoming a blank slate. No feelings. No needs.

Except that of course I did have feelings and needs -- both growing up, and also in the line to get into the social security building. But the woman had so completely redefined me that I didn't notice that until many hours later, after I had already smiled obsequiously at the guard handing out the tickets I needed to get in line, and waited for 15 minutes waiting for an agent to take my paperwork, eating my sandwich while silently worrying that it might be against the rules to eat my sandwich, or that it might be bothering someone that I was eating my sandwich. Bothering someone? The guy behind me was playing a video game with the speakers full on, and I was afraid someone might not like the smell of cucumbers and oat bread? The woman who took my paperwork laughed with her co-worker the whole time she did my paperwork, while only saying the bare minimum to me in the ten minutes we spent together: "Receipt, form, and ID." "Two weeks in the mail." I smiled, thanked her, and told her I hoped she had a good long weekend. I was so grateful that she was not a bureaucratic jerk to me that I didn't notice until later that she was basically a bureaucratic jerk to me.

Where do I go? How do I become so concerned with making everything run smoothly that I erase myself? It's not like I was in the Social Security office to get my emotional needs met, but really? I was so eclipsed that I was afraid my sandwich would be a bother? It seems poetic that this happened in the office of the institution that literally reduces us to a nine-digit number, but the truth is, this can happen to me anywhere. And the other truth is, if I haven't kicked it by now, it's gonna take something pretty huge to help me kick it. And guess why I was in line for a replacement card? For my adoption application. Wah wah wah. (That was a "something pretty huge" sound effect.)

Nobody kicks your shit like a kid kicks your shit. And from what I hear, no kid kicks it like a teenager kicks it. And from what I hear, no teen kicks it like an adopted teen kicks it. If this all works out and I do get to adopt an older child, one of my jobs is going to be to teach them how to take up space in the world. One of their jobs is going to be to find my weak spots and push push push. One of my jobs is going to be to hold my ground and provide boundaries for them. One of their jobs is going to be to find my weak spots and push push push. One of my jobs is going to be to balance my needs against the needs of the whole family. One of their jobs is going to be to find my weak spots and push push push.

On the way to get my replacement Social Security card, I spoke on the phone with the woman who leads my adoption prep classes. I told her where I was going, and that I was about to fill in all the paperwork. She reminded me not to rush -- that it takes time to build a family. When she said it, I thought that made sense, but in a sort of theoretical way. But the fact is, every step I take in the process teaches me something that I am going to need to know in order to be a good parent. I never thought I'd say this, but thank you, New York bureaucracy, for teaching me to be a better parent.