I am an explorer. As an adoptee, I have explored the depths of my soul to find a meaning to the earliest parts of my history. I have ventured out, and within, to seek unknown parts of myself. I have tracked many a mile to uncover my identity and to dismantle the titles given to me by others. Titles that did not serve me in a positive life outcome.
I believe that all adoptees are explorers. In some way, we are all searching, seeking, and looking for answers to who we are and why we’re here. We’re trackers of truth. At some moment in our lives, a severing took place that catapulted us into a situation we had no control over. Free falling — or so it seemed — we landed into lives that we were not born of, but were destined for.
Earlier worlds unravel and somewhere in our distant minds, our first families are kept as a memory. Reunion, or the thought of reunification, gets stored in a mental file called fantasy. A place where we probe the “what if” of someday reconnecting with birth family.
Sometimes, fantasy becomes reality and we find ourselves face-to-face with that unraveled world. A world that — on some level — unnerves us and, at the same time, delights our senses. Might someone, connected to us by DNA, offer us the gift of coloring in all those pieces of ourselves left blank? Could members of our birth family fill in the holes within us left hollow by abandonment? Secretly, we hope so. And, quietly, we pray.
I did. I prayed, and I hoped. For years, I wanted someone to help me understand the mystery of my story — a mystery that held me distant from myself. Therefore, I put much stock into the idea of a reunion as a vehicle to aide me in arriving at my truth.
And, so I wrote a letter while in my teens. It was addressed to my birthmother in England. I did not have her physical address — only her name. I sent the letter to the main office of the Royal Air Force, where I knew that my mum’s husband once served. The letter began something like this:
If you have opened this envelope, I want to say thank you. If you are reading my words, I want you to promise not to throw this letter away. You see, I need an angel right now…
I went on to briefly explain my situation and the story of my earliest life. I wrote how desperately I needed to find my birthmother in order to reunite and, as was my prayer, to heal what had been broken inside.
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