By Brad EwellTwo days after I learned I’d been adopted, we met to talk about the secret you’d kept from me. Looking back, I was completely unprepared for that conversation. I was still in shock from learning you weren’t my biological parents and that you lied by omission about this my entire life. What follows is what I wish I’d have known to express then in that first conversation. I didn’t know then that would be our only conversation about this. Had I been able to say these things then, I think it would have made it easier on all of us.

I don’t regret being adopted. I’ve had a great life; in reality I’ve been spoiled. You did a good job raising me to be the man I am today. You made me feel loved and supported. You taught me the importance of hard work and perseverance. You showed me the simple pleasure gained from working with my hands. You also guided me toward an honest life where I stand up for what I believe in without worrying much about the personal costs. When I look at my life now, I don’t see how I would have ended up where I am today if you hadn’t adopted me. I’ve got a great wife, wonderful kids, and a life I love.

But none of this changes my need to know who I am and where I come from. Searching for and reuniting with my biological family hasn’t been something I did as a rejection of you or as a result of some failure in your parenting. No matter how much you ignore my need to know, it will never disappear from inside of me. I simply have to understand who I am, and because of adoption, there’s more to that story than who raised me.

As I trace my roots, I begin to understand why I am the way I am. I still see your hand in molding me, but I also see the biological foundation of my attitudes and behaviors. I also know where some of my struggles came from. You tried to shape me to be more outgoing; maintain outward appearances; and adopt a go-along-to-get along mindset at home, but biologically it wasn’t who I was, so we clashed over these expectations.

Discovering my lineage and meeting my biological relatives makes me feel more like a whole person than I ever have. I’ve seen myself reflected back to me in others—my rebelliousness and personal style; my difficulty in going with the flow; my mischievous sense of humor; and my deep introversion. Since I’ve met my biological father and heard stories about my biological mother, these traits all make sense to me now. Before, it just felt like I was doing something wrong.

While I’m not sorry I was adopted, I deeply regret that you kept my adoption secret from me for 48 years. Looking back with 20/20 hindsight, I can see the places where I was trying to force myself into a mold that was never meant for me. While for the most part I’ve made peace with the time and energy I invested trying to be someone I’m not, I likely will always have nagging questions about what might have been had I stayed truer to who I biologically was. It’s still hard to look back on the internal struggles I had—feeling like I’d failed in some way for not fitting into the family mold. It makes me sad to think about the fuller relationship I believe we could have had if I’d known the truth.

In the end, what I hope you understand is that my need to know where I come from has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. It’s not a result of some failing on your part. No amount of extra love or attention would have made my need to know who I am go away. From talking to others in similar situations I’ve learned that the need to understand our heritage is an inescapable desire many of us feel. How ironic that you told me several times “blood is thicker than water,” yet here we are with you now wanting to ignore that. You’re still my parents; you’re the only parents I’ve ever known; but I still need a connection to my roots to feel intact .

I hope this will all make sense to you. Please understand there’s nothing about my search that threatens our relationship, and in the end all I hope to do is become a better person through the things I learn.

Your Son,

Brad

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By Lisa CollinsWhen you were but two years old, I came into being.

We were unaware of one another’s presence, but we co-existed.

Separated by a thousand miles, yet side by side on this planet, we grew.

We were born alone, no siblings with whom to form that unique bond.

We were given a name and assigned a family.

But somewhere out there, just beyond reach, the other was there.

I don’t know why we were allowed to live for more than 50 years without one another, and why we weren’t permitted the connection so many take for granted.

Were we somehow assigned the payment for sins of the fathers?

Why were we destined to miss out on the comfort, the familiarity, of another human connected by blood, intertwined for life?

We will never know. We will always wonder.

We will never get that time back.

But from this point forward, we now know.

There is another person, no longer unreachable and distant.

A person with whom we share blood, and genetics, and values.

Silly little things, like a preference for rice.

Difficulty swallowing.

And a dark, easy tan.

And big, important things,

like stubbornness and independence.

Fierce loyalty.

Refusal to follow illogical rules.

And a smartass sense of humor.

We will never again be without.

No one can ever take this away.

We have less time left to be siblings than we had to be without.

So I choose to acknowledge, honor, and place immense value on this fact:

For the rest of my time on this planet, I will be

Finally, and forever,

Your sister.

BEFORE YOU GO…

Look on our home page for more essays as well as articles about NPEs, adoptees, and genetic genealogy.

• Please leave a comment below and share your thoughts.
• Let us know what you want to see in Severance. Send a message to bkjax@icloud.com.
• Tell us your stories. See guidelines. 
• If you’re an NPE, adoptee, or donor conceived person; a sibling of someone in one of these groups; or a helping professional (for example, a therapist or genetic genealogist) you’re welcome to join our private Facebook group.
• Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @Severancemag.

