What I Did Not Know

On New Year's Day of 2016 I revealed to my mother that I was going to officially search for my biological relatives. It was time to stop wondering and get to work. Upon my asking, she revealed to me...
that I had a sister. WHAT?! I'd never been told that I had sister. My mother said that my birth mother told the social worker that she had a daughter that was eleven at the time that I was born. According to my mom, my sister had disabilities. I was floored. I tried to hold my composure. My emotions ran wild. What the hell??? I was thrilled to learn that I had a sister. I always wanted a sister. It was a longing in my heart. It was a connection that I felt that I'd somehow missed out on. Then I became incredibly sad. What  type of disabilities did my sister have? My mind began to race at how I'd missed a lifetime of helping to care for her. And then... then there was anger. It was stirred in with the rest of my emotions like a sticky goo. I was pissed. Why had this information been kept from me for all of these years? Why did I have to ask in order to be told such important information? I was steaming.  I thought I'd explode. I felt like a damned pressure cooker. Yet, this all remained under wraps. I took in this information as it was vital to my next step...

“Usually when we hear or read something new, we just compare it to our own ideas. If it is the same, we accept it and say that it is correct. If it is not, we say it is incorrect. In either case, we learn nothing.” 
-Thich Nhat Hanh

January 1, 2016

 *The views and opinions expressed in this blog are my own. The detailed events are given from my point of view. However, there are other people involved in my story. Unless they expressly told me their feelings, I will not try to speculate about those feelings here. If you are given to what you read here, then it will take you on quite a journey. Hold on, be open, and please seek to understand. Thank you for joining me*

 The New Year seems to bring excitement and hope by the bag fulls. We gaze forward with dreams to do better in our lives. We make plans, goals, and resolutions. Our spirits grow warm with anticipation for greater days than those that have passed. The year 2016 will forever be legendary in my life. I rang in the New Year with a new boldness in my heart. My mind was set and I was moving forward. I was ready to search for my biological relatives. My husband and I discussed me moving forward in this venture, and he so lovingly gave me his support. My husband is a running theme of silent strength. He is a constant thread of love woven into my spirited highs, and deep and dark lows. I savored every ounce of that in the year to come.
  I did my regular New Year's phone calls. I spoke with my mother that day, and the conversation was quite open. Honestly, it was deep and open. From my point of view, it was as candid as we'd ever been with each other. I saw an open window. I shared with her that I wanted to search for my biological relatives. We very rarely spoke of my adoption. That subject was pretty much off limits. I experienced such shame with the concept of adoption that I didn't speak about it with anyone else either. Because I didn't really speak about it, I never adequately addressed the kettle of emotions boiling deep beneath my surface. I stifled the rumble to the point of believing that there wasn't much emotion there at all. I now realize that I was afraid to openly own my curiosity and longings for knowing where I came from. Because we'd not spoken about my adoption since I was a child, I tread lightly. I was not on a quest to replace my parents. That couldn't be done. I didn't want that. But, I was thirsty for my truth. Of course, I could search without uttering a word. But as my parents, I believed that they deserved the respect of knowing. And, in some way, I wanted the honor of their blessing. I wanted my search to be done openly before them. No more secrets. It was time to shine the light into some dark corners. My nerves stood on edge a bit, and I forged ahead. I asked my mother if she knew anything about my birth mother and biological father. What she said next threw me for a loop...

Head for the Mountains

It's been a full year since I began my search for my biological relatives. Oh my. I am so full of gratitude and sheer joy. It has been a year tatted with tears, shouldered with angst, elevated in hope, brushed with doubts, and driven with raw determination. As my heart and mind span over 2016, I am in awe of all that has taken it's place. The timing was just right. Everything was primed and ready. It was the most trying and rewarding time of my life all at once. Some days I wasn't sure if I'd continue. At times I was just sure that I would break. This journey took me on a path straight to my core. It was just as much about discovering who was inside as much as it was about discovering who was out there. I was on a quest for the truth. It took me to the past and propelled me forward all at once. I felt my heart break and I felt my heart open. My soul would bow low in exhaustion, and then my spirit would soar high in triumph. Each step causing a soul shaking transformation that caused things that weren't truly me to fall away. God and I on an archaeological dig, brushing, scraping, and digging away at the things that had covered up my brilliance. Will you head to the mountains with me? Let me show you what was dug up. Will you journey with me? Come. There's much to see...

Photo:Archeology TIME

Birthday Gratitude

As I am blessed to see another birthday, I find myself in deep introspection. Mostly I pause in gratitude, savoring every morsel of the delicious blessings that I am aware of.  I am approaching one year since I began my search. As that anniversary nears, I marvel at the journey that I have taken with God and myself.  I am grateful.

Let The Truth Unfurl

The Truth has always been.
It was a beauty to be discovered, a treasure to be obtained, and a breath to be taken in and exhaled out.
Truth has always been.
Truth was my ambition, it was my goal, and my mission
Truth has always been.
It was the fire under my feet, the wind beneath my wings, and the gentle push in my back
Truth has always been.
Truth is the heavy ache in my belly that there is something more; it the gnawing thought in my mind that something is missing; it the urge in my soul that I cannot be free without it
Truth still is.
It is the meaning of my search, the light on my path, the compass to my journey
Truth still is.
Truth is the catalyst to my healing, for I can not heal from secrets, lies, and ignorance.
Truth still is.
Truth is the painful yet healing cut of a sterile scalpel
Truth will always be.
Truth will be the light at the end of the day and the brightness that dispels the darkness
Truth will be the essence, the base, and the reason
Truth will always be.
It will be that open door, those trusted keys, and that gaping window
Truth will always be.
Truth will be that treasure to be sought and cherished; unfurling in the lives of all who will hear and take heed.
Truth will forever be.

The Power of 3: Past, Present, Future

 I've heard it said that things happen in threes. They are usually similar events occurring in close succession. There were three catalysts that inspired... no propelled me into searching for my biological parents. I'd participated in my first (and possibly last) mud run. During the run and all of it's obstacles, I injured my tailbone. Nine months after the race, it had not healed. I went to an orthopedist to discover that I'd possibly fractured it. I also found out that as a young woman in my early thirties, I had severe arthritis. My legs were incredibly weak. I have a fitness career, so I was in great shape. However my joints were degenerating. I knew at that point that my condition was hereditary. I had no answers. On a sidenote that's totally related: It was the first time that I'd been to a doctor's office that had a space for adoptees to check for the lack of a medical history. I took a picture of it and sent it to my husband.
 The second and closely occurring push came when a dear friend's estranged father died. What was so heartbreaking is that she had not seen him since she was five, and he died without them ever reconnecting. All that I could see was loss.There were things that they'd never get to say to one another. There were lost experiences, time, and opportunities to ask questions. The truth is that those things had been lost while he was alive. He wasn't there when she was in the first grade. Her father missed her plays. He didn't teach her how to drive. Only one parent sat proudly at her high school graduation. He'd missed her life while he was alive. It was a painful reality. I didn't want to miss any opportunities in grasping the chance to know who and where I came from. It wasn't about making up for lost time. I just began to feel time slipping away. My friend's experience helped me to realize and to live in the NOW.
 Thirdly, and dearly, my two oldest children knew that I was adopted as an infant. They were intrigued. They began to press me for answers about our heritage. My children had a deep yearning to know the truth. Their truth. I could no longer stand as their only history. We all wanted to be linked. Branches on a tree. This was our past and my children are the future. It was time to search...