By Kara Rubinstein Deyerin

Without having your whole story, you cannot have autonomy. Autonomy and decision-making go hand-in-hand. Autonomy, the ability to act independently and make choices based on one’s own judgment, relies on having a comprehensive understanding of the context and factors at play. If you do not know your true origin story, your ability to exercise true autonomy becomes limited or compromised. A fragmented or partial view of who you are may lead to misinterpretations, ill-informed decisions, and potential consequences that could have been avoided if you’d had the truth.

Barbie is a perfect example of how lack of information about the fundamental building blocks of your life and who you are can lead to an identity crisis when you discover the truth. Note to the reader: if you haven’t seen the movie, know that there are spoilers here. I highly recommend you see the movie and then read this article. Even if you don’t come back to read this, go see the movie.

Barbie lives in a world based on a fundamental lie—the belief that the Barbies have solved women’s equality problems in the real world. Because Barbie is a female president, doctor, physicist, and more, she believes women in the real world have this level of power too. How Barbie sees her world and herself and how she interacts with her friends and Ken is based on this being true. When she learns the real world is very different, it throws her relationships and her sense of identity into disarray.

People often have a difficult time understanding what the big deal is when someone has a DNA surprise and they discover that one or both of their parents aren’t genetically related to them. “What’s the big deal? You’re still you?” they’re often asked. The Barbie movie is a perfect example of “what’s the big deal.” Once Barbie’s fundamental truth about who she is toppled, she has an existential crisis. She’s forced to confront the fundamental purpose, meaning, and essence of her life and her own existence.

Perhaps through Barbie you can understand the aftershocks caused by a DNA surprise: how one sees oneself and their place in the world is no longer the same. Five years ago, after spitting in a tube, I learned I wasn’t genetically related to the man I thought was my father. I’d wanted to learn where in Africa his family came from. What I discovered was I had zero African DNA and was half Jewish instead. Everything about my life and who I was had been based on a lie. Enter an existential crisis that at times I still revisit.

When you have a DNA surprise, you are untethered from your past and sense of self. Your ethnicity might be significantly different, like mine. You can feel like an imposter in the culture and family you grew up in and also in your new culture and family. Your medical history is different, so how you’ve been caring for yourself may not be appropriate for your health anymore. This can be an awkward conversation with your doctor, and your kid’s doctor.

Your familial relationships are not the same. You have new family who may or may not want to meet you. And some of the family you grew up with may decide that because you aren’t blood you’re no longer family. How you see and interpret your past interactions with your family and the world is no longer true. You find yourself editing your memories in light of this new information. Even how you see yourself in the mirror is different.

At one point, after Barbie learns the truth, she wonders if she’s still pretty. Her looks haven’t changed but the lens through which she sees herself has. I recently told a good friend that even after five years, I am still surprised by who I see in the mirror. After explaining it wasn’t because 50 is approaching but because I grew up seeing myself as multiethnic—my lens was a woman with a European mom and an African dad. Those glasses were shattered by my DNA test. My new lens now sees a Jewish woman. My nose, my eyes, my smile—they’re all very different. Even now, after therapy and years of rebuilding my sense of identity, it can be disorienting.

With Barbie’s new information about her world and who she is, she must rebuild her sense of self and how she wants to be viewed in the world. She has an identity crisis. Ironically, this term was coined by psychologist Erik Erikson when he discovered in early adulthood that the man he thought was his father was, in fact, not his genetic father. This revelation had a profound impact on his sense of identity and led him to question his true origins, cultural background, and place in the world and of course to study the topic. Enter “identity crisis” into the lexicon.

Barbie is given a choice—whether or not to go back to how things were before, even a better improved version without the lies. She decides she cannot return to her old life. After the veil is lifted, most people can’t or don’t want to pull it back down. In fact, according to a survey of 605 individuals from Facebook misattributed parentage support groups, published in the Journal of Family History, 92% of those who’ve had a DNA surprise would not prefer to have never known the truth. As you’d expect, shock is the first word people use to describe learning their foundation isn’t what they thought, but the next strongest feeling is a better understanding of who they are.

I know Barbie felt this way too as she chose to move to the real world. Her first act of real autonomy—visiting her gynecologist. We must have access to the truth about our origins from birth. People have the right to their full story to develop a sense of self and their place in the world based on true information. You cannot have really autonomy if your life is based on lie.

The next time someone tells me they don’t understand why my DNA surprise rocked my world, I’m going to tell them to watch Barbie. If they can understand why it was impossible for Barbie to go back to who she was before, maybe they can understand why I can’t either.

Kara Rubinstein Deyerin is a non-practicing attorney and passionate advocate with almost a decade of dedicated nonprofit work. Her personal journey and professional expertise have positioned her as a prominent voice in the realm of DNA surprises, genetic identity and continuity, misattributed parentage, adoption, assisted reproduction, and non-paternal events (NPE). In 2018, her life took an unexpected turn when an over-the-counter DNA test revealed that she had zero African DNA and was half Jewish, which meant the man on her birth certificate could not be her genetic parent. This life-altering discovery sent Deyerin on an emotional rollercoaster, causing a profound loss of her assumed ethnic identity and leading her to question her roots and sense of self. Because there were few resources for people with misattributed parentage and a lack of legal rights, she co-founded Right to Know. She’s appeared on many podcasts, in multiple television interviews and articles, and is a frequent speaker and writer on her DNA surprise, the right to know, and the complex intersection of genetic information, identity, and family dynamics. Her dedication to empowering others and fostering societal understanding of these issues has made her a leading advocate for genetic identity rights and a powerful force in promoting truth and transparency in family building.

After wrapping season one of her popular podcast, and just in time for the release of the first episode of season two, Alexis Hourselt talks about her own NPE journey.Please tell us a little about yourself — what was your life like before your DNA surprise?

I grew up a military brat, mostly in Arizona. I lived in Tucson with my husband and two children and still do. I love the desert. Before my DNA surprise I would say I was part of a close-knit family—my parents live a few minutes away and my sisters are here too. My dad is Mexican and my mom is of European descent, so I grew up ambiguously biracial. My days were filled as a working mom, wife, friend, sister, and daughter.

Can you summarize as much of your personal story of how your DNA surprise came about?

I bought an AncestryDNA test in June 2021 as part of a Prime Day deal. I had zero suspicions about my dad—I was always told my parents were married after I was born. I look like my sisters. About a month later I got my results. I was first struck by my ethnicity breakdown—I was not Mexican at all, but African American. There was zero latinx in my results. Then I clicked on my matches and to my utter shock/horror I matched with a man I’d never seen before, my biological father.

