Some mornings, I don’t like the noise. So I let the hum of my Nespresso machine make conversation for me instead. No music, no podcast, no notifications — just that little machine doing its thing while I figure out how today’s going to go.
And today needs a slow start. Slight headache, my nose acting up, day two of my period — the trifecta nobody asks for.
But even with all that, I wake up grateful. That’s not me being performative about gratitude. Some mornings you genuinely have to choose it on purpose, headache and all.
I put on a Hong Kong vlog in the background while the coffee brews and the oatmeal prep gets going. Closed captions only, no sound — that’s my move when I’m feeling overstimulated. Do you watch your YouTube videos on silent as well?
I like to watch someone’s story being told as I get my day going. I want a beginning, middle, and end with my oatmeal.
Anyway, back to my slow morning. I called my dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day.
He sounded good. healthy. The conversation lasted exactly as long as it needed to — no forcing it, no performing closeness that isn’t there, no overstaying. Just enough. I hope he enjoys his day.
I’ve been getting better about calling my birth parents on days like this— building some real rhythm of communication throughout the month. Little check-ins. Nothing dramatic.
If you’re a kinship adoptee reading this, you already know what I mean when I say it’s not simple. There’s no script for how often is “enough,” no rulebook for what a healthy relationship with a birth parent is supposed to look like when so much of your story started somewhere other than where you ended up.
I stopped looking for the rulebook a long time ago. I just decided on what I can actually do, consistently, without it costing me my peace — and I do that. That’s it. That’s the whole strategy some days, and I’m letting it be enough instead of measuring it against some imaginary “right” amount.
I want to stay in contact in a way that fits my actual capacity.
By the time my coffee finishes, the breeze is coming through my window just right, and I tell myself I’m going to move through today with ease.
I need more ease. I think a lot of us do.
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Coffee, for the record: vanilla syrup, medium roast, and a dash of oatmilk brown sugar creamer. Holds me over until my latte later — priorities.
I enjoy sharing my morning with you. Hopefully you feel a little of that ease too.
If any part of this hits close to home — the birth parent rhythm, the overstimulation, the choosing peace over a perfect script — drop a comment and tell me where you’re at with it.
And if you know another adoptee who needs to hear they’re allowed to define “enough” for themselves, send this her way.
From my coffee corner with love,
Teisha
Adopted Black Girl 