For many of us, DNA test results have delivered news that’s made nothing in our world seem normal. Our families may not be our families. The truths we’ve known may not be truths at all. We’ve been upside-down, turned around, and left looking for some kind of foothold—a way to ground ourselves in this new unreality. Then came a virus and a quarantine that have made everyone’s lives anything but normal. On top of that, an unprecedented political climate along with civil unrest have been both globally and personally destabilizing. If that weren’t enough, bring on the holidays, which for some in the best of times are difficult, stressful, and grief-inducing. But this year, even those who typically find the season joyful may experience sadness, disappointment, and grief.

If you experience anxiety, it’s likely been magnified in (or by) 2020. If you’ve experienced trauma, the fear and isolation caused by the pandemic may be retraumatizing. If you’ve been alone in quarantine or can’t spend the holidays with the people you love, your loneliness may seem overwhelming. Even if you’ve been holding your own, the common sorrow—the empathy and compassion fatigue for all who are struggling—may be depleting you. This state of life as we know it now may be getting on your last nerve.

If, as so many of us have, you’ve attempted to cope by overeating, drinking, catastrophizing, or hiding under the covers, you’re not alone. As we near the end of this off-the-charts bad year, we may all need self-care, but are too weary to make the effort. Among our resolutions may be to do better, perhaps even to seek the therapy many of us need to help us find our sure footing in our personal strange new world and in the strange new world everyone now inhabits. But there’s one little thing we can do to help ground ourselves in minutes—and it involves something many of us have been missing—a hug.

One mindful technique that can help keep you rooted in the moment and prevent you from focusing on worries is the butterfly hug. It’s a technique often taught by therapists who practice EMDR so that their clients can self-soothe outside of sessions. EMDR (which will be the topic of an upcoming article) stands for eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. Developed serendipitously by Francine Shapiro, PhD, it’s one of a number of evidence-based therapeutic modalities used to treat trauma and other painful experiences. It’s based on the principle of bilateral stimulation. While clients discuss an aspect of their painful experiences, they watch a rapid repetitive movement back and forth—possibly lights or the therapist’s finger moving across their fields of vision. It’s an approach that’s been proven to positively alter thinking and feelings relative to experiences—processing the trauma, defusing memories, and allowing people to be more present and less attached to the past. It produces a change in the neural networks that in turn produces a cognitive change.

The butterfly hug is a way to self-administer bilateral stimulation to reduce arousal. It was created in 1998 by Lucina Artigas, MA, MT, while working in Mexico with survivors of Hurricane Pauline. Simple to perform, you can do it any time you feel stressed, notice distracting negative thoughts, or are preoccupied with worries about the future. Make yourself comfortable sitting or reclining. Close your eyes if you wish. Lay your left hand across the right side of your chest and your right hand across the left. Link your thumbs so that your hands look like butterfly wings. Position your hands so your fingertips point upward toward the neck and rest them near your collarbone or your upper chest. Inhale deeply and exhale. Then—while thinking about what’s troubling you—tap your fingers on your chest in an alternating fashion, first your left hand tapping on your right side, then your right hand tapping on your left side, your hands moving like butterfly wings at whatever pace and pressure you like. Notice what your senses perceive: sounds, smells, images, feelings. Be aware of your thoughts without judgment and without trying to influence them. Repeat until you notice a sensation of greater calm and a reduction in negative thoughts. Inhale deeply and exhale. That’s it. It doesn’t take long to soothe yourself. In her protocol, Artigas advises doing the hug for no more than six to eight times to avoid overstimulation, but some practitioners suggest that it can be done for several minutes and can be repeated until you sense an increased feeling of calm. The technique will not eradicate anxiety, but it will bring it down a notch or two, which sometimes is just enough to make the days more manageable.

Click here for a video describing the method.

Keep in mind, the butterfly hug is a method of self-soothing but doesn’t take the place of therapy for extreme anxiety or PTSD. If you’re experiencing severe symptoms or if the hug increases your anxiety, talk with a mental health professional.  

By Brad EwellThere are many NPE/MPE (not parent expected/misattributed parent experience) stories with one if not multiple layers of abandonment. It seems as if for many in this community it’s a fairly common part of the experience. I don’t believe my story is different from many others, but I only recently realized how much it’s still affecting me.

A week ago, my wife and I were sitting in the living room talking about a problem I was having with my adoptive mom. My adoptive dad had passed away about six months ago, and my mom has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She’s still in the early stages, but she calls multiple times daily wanting me to come over and help with various things or just keep her company. When I tell her I can’t, I often hear her sad voice saying, “I just wish you could help me.” As I was telling my wife about the latest call, I said, “All I really want to say is, ‘do you mean how you helped me after I found out that y’all adopted me?’”