When you tested, you had a parent child match. What was that experience like and what resulted?

It was really confusing because my bio dad didn’t have his name in his account – it was a username, so I had no idea who he really was (not that I knew him, anyway). I was way too afraid to contact him, so I called my mom and asked if she knew. She didn’t based on the username. I spent the next few days putting all of my internet sleuthing skills to work until I was able to identify him. I found him on Facebook and lurked everything I could find. I found an old podcast he appeared on just to listen to his voice. It was all very surreal. A few days into my journey my newfound sister contacted me and that really got the ball rolling in terms of building a relationship with my family.

You said at one point your mother apologized. That’s often not the case. How did this affect your relationship?

My situation, like so many of ours, is very nuanced. Both of my parents knew the truth about my paternity—or so they thought. They believed they were protecting me from someone, but that person is not my biological father. So, while I disagree with their choice to keep a secret from me, I do understand the initial decision. That empathy made it easier for my mother to apologize and for me to be open to receiving it. I do appreciate the apology but I am still processing everything. It’s not an overnight process but I hope our relationship can normalize.

You said growing up you didn’t relate to your Mexican heritage. Were you raised in that culture and still didn’t feel connected to it?

Yes and no. My parents didn’t deeply immerse me in Mexican culture, but I live in the southwest so it’s everywhere. Whenever we visited family in Texas I saw much of that Mexican side as well. I went to schools in predominantly Mexican areas, at times. I just never felt a real connection despite how hard I tried. I always felt like an imposter but I attributed it to being mixed race.

You talk about discovering you were Black. You said in the episode about your own story “It was like I knew but I didn’t know.” Can you talk about that and what you meant? 

I’ve always loved, respected, and admired black culture. From music to television to movies to fashion, what’s not to love? As an adult, I became deeply invested in anti racism. So much of who I am aligns with being black, but it never occurred to me that I was. So it’s like I always knew on some level, while never considering that it might actually be true.

How are you absorbing or exploring this new knowledge?

I am and I’m not! I do think about what it means to be black to me, without having been exposed on a real personal level very much at all. Sometimes I feel angry about that. I’ve joined social media groups, read, and talk about it a lot in therapy. It hasn’t been that long of a journey for me, so I try to give myself grace and time. I look forward to diving into my identity more in the future.

What aspect of your own experience was most difficult for you? Was it the secrecy? That others knew? The sense of betrayal? The not knowing who your father was?

It was definitely the betrayal by my parents. As I mentioned, I always felt really close to them, so to know that they kept something like this from me was deeply hurtful.

You said that your best friend gave you wise advice to wait before reaching out to anyone until you were ready for rejection. What did that mean to you and how did you get ready for rejection?

I really didn’t have time to get ready because my sister contacted me just four days after my discovery! The advice to me meant that I needed to wait until I was out of crisis. I wasn’t even present in my body when I first found out—not exactly the best state to reach out to someone who has no idea you exist. I planned to get into therapy, process my feelings, and come up with a sound plan for whatever outcome might occur. But as I said, my persistent sister is like me and reached out with open arms right away. I’m so grateful she did.

How does grief play into your experience?

Grief is a massive part of my experience. I grieve for the loss of the version of myself before this. I grieve for how it has affected my relationship with my parents. I grieve for the life and relationship I never had because of this secret.

How crucial has therapy been and why? 

Extremely. I wasn’t able to find a therapist who specializes in NPE/MPE but found a fantastic woman who specializes in grief and trauma. I called her almost immediately, within a few days of my discovery. We’ve done DBT and EMDR to help me process the event and I credit her for how well I’m doing right now (thank you, Susannah!).

Your own DNA surprise occurred fairly recently, less than a year ago, and you began the podcast only a few months later. How and why did you decide to do a podcast? Was the genesis of the podcast a way of working out your own feelings and understanding this new experience?

I used to have a podcast with a friend and it ended it July 2021. I’d wanted to create a new one but hadn’t a clue what I wanted to do…then this happened. I decided to start the podcast because it gave me a creative outlet during an extremely difficult time in my life. While telling my own story is a path to healing, more importantly, I wanted to help others tell their stories. Another benefit of doing the show is connecting with others. It’s been incredible to have conversations with every guest.

There are a number of NPE/DNA surprise podcasts — how do you describe yours?

DNA Surprises shares the stories of people who were shocked by a DNA discovery, mostly through modern DNA testing. NPEs, adoptees, and donor conceived people are welcome to tell their stories and so are their families. My personal mission with every episode is to center the storyteller. Everyone’s story is theirs to tell—I just want to help them tell it. Ultimately, my goal is to provide support to others in this situation. My dream is to reduce the shame and stigma that lead to DNA surprises.

What’s been the reaction? What are you hearing from listeners?

The reaction has been overwhelmingly positive! NPEs, DCPs, and adoptees have all reached out to me saying that these episodes make them feel less alone. I’ve also heard from people who have no experience with DNA surprises, which is really cool to me because it means we’re raising awareness about this issue.

What if anything has most surprised you in the course of doing the podcast?

I am amazed at how similar all of our feelings and experiences are, from the initial shock to our family interactions. No matter how different our stories are, there are so many similarities.

Why do you think it’s important for people to share their stories?

Stories are how we relate to people. They’re how we connect.

Why is it important for the story teller?

The storyteller gets to take ownership of their story when they tell it. It’s also helpful for processing their feelings about their DNA discovery.

And why is it important for others to receive those stories?

For anyone experiencing a DNA surprise, hearing stories makes you realize that you are not alone. It normalizes an extremely disruptive and isolating experience. I hope it helps people find some peace. For those who aren’t familiar with our community, I think the podcast is eye-opening. And even if they don’t think they know someone in this situation, it’s likely they do. This podcast will help them help others. I also hope it helps parents make different choices.

How if at all does it help you in your own journey? 

It helps me immensely. When I speak to guests, I connect with others who understand me. I learn about new resources and frankly, feel normal in an abnormal situation. I hope I provide the same space for them.

Are you looking for participants and if so, how should they contact you?

Absolutely! If anyone would like to share their story, please email dnasurprises@gmail.com.

From the people you’ve spoken to so far, what would you say are the most common difficulties they have after discovering a DNA surprise?

