Life in the IDPH-VR

The job of processing adoption records is an interesting position for me. The work itself is rather tedious—the only relief comes from listening to books on tape and the fact that I have a variety of responsibilities so I can change tasks to give my brain or my shoulders a rest. The work keeps me busy all day and I appreciate the lack of boredom. There is, however, a challenge that I did not expect. There are too many stories. Every dry form, every scribbled letter means so much for a person that I have never met and never will. I want to know why these people are adopted, why their parents finally married, why they decided to opt for a sex change. Why would a 42-year-old get adopted? What prompts a parent to name her daughter something like:Lizeria, Chuckia Azzure, Tesla, Novia, Infiniti Allegra, Cashmere Monai, Zyria or Precious Diamond? What could motivate bestowing Lil-Lloyd Gabriel Zach, Santy, Noe Benjamin or Travon Bomani on her son?
I realized on Friday that I had stopped reading the names. There was no other way to cope. When the pressure of the stories became too much, I had to start blocking them out. Life does not give me much time to explore the leads that pass through my hands as I “play with paper” all day. When I figure out how to use the fragments that float through my brain, then I can allow others in. Until then, I have to protect myself by not paying attention.