My wife looked up at me and asked, “Do you know how bitter that sounded?”

“Yes, because I’m still bitter about it.” But it really wasn’t until that moment that I realized how it’s been eating at me for the last few months.

About a year and a half ago, after having taken an Ancestry DNA test, I learned from a biological family member that I’d been adopted at birth. I reached for confirmation to my mom and dad, who only then I realized were my adoptive parents. When we met to  talk though my discovery, they offered the standard responses most of us have gotten at one time or another: “Nothing has changed; we’re still your parents; what mattered is how much we loved you; we didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to be hurt”—all of the things NPEs/MPE’s love to hear. I told them as far as I was concerned they still were my parents because they were the only parents I’d ever known, but that literally everything had changed. We talked for a while longer but never moved past the “nothing has changed” point.

After this conversation, things took an unexpected turn. I left believing our talk had opened the door to the truth and that now we could talk about it openly. Looking back, I see this was naive on my part; my parents had been secret keepers most of their lives and they managed to keep a pretty big one for 48 years. My parents decided after I left that they’d had enough of that unpleasant conversation and we would not be talking about it again; the only catch was once again they’d forgotten to tell me.

A few weeks later I began communicating with some of my biological family through text and Facebook Messenger. I typically talked to my parents about once a week, and whenever adoption came up they changed the subject. I did my best to not bring the topic up, but discovering I’d been adopted had been a life-altering experience, and keeping these contacts secret from them made me feel as if I were being unfaithful or disrespectful to them. I wasn’t trying to replace them, but I was feeling the strong, inalienable pull of biology; I wanted to know where I came from. So in order to keep the peace while I continued on my journey, I continued avoid the topic when talking with my parents.

A month later I made arrangements to meet a half-brother I’d discovered. As I was on the way to see him, my dad called me and asked what I was up to. I told him I was driving to meet a friend for dinner. When he wanted to know what friend, I told him it was someone he didn’t know. When he asked again, I mistakenly thought he’d changed his mind and wanted to know things. So I told him the truth. There was a pause, and I waited for any questions he might have now that we were going to talk about things. But all he said was, “Man it sure was hot today.” That really stung. But I agreed it was hot and told my dad I was almost at my destination and had better get off the phone. I still had a ways to go, but I just wanted to end the conversation.

That was first time I felt abandoned in my adoption journey. It wasn’t when I’d learned that someone had given me up as a baby and wondered what led to that choice. I’d learned the complicated story of my conception, and at 48 years old I could see the logic of and necessity for the decision. Instead, I felt abandoned by my adoptive parents when they refused to have anything to do with helping me navigate the mess they’d created. I know many NPEs and MPEs have had their parents reject them or their biological parents refuse to acknowledge them when there was infidelity in the story, but I didn’t anticipate that type of abandonment in my case. My parents just adopted a baby. One of my closest friends growing up—our whole families were friends—was adopted, and his parents felt no reason to hide it. To this day I just don’t get why my parents did.

My wife was wonderful and continues to be my rock through this journey, while my parents—who did a great job raising me—completely bailed on me when I needed them most. The hardest part about this was that it left a dirty feeling every time I met a biological relative. Since my parents and I weren’t going to talk about it, each time it felt like I was sneaking around and betraying them. Then, when we would get together, it was the elephant in the room. For months, I carried the guilt along with all the other new feelings.

Fortunately, this story has a somewhat happy ending. About a week before my dad passed, he’d been in the hospital. My mom and I would alternate nights staying with him. Once he woke up in the middle of the night and told me he thought he was dying. I asked if he meant soon or now, and he said now. I asked what he wanted to do, and he said “let’s talk.” After we talked for a few minutes he asked, “So what ever happened with the whole adoption thing?” I was completely caught off guard and told him I thought he didn’t like talking about it so I did my best not to bring it up. But now he wanted to know everything. For the next hour, I told him stories of the meetings, showed him pictures, and answered his questions. He seemed genuinely pleased and at peace with the information. At one point, after I talked about meeting my biological dad, he said, “Well you finally got to meet your dad … that’s good.” Hearing that broke my heart a little, and I told him I would always consider him my dad. After a while, he became tired and dozed off.  After that, we never talked about it again, but I finally had what felt like his blessing to continue on my journey and I was relieved of the huge burden I’d been carrying for months.

BEFORE YOU GO…

Look on our home page for more articles about NPEs, adoptees, and genetic genealogy.

• Please leave a comment below and share your thoughts.
• Let us know what you want to see in Severance. Send a message to bkjax@icloud.com.
• Tell us your stories. See guidelines. 
• If you’re an NPE, adoptee, or donor conceived person; a sibling of someone in one of these groups; or a helping professional (for example, a therapist or genetic genealogist) you’re welcome to join our private Facebook group.
• Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @Severancemag.