Almost everyone I’ve spoken to has spent a lot of time thinking about the life they missed. One guest said half of her life was stolen from her and that’s a recurring theme. There’s also a big struggle with who to tell, specifically around telling raised or birth certificate fathers. My dad knew, but for those who did not, there’s definitely a divide in whether or not to tell. I find that really interesting.Alexis Hourselt is a full-time truth teller. She is an NPE and host of the DNA Surprises podcast. Alexis is a communications professional, vacation enthusiast, and desert dweller. She currently lives in Tucson, AZ with her husband and two children. Find her at www.dnasurprisespodcast.com and @dnasurprises on Instagram, Twitter, and Tiktok.

Severance speaks with Gina Daniel, DSW, LCSW, whose personal experience—her discovery that she’s an NPE (not-parent-expected)—has redirected her professional goals, putting the spotlight on the challenges and needs of individuals with misattributed parentage experiences. She recently earned her doctorate, her dissertation a study of the NPE experience, and she’s working to help create awareness among mental health professionals and improve their knowledge about the specific needs of people who’ve discovered misattributed parentage.Did your upbringing influence your desire to be a social worker and if so, in what way?

I expected to become an elementary teacher growing up and had no idea what social work was until I was in my 20s. However, once I discovered social work, I knew that was what I needed to do. My upbringing was full of moments when I was a little social worker (counseling, advocating, and educating) but I did not know it until later. I was raised by a single father who worked hard to be sure we could pay the rent. All the moms in the neighborhood helped to raise me.

You were already a social worker and well into your doctoral studies when you decided to change the topic of your dissertation. Can you explain why you chose to align your scholarly interests with your NPE experience?

I was. That was quite the detour. I trust my gut with most everything I do. I could not find a way to study school social work (my profession) in a way that felt interesting to me. Once the NPE event happened, I brought it to my committee and they helped me determine that this was the path that fit better for me. Knowing there was little to no scholarly research at that time was a huge attraction to me as well. I agreed and was willing to do the extra work.

How, specifically, did you design your thesis—what were you looking to discover and how did you propose to accomplish that?

I knew I would do interviews for qualitative research. The idea of secrets kept was fascinating. Also, the impact that this discovery had on me and how off balance I felt at middle age got me interested in the impact on identity. The obvious path was discussing the impact on family of origin relationships—living or deceased and on the new family relationships—living or deceased.

You interviewed 51 people. Can you describe those interviews—how you selected subjects and what the interviews involved?

I was a part of one of the private NPE Facebook groups that agreed to work with me then backed out. Another Facebook group offered assistance then stalled. Finally, a woman who was starting another NPE Facebook group offered to assist. I was a member but did not participate for a long time. The process was an advertisement of the study and a link for those interested. The criteria for interviews included having discovered paternity through a direct-to-consumer DNA Ancestry test, living in North America, being over 18.

The first round of interviews was in the fall of 2019, the second round of interviews was in the fall of 2020. Unfortunately, the first round interviews were not used in the final study. It’s a complicated story but every one of those interviews mattered significantly to me and, interestingly, my findings were the same. The interviews were incredible. People were so willing to share their personal stories, so interested in helping other NPEs, and were so vulnerable and lovely. I feel incredibly lucky to have shared some time with all of these amazing individuals.

Can you summarize your overall findings?

To summarize my research, there appears to be a significant psychological blow to participants discovering paternity/family secrets through a direct-to consumer (DTC) DNA ancestry test. There’s a struggle to incorporate the new information. Half of the participants in my research sought mental health counseling in order to cope. Personal identity is changed as a result (incorporating new family, concerns with previous family, health issues, and ethnicity changes); resemblance to family is a significant component within this experience; participants prefer the truth over not having the truth (despite the emotional difficulty); and social supports (e.g. Facebook groups) are helpful and after a certain point appear to become a ‘pay it forward’ place. In my research I called this ‘healing through helping.’

You’d already had an NPE experience, and although it was relatively new, you’d had some time to process your emotions. Was there anything revealed in the interviews that surprised you?

I had time to process and discussed with a therapist as well. The similarities in the emotions that most people shared mirrored my experience. I was surprised at the sense that some of this felt universal—deception, lies, shock/surprise, understanding, hurt—and all mostly at middle age.

What, if anything, would you describe as universal in the experience of your interviewees?

Similar emotions that erupt suddenly when the discovery is learned and then occasional eruptions of the same emotions, maybe less intensely, over time. Also, the idea that almost everyone feels alone at the beginning of this process—as if they are the only ones going through this.

If you had to choose the top three most difficult challenges or most difficult emotional issues experienced by NPEs what would they be?

Shock/surprise, anger, and feeling alone. Also the rejections from new family that happen for many.

Can you give an overview of the kinds of issues NPEs have with respect to identity and what are some strategies for dealing with them?

To be completely honest, I don’t feel I went as deeply as I should have for the identity questions. When I asked questions about if identity changed, the vast majority said yes. When I pressed the “yes” responses further with “how,” I was often met with pause in thought. However, ethnicity and health information were the most often described areas where identity shifts occurred. Seeking information about new family was necessary in order to understand more about self. I included resemblance into this section as this topic came up so often in interviews as related to not looking like family of origin, then looking like new family, children looking like new grandfathers, etc.

As far as strategies, I don’t think I have any to offer based on what was provided through the research outside of have a professional genetic counselor or mental health professional to talk with while processing these complex shifts.

This is a complex, multi-part question. I’ve noticed that for many NPEs, this experience seems to become central, becoming almost the centerpiece of their identity and front and center in their lives in an ongoing way. Is there a danger in that—in lives being overtaken in a sense by this experience?

Like with many things, it depends on how much it impacts your functioning in your typical life. I’m not sure how it can not become a central feature of a life when so much of what you’ve known about yourself is upended while doing a recreational activity. For some, how do you reconcile trust again after this occurs?

What can individuals do to help integrate the experience so it’s not overwhelming and doesn’t come ultimately to define them?

So, it can be overwhelming and create a new definition of themselves. However, the idea is that it is now an expanded definition. You are what you were and what you now know. It’s realizing that piece, I think, that’s helpful as people process the losses and grievances along the way with this experience.

Is there an end goal of assimilating this experience, or will it always be front and center? 

In my opinion, assimilating is the goal. What we cannot control, we cannot control. People may not choose to have us in their lives, and we have no option but to accept that. People may be deceased, and we get no answers to the questions we have about our existence. We again have to find a way to accept that. These are not easy tasks, but to remain in a place of anger and sadness only steals your life from you.

Many NPEs belong to support groups on Facebook and perhaps elsewhere. Can you comment on the benefits and also the limitations?

There are significant benefits belonging to a healthy group of people sharing similar experiences with something brilliant to offer us in the way of hope, support, or suggestion when needed. This is what it is to be a social human finding your ‘tribe.’ However, the limitations are when professional help is needed and people use Facebook—or when people on Facebook want to be professional mental health professionals doling out advice and are not qualified.

You wish to help educate mental health professionals about how to better treat NPEs. What are the biggest needs in that education?

Awareness of this experience to start with.

Therapists are trained to work with clients with issues related to grief, loss, shame. What are they lacking that prevents them from being able to better help NPEs?

We all hope the therapists we work with understand how to work with grief, loss, and shame, but judging from my research, many NPEs seeking mental health help were met with flippant comments minimizing their experiences. That tells me that perhaps they are not viewing this experience from the lens of grief, loss, and shame. The impact of secrets on families is an area to understand more, as well as all the ways an individual can become an NPE. This isn’t as simple as ‘mom had an affair’ in a lot of situations. I also think we are still learning the best ways to help NPEs therapeutically, so I am not in any way indicating this answer as a full and complete response to your question.

Until therapists are better trained or until there’s truly a network of therapists specializing in these issues, what advice do you have for individuals who are seeking mental health care?

Just meet with a professional you’re comfortable talking to, who is listening and seeking to understand and help. If the first one doesn’t fit, move on until you find one that clicks for you.

What should people look for in a therapist and how might they be able to tell when a therapist will not be right for them?

Someone who is not minimizing your experience. It’s completely ok to interview a therapist prior to meeting them. Ask them if they have heard of NPEs, ask if they have worked with someone who has been adopted, ask about their experience with family therapy and family secrets in therapy. If you don’t like them on the phone, move on. I suggest if you’re on the fence with a therapist (after meeting once), try them three times. If after three times it’s not helping anything, move on.

I understand you’re interested in doing research on siblings who are discovered by NPEs. I’m wondering if you have a sense yet of what reasons might keep those siblings from being accepting of NPEs?

So this is personal. I did not indicate my interest in this in my research study and am not 100% I am going to do this, but I think about it a lot. Siblings, at this age, are typically peers and have information that can help us better understand the new parent and health information. We can potentially grow old with them and have that extra layer of familial connection. However, they’re not always willing to accept the new sibling no matter what the situation was, and this can be very difficult for an NPE to cope with. Inheritances, sibling positions within the family, and loyalties to other family appear to be reasons to keep away. Like I said, this is a personal one for me so I will tread lightly as I move forward. It may also be a challenge to find siblings willing to open up unless I were to go through an NPE, so I imagine the information would be skewed toward acceptance. Still, it could be interesting to get their perspective. Maybe I am totally off base and am taking my rejection of two younger siblings too hard!

 Can you tell me about the support guide you’re working on and your hopes for it?

Well, it’s currently evolving into a blog I believe. Perhaps the blog will develop into the support guide in paper form one day. Another NPE and I are working on it currently. Our hope is that it is a helpful tool for everyone—NPEs new and existing, family members, mental health professionals. You’ll hopefully be hearing about it soon. We hope to get it really moving this summer.

 What are the most important aspects of this experience that researchers need to explore?

Well, I just completed someone’s study questionnaire from West Chester University in Pennsylvania that looks like quantitative research, so that makes me excited thinking we can get some of that info out there. Within my study, I suggest future research considerations to include qualitative research with biological mothers, longitudinal studies with NPEs, and consideration of if/how the new medical information changes behavior once misattributed paternity is uncovered.

What haven’t I asked you that you think people should know either about the NPE experience or about the work you’ve done related to it?

This experience has a spectrum of response. NPEs are many in our world, always have been, and will continue to occur. Learning about your NPE status through a direct-to-consumer DNA ancestry test is perhaps an unintended consequence to a recreational test for a most popular hobby. This is also a first world issue accessed primarily by Caucasian individuals who can afford to test for fun. The impact on identity is significant.Gina Daniel is a licensed clinical social worker. She has worked in public education as a school social worker for more than twenty years and also works in her private practice in central Pennsylvania primarily focused on individual and family work. Daniel discovered her NPE status in June 2018 and subsequently completed her doctoral dissertation with a focus on unexpected paternity discoveries through direct-to-consumer DNA ancestry testing.BEFORE YOU GO…

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By Brad EwellIn Facebook groups for people with not parent expected (NPEs) or misattributed parentage experiences (MPEs), there’s a consistent large difference in the ratio of men to women. If you were a man looking to meet women, this would be a place to be. There are typically a handful of men and thousands of women. Where are all the guys? Percentage-wise there couldn’t be that many more women than men having DNA surprises. So what’s going on here?

Looking at the bigger picture, this is a fairly common phenomenon among individuals with depression, anxiety, stress, and other mental health concerns. Several studies indicate that men are typically much less likely than women to seek professional help when facing psychological distress. The study authors suggest a number of factors for the disparity, such as the fear many men have of being judged as emotionally vulnerable or weak. Researchers also point to the fact that because men are trained from an early age to compete with other men, it makes them less likely to trust each other and reveal what they may perceive as weakness.

I posed the question to several individuals who not only are behavioral health practitioners but who also have personal experience with misattributed parentage. Their thoughts generally mirror the finding of the studies, but they offered additional insights.

According to Jodi Klugman-Rabb,* a licensed marriage and family therapist and licensed professional counselor, “Sometimes it’s as simple as the gender role conditioning specific to cultural norms that men are not manly if emotional. So expressing emotions is then seen as weak, making group process emasculating. On a more micro level, emotional process can have a lot to do with the family of origin dynamics and whether kids were allowed or encouraged to explore emotions safely, how cultural gender norms influenced that, and, to take it back out on a macro level, how these expectations were transmitted intergenerationally.”

Eve Sturges,* also a licensed marriage and family therapist, agrees. “Men,” she adds, “generally are taught to look for solutions; without a direct path, they often don’t understand the benefit.” Men view support groups as a place to talk about things, but they fail to see the benefit of the emotional burden that’s released when feelings are verbally expressed.

Men also fear that a vulnerable disclosure might disrupt the peace in their relationships, whether with their mates or family members or at work, according to Cotey Bowman,* a licensed professional counselor associate.

In order to make support groups more appealing to men, these professionals say, the stigma that prevents men from seeking support and expressing emotions must be addressed at a cultural level. Until this cultural change, the best option is to allow and encourage men to see other men model vulnerability and acceptance of emotions.

After reading the studies and talking to professionals, I can see myself and the culture I was raised in fairly accurately reflected in their comments. At 50 years old, I’ve been a police officer for half of my life. Police and other first respondors are notoriously emotionally restricted at work because the job demands it, explains Jodi Klugman-Rabb. It’s very difficult, she adds, “to ask first responders to compartmentalize at work but share at home. Most cannot walk both lines because our brains are not wired for that level of compartmentalization.” It’s an apt assessment of the people I work with daily.

I was raised in an environment where the expression of emotions was an indicator of weakness. As a result, I’ve grown into a person who is self-reliant to a fault. I try to avoid having people to do things for me because I don’t want to bother them or draw attention to myself. My dad taught me the importance of being self-sufficient and tough. When you get hurt, he said, you just “rub some dirt on it” and move on.

I vividly remember several instances in my childhood when my father imparted these lessons. Once, while building a fence, he accidentally nailed the palm of his hand to a picket fence with a nail gun. My job was to go to the other side of the fence, pull his hand off the nail, and get some duct tape so he could tape his hand up and finished the fence. Another time, he lost his balance while using a chain saw on a ladder and sawed through part of his thigh. Again, I was assigned to get the duct tape so he could tape himself back up and finish the job. (I think he got some stitches, but only after we finished the job). Finally, and most memorable, was the day he broke his leg. We were riding horses in a pasture when another horse came up alongside him. The horse tried to kick my dad’s horse, but instead kicked my dad in the shin. My dad grimaced. “We need to go back,” he said. “I think my leg is broke.” We rode back a couple of miles without him making a sound; he just wore that same grimace on his face. Once we got to the stalls, we tied up the horses, got in the truck, and started to the hospital. I was in middle school and had driven a few times around where we kept our horses but never out on the street. When we got to the road, my dad stopped and said, “If I feel like I’m going to pass out, I’ll just pull over to the side of the road and switch seats so you can drive me to the hospital.” He managed the 10-mile drive to the hospital, where he allowed me to grab a wheelchair to get him into the emergency room. Inside, I watched blood pour out when the nurses pulled his boot off. It turned out he had a compound fracture.

Clearly, reaching out to others for help is not something I was taught to do.

You may be wondering, then, how have I come to be writing an article about being emotionally vulnerable in groups? Given the way I was raised and the culture I grew up and work in, this is the last place in the world I’d want or expect to find myself. I don’t consider myself particularly weak or vulnerable. My job requires the opposite of me; I have to show courage and be strong for others. I had been in therapy once several years ago for help with some anxiety and stress issues, but my therapist had moved away and I felt better, so I didn’t take the time to find another one. I addressed it more as a strategy session than as therapy. I believe this is because, as Eve Sturges explains, I was looking for that step-by-step strategy to fix my problem and I didn’t view talking about my feelings as a useful part of the steps. I also told only a handful of people in my life that I had gone to therapy. This was intentional—a decision based on the fear of being emotionally vulnerable. I simply didn’t want to be viewed as weak and I believed that would happen if people knew I was struggling with my emotions.

So what went so wrong (or right) to bring me to the point that I’m sharing personal struggles and fears out in the world for other people to see? The answer is nothing. I finally realized no matter how much I wanted to believe I could deal with everything on my own, that’s not realistic. When I discovered that I’d been adopted, I was absolutely lost and felt totally alone. My wife was supportive, but there was no one who could really relate to the depth of loss that comes with such a discovery. My wife suggested I look on Facebook and see if there were groups formed by people who had experienced something similar. It sounded like a good idea, but I thought there would only be a handful of people at best who’ve gone through this. Instead, I found a community of thousands who have all experienced the same thing. So I lurked, devouring everyone else’s stories but not sharing my own. Over time, I observed more people sharing and receiving helpful and empathetic responses, which made me start feeling safe. And that feeling of safety finally led to me being comfortable enough to participate in the groups. I told my story to strangers who shared my experience and in return they gave me good advice and empathized. And I’ve taken it farther. Now I write about my experiences to a wider audience beyond the safety of private Facebook groups. In doing so, I’ve learned that sharing my stories has been deeply cathartic and healing. Every story I tell feels like a weight lifted off my shoulders.

As I talked to other men who have joined and participate in groups, I noticed their stories were similar to mine. They grew up learning to be self-sufficient and kept their emotions under wraps. I also noticed a common theme—a duty to keep family secrets private. I know there are many other men just like me trying to navigate their way through this NPE/MPE journey, many of them trying to go it alone. While there are likely a handful of people who can make this journey alone, I believe everyone can benefit from finding a community and experiencing its benefits.

My hope is that sharing this article and my other stories will let men know there’s a direct benefit from participating in Facebook and other support groups and sharing their stories. Cotey Bowman explains that when he works in group settings with men and is vulnerable himself, this modeled behavior is then reflected back as men in the group learn it’s safe to display emotions and vulnerability as sessions continue.Brad Ewell lives in Texas with his wife and three children. In 2019, he became a late discovery adoptee after taking a home DNA test. He feels he’s still very much in the middle of this journey and enjoys writing to help organize his thoughts and better understand his own story. Brad volunteers with Right to Know, a non-profit group dedicated to supporting people’s right to know their genetic identity. He’s told his story on two podcasts, NPE Stories and Sex, Lies, and the Truth. You can connect with him on Instagram @Brad1407, on Facebook, or email him at mpebrad@gmail.com.

Read more of his articles and essays: An Unexpected Abandonment, Dear Mom and Dad, and Watching and Waiting. *Eve Sturges is the host of a podcast, Everything’s Relative with Eve Sturges. Jodi Klugman-Rabb is the developer of Parental Identity Discovery and the co-host of the podcast Sex, Lies & the Truth. Cotey Bowman is the creator of the MPE Counseling Collective.BEFORE YOU GO…

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

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Recognizing the challenges facing individuals who experience DNA surprises, Adoption Network Cleveland (ANC) has launched the DNA Discoveries Peer Support Group, a virtual peer support program focused on the emotional impacts of the journey. It kicks off with a special panel on February 2 facilitated by ANC’s search specialist, Traci Onders, that will feature an individual who’s discovered misattributed parentage, a donor-conceived person, and adoptees who have found birth family. Onders spoke with us about the program and the personal journey that led her to working with ANC.

How did you come to Adoption Network Cleveland and how did you become interested in this work?

I started as program coordinator for adult adoptees and birthparents in 2016. I’d begun volunteering at Adoption Network Cleveland (ANC) prior to that because its mission was personally important to me. Adoption Network Cleveland advocated for adoptee access to records in Ohio for more than 25 years, and finally in 2013 Ohio passed legislation that opened up original birth certificates to adult adoptees. It’s hard to imagine this would have happened without the steadfast determination of ANC, and as an adoptee, I wanted to give back to the organization that made it possible for me to request and receive my original birth certificate. ANC is a nonprofit organization and has a reputation for advocacy rooted in understanding, support, and education—a meaningful mission to me.

I was born to a woman who had been sent to a home for unwed mothers to hide the shame of pregnancy from the small town in which her family lived. There was no counseling available for the grief of relinquishing a child, and she was told to go on with her life and forget about it. These homes no longer exist; we know now how awful and hurtful this practice, rooted in shame, is.

My birthfather died a year later in a tragic accident. He was also an adoptee, raised as a son by his maternal grandparents. I will never know if he knew who his father was, but thanks to DNA, I do.

I first searched for my birthmother more than 20 years ago after my children were born. Pregnancy and childbirth made me want to know more about the woman who carried me and gave me a deep understanding that she made decisions that had to be extremely difficult and painful in a way that I had not previously appreciated. I had complicated pregnancies and no medical history for myself or my children. As a mother, I felt compelled to know and understand more about both my history and my beginning. At that time, I discovered that the agency that handled my adoption, Ohio Children’s Society, had destroyed its records. I had no information at all to work with, and my search hit a brick wall. It was important to me that I connect with my birthmother in a way that was respectful. I didn’t know if she had told anyone she’d relinquished me, and I was concerned that if I hired a private investigator, the PI might use tactics that I wasn’t comfortable with or make a possible secret known to others, and that this somehow might hurt my birthmother or her family. Until I could request my original birth certificate in 2015, I didn’t have many options. In 2015, adoptees were finally able to access their original birth certificates in Ohio, and when I did this, it named my birthmother. I also discovered that I have a maternal half-sister. My birthmother and I reunited very shortly after that. I was finally able to learn her story and to gain a more complete and ongoing medical history. Knowing these things and my relationship with her have been blessings in my life that for many years I did not imagine would be possible. A few months later I met the extended family, and their warm welcome touched my heart.

My search for my birthfather led me to test my DNA at Ancestry and 23andMe. I‘d been told who he was, but since he died very young, I did not have the opportunity to connect with him or understand his story. Using DNA, I was able to confirm what I’d been told, which allowed resolution that I might not have been able to find in such ambiguous circumstances. He was a kinship adoptee, and I was able to determine his parentage.

I learned that although he died when he was twenty-three years old, he’d had three children with 3 different women—that I have two paternal half-brothers, both born to different woman. The first died as an infant. The second brother took a DNA test to learn his ethnicity. He discovered misattributed parentage—that the man who raised him and is on his birth certificate is not his biological father and that I am his paternal half-sister. We don’t know if his father knows, or even if his mother knows for sure. He doesn’t want to discuss this with them, and that’s his decision.

At ANC, we use DNA to help adoptees solve for unknown parentage, and my own search made me acutely aware of how much in recent years DNA was tearing down brick walls and helping connect people who might otherwise never find each other. It also made me particularly sensitive to the fact that some of these discoveries can be quite earth-shifting for people.

As my work in this area grew, I was promoted to search specialist to greater focus on assisting those in search, utilizing both traditional methods and DNA. ANC provides support and guidance throughout the journey of search—before, during and after—and has for more than 30 years. I came to appreciate how many people outside the adoption community were also  touched by DNA discoveries.

My own personal history of search and reunion give me an important connection with the people I work with because I can truly understand how these questions can consume one’s thoughts and time. I can relate to the frustrations, the joys, the sadness, the loss, the quest for knowledge when one doesn’t know their “chapter one,” the feeling of having to write “medical history unknown—adopted” every time one fills out medical forms or sees a new healthcare provider. Having reunited with my birthmother, I know the roller coaster of emotions that reunions can bring. I have a deep respect and understanding of the birthparent’s experience because of my work with many birth families and also my connections to my birth family.

Through my own journey, I have come to realize many things about adoption. It’s a lifelong journey, and not a one-time transaction. My work helping others separated by adoption to find each other—whether it is adoptees searching for birth family, birth family searching for adoptees, or more recently people that have DNA surprise discoveries—has revealed many complexities and similarities. When we shine a light on these discoveries, we find the impacts of secrets, shame, infertility, racism, money, power, privilege, mental health, abuse, neglect, domestic violence, trauma, addiction, grief, loss, religion, social class—to name a few. For me, it’s important to advocate for progressive practices and reform in adoption and child welfare.

The DNA Discovery Peer Support February 2 panel discussion is a joint endeavor by Adoption Network Cleveland and Adoption Knowledge Affiliates. Can you describe the nature of the collaboration?

Adoption Network Cleveland founded in 1988 and Adoption Knowledge Affiliates founded in 1991 have a lot in common. Both organizations were founded by adoptees with a vision to bring together adoptees, birthparents, adoptive parents, and professionals in an effort to increase knowledge, service, and understanding. Both have been impactful organizations over the years. With the pandemic and our world going virtual, ANC and AKA partnered to host a joint virtual conference in October 2020, combining conferences each organization had planned and been forced to cancel in the spring.

At ANC, we had been discussing how to better meet the needs of people who were coming to us with DNA discoveries—not only adoptees but those with misattributed parentage, individuals who are donor conceived, and others. Adoption Knowledge Affiliates started its DNA Discovery Peer Support Group in Sept. 2020, and ANC planned to start one in 2021. Adoption Network Cleveland and AKA are collaborating for the panel discussion on Feb. 2, and from there each will individually hold its own DNA Discovery Peer Support groups. People who might find more than one meeting a month helpful might like to have options.

How was ANC’s DNA Discoveries Peer Support group developed and conceived and why it was felt to be necessary?

At this point the majority of searches we assist with have a DNA component. In addition, we’d like to increase engagement of people with DNA discoveries beyond adoption-based situations. We have expertise in this area and would like to be a resource in a broad variety of situations. People are finding biological family or are being found; and they’re finding new information about their core identity, such as ethnicity, birth order, unexpected relatives, and more. There can be a wide range of reactions by those being found and those searching.

Many of the issues that folks are working through with a DNA discovery are the very same core issues experienced by the adoption community, such as loss, rejection, guilt and shame, grief, identity, intimacy, and control.

We felt uniquely positioned to offer support and guidance in a manner similar to what we have been doing through our General Discussion Meetings, which are open to anyone touched by adoption and/or foster care. Adoption Network Cleveland started holding these meetings more than 30 years ago, so we bring deep knowledge and the meetings evolve to meet current needs. More information about those meetings can be found here.

Adoptees who are using DNA to make these discoveries are excited to find new information and new relatives. It can be important to remember that we don’t know what this discovery might mean for the person on the other side, such as in the case of misattributed parentage for example, where someone might be learning that the man that raised them isn’t their biological father.

We wanted to create a safe place for people to speak about the emotional impact of these discoveries, in a confidential environment with people who have walked a similar journey and truly understand.

Are the groups being held via Zoom? Are they virtual as a consequence of COVID-19 or will they remain open to people from any location when virus restrictions lift?

We will be using Google Meet, which is a lot like Zoom. The DNA Discovery Peer Support Group and our General Discussion Meetings are free, but advance registration is required so that one can receive the link for the meeting. The meetings are the second Tuesday each month, 8-10 PM Eastern Time. Registration can be found on our calendar. We plan to assess and see once it’s off the ground if the meetings will remain structured virtually. Personally, I see this continuing as a virtual group if there is a demand.

How do you envision how these groups will go? Will each group meeting be facilitated? By you? What’s the goal and desired outcome?

Our group will be focusing on the emotional impact of DNA discoveries. This is something that all discoveries have in common, and this will be a place where people can really connect and provide understanding, another perspective, and support. Our DNA Discovery Peer Support Group and our General Discussion Meetings are facilitated by experienced volunteers who are supported and overseen by our staff. I will be assisting with the DNA Discovery Peer Support Group as needed, and, as a search specialist, I am available for individualized guidance, one-on-one search assistance, and support. The experienced volunteer facilitation team members chosen for the DNA Discovery group are both adoptees with their own personal DNA discoveries. The group they lead is shifting from being one of ANC’s six monthly General Discussion Meetings to meet this specific need.

Our goal with the DNA Discovery Peer Support Group is to provide a safe and supportive environment where people feel open to discuss a major life event—finding out new information about themselves and their identities. One does not need a connection to adoption to attend these meetings. We will be focused on supporting people throughout their journey and helping them to connect with others who truly understand how earth-shifting this can feel, how others have worked through their own discoveries, and the accompanying emotions. We understand these types of discoveries are not a one-time event, they are lifelong journeys. Connecting with others who have walked a similar path can help to normalize what can be an overwhelming experience.

What do you believe are the most significant issues, the most pressing concerns, for which people need support after a DNA Discovery?

Every situation is individual and unique, so it’s hard to generalize. However, the core issues that arise are very much the same that we know from adoption and permanency: loss, rejection, guilt and shame, grief, identity, intimacy, and control.

DNA testing has the power to unravel decades old secrets and can make individuals question their ideas of family, or religion, or even morality. I am a firm believer that everyone has a right to know their genetic heritage, but that does not mean anyone has a right to a relationship, as that is something for both parties to determine. Many people who take a DNA test do not think they will receive a result that might include a surprise such as a different ethnicity, or a new sibling, a different parent, an unknown child, a niece or cousin. Discoveries can also include learning one is adopted (late-discovery adoptees) or donor conceived. These can be a very powerful experiences and can upend long held beliefs.

In what ways do you believe peer support makes a difference? How does it help?

Connecting with others who have been there and understand can be normalizing and healing.

We have followed a peer support model for our General Discussion Meetings for more than 30 years with great success. We’ve welcomed those with DNA discoveries to these meetings as technology has evolved. It can be extremely valuable to hear the perspectives of other individuals who have walked a similar journey and truly understand. I’ve seen people make wonderful connections with each other and learn insights that might not have happened anywhere else. Peer support offers a place to work through some of the core issues such as loss, rejection, grief, identity, shame and guilt. Hearing how other’s work through their journeys provides a variety of options as we consider connecting with relatives and offers a chance to see how people have gained a sense of control over the experience of discovery, and not have it control them. Peer support also offers an opportunity for people who are farther along in their journey to give back.

What limitations are there, if any, to peer support? 

Peer support is not meant to take the place of therapy, and individual therapy can be a very powerful and healing experience. Accessibility can be a limitation for some.

In addition to the peer support group, ANC also offers a Monday evening speakers group. Can you tell us more about that?

Adoption Network Cleveland is a leader in bringing the adoption community together to create a network of support and advocacy. In this critical and uncertain time for all of us, we are pleased to offer a Monday Evening Speaker Series full of topics that are of interest to a broad audience impacted by adoption, kinship, and foster care. More information and recordings of past presentations can be found here.

Learn more about the DNA Discovery Peer Support special February 2 panel and the ongoing group here. And for information about other programs and events, click here.

Look for Adoption Network Cleveland on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter @adoptionnetcle. Look for Adoption Knowledge Affiliates on Facebook and onInstagram @aadoptionknowledgeaffiliates.Traci Onders is a search specialist at Adoption Network Cleveland (ANC). An adoptee herself, she’s facilitating ANC’s new DNA Discovery Peer Support Group special panel on February 2. 

By Andromeda Romano-LaxThe gossip reaches me on New Year’s Eve, two days after my birthday—worth mentioning only because birthdays often put me in a reflective state that can easily turn to melancholy, and this year is no different. I’m in Mexico City, on vacation, about to go to dinner with my husband, mood beginning to lift. Then I receive the email from my sister.

It reads: “Considering that Mom could pass any day, I thought I should tell you a.s.a.p. in case you don’t know about it, which I assume you don’t.”

The news she shares is second-hand gossip from an old family “friend” who showed up to visit my mother—then dying of brain cancer—to reminisce, burn private letters and relive the good old days. The friend, who played little part in any of our lives for decades, revealed to another family member that my father wasn’t really my father. That person told the sister who emailed me. Now I’m the last in the four-person chain to find out.

As for my mom: she’s not talking, and never will, which isn’t surprising given her love of secrets and lifelong fear of being judged for parenting errors. Her fears are valid. I do judge her, most of all for not keeping my sisters safe when we were all younger.

Before leaving our hotel room to go to dinner, I reply to my sister: “That’s a big surprise! How lucky I don’t feel especially attached to ‘Dad’ or his side of the family or it could be upsetting.”

I take pride in my stoic response and the fact that I severed relations years ago with our late father—an undeniably “bad man.” But that stoicism is really only disorientation. I have no idea, at this time, that my identity and much of what I’d thought about both my parents will have to be recalibrated.

I never would have imagined that my mom, a self-identified, non-practicing Catholic with an affinity for the Virgin Mary, probably had multiple affairs when she was still married to her first husband, who came from a large Sicilian-Polish family. But there was a lot about our family I never suspected until each bomb dropped: for example, when, at age 14, I learned that my two older sisters, then 16 and 19, had been molested for years by the sweet-tempered, funny and charming man we called “Dad.”

The truth came out in jarring bursts. I remember a confusing scene in our living room when my sisters, in some argument with my mother, summoned the courage or rage to tell her what had happened to them. I can’t recall any words from my mom’s side, only my oldest sister’s repeating howls: “Oh no, oh no, oh no.” Until that point, she’d thought she was the only one. The knowledge that she hadn’t managed to stop the predator she knew well from seeking a second, even weaker prey—our middle sister—shattered her.

I remember a second confusing scene later that year, when our middle sister was locked in a downstairs bathroom. Her boyfriend called to tell me I needed to break down the door. Inside, she was trying to take her life. The boyfriend—bless his bravery and candor—told me why. It was Dad, again. I don’t know who made the 911 call. I do know I found my sister’s unconscious body. While everyone else converged at the hospital, I was left home alone to clean up the blood.

My parents divorced when I was three. The last time I saw my dad I was fourteen. I have no memory of him ever touching me. I find it incredible, even now, to think about the lengths he went to abuse my sisters—using not only emotional manipulation but also drugs and travel across international borders to conceal what he was doing. In other words, he was not only giving in briefly to unhealthy urges—as if that isn’t bad enough. He planned his molestation. He took steps to avoid prosecution.

After connecting the dots between his strategic, predatory behavior and my sisters’ exceptionally difficult teen years, I refused to see our father again, and he made no effort to ask why I’d stopped calling or hadn’t attended his father’s funeral. I think he felt a cold wind blowing. I think he knew there was at least one person—and maybe more—who had seen under his mask. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he retired to Mexico not too many years later. He died when I was in my late thirties.

And now, in my mid-forties, I’m being told that he wasn’t my biological father after all.

***

After the surprise settles and the DNA swab test results are returned, I look for the silver lining. He was a sick, morally bankrupt person. Isn’t it better to think I share no genes with him or any of his ancestors? Not that I believe pedophilia or an inclination to abuse is passed along genetically. No doubt his actions were a result of his environment. I have every reason to suspect my grandfather sexually abused his own daughters (my father’s sisters) as well. It’s even possible that my father was himself abused. Perhaps—the thought evolves in my mind as time passes—it was even condoned.

“Better to keep it in the family,” is the horrible phrase that comes to mind.

For a long time, I’m tempted to blame heritage, poverty, or lack of education for the practices that seemed accepted—though never openly talked about—in my father’s family. Even now I can cite recent news from Italy, where in some parts of the country, incest and sexual abuse are condoned. (In Italy, incest is illegal only if it “provokes scandal,” which sounds terrible, until you consider that in Spain, France and Portugal, it isn’t illegal, period.)

But any quick survey, like easy finger-pointing at priests or coaches or other groups, overlooks the fact that sexual abuse is discouragingly common everywhere. Writes Mia Fontaine in a story called “America has an incest problem” in The Atlantic, “One in three-to-four girls, and one in five-to-seven boys are sexually abused before they turn 18, an overwhelming incidence of which happens within the family.” Those figures are underestimates, due to underreporting.

If incest was preferable in my father’s family to affairs with grown women or molestation of children outside the family, then I have one answer to the question of why a non-biological child would be left alone. But did my father know I wasn’t his child? He never deprived me of appropriate affection. I felt loved, even when, at the age of 13, I cut off my hair and went through a punk phase that would last years.

Maybe that punk phase and my insistence on androgyny—or my manner, a “don’t FUCK with me” vibe that I mastered well before I had any reason to suspect my father of being a child molester, was one reason I was left alone, completely apart from blood relations. That’s what I would have said, as a young adult.

It’s comforting to think we have agency. It’s even more reassuring to think we can fashion the right armor for ourselves, and that perhaps some of us know, subconsciously, that such armor is needed. But it would be dangerous—as well as self-serving—to assume that one can so easily guarantee one’s own safety by acting or dressing a certain way. Life teaches us otherwise.

There are other possibilities, like birth order or simple opportunity, to explain why I wasn’t violated—or not violated yet—in the time before I broke off contact. (And note: I made that choice at the age of 14. My mother registered no opinion or even said a negative word about my father, as I can recall—clinging to her belief that it’s better not to judge people. She was frighteningly consistent, if nothing else.)

In any case, I was lucky—at least once, and maybe twice. Lucky because I was left untouched. Lucky again, because I was, and still am, free to imagine my biological father was a better person than the first man my mother married.

*

After my DNA surprise, a cousin reaches out and offers to help find my bio-dad. I’m reluctant. My own family history has convinced me to beware fathers, generally. There’s a good chance I’ll leave one “Dad” behind only to find a new one with his own character flaws or criminal background—someone who might want to take advantage of me. Even as an adult, I feel emotionally vulnerable.

My “amateur detective” cousin keeps sending messages—she enjoys these kinds of searches and excels at them—and I finally relent. Less than a month later, she introduces me to the identity of my bio-dad. His photo and other details provided by his living siblings leave no doubt. I experience the shock of seeing my own features, as well as that of my adult son, in the face of a stranger. I experience the double-shock of realizing this matters to me, when I thought it wouldn’t. I can’t stop clicking on the digital photos sent to me of his face at three ages—young boy, adolescent, twenty-something man—and finding them both familiar and somehow comforting.

More details emerge. My biological father is no longer alive, having died in an accident just a week before my birth. His long-ago passing was both tragic—not only for him and his family but probably for my late mother, who must have spent that final week of pregnancy in deep grief. But in a strange way, in addition to sadness and belated sympathy, I feel relief. I have nothing to fear from this new biological relative. I can accept without wariness or doubt the good details I hear: that he was a kind brother, for example.

Even with a new father to think about, I spend more time mulling the old one—trying to find consolation in knowing that we aren’t related. Given the frequency of DNA surprises, how many people are at first relieved to discover they aren’t related to a parent who was a murderer, or carrying some heritable disease, or simply unlucky in life? Especially if we are the children of someone who did something heinous, the ground shifts. We struggle to regain our footing, hoping to land in a better spot than we were before.

And yet, that’s not the whole story, either. As the news continues to sink in over the next year, I realize I’ve lost a lot. Anyone who has experienced a DNA-testing surprise may understand. Now, my sisters are only half-sisters, and my mother has been proven to be not only a person who hid the truth, but someone who wouldn’t relent even when asked directly, smiling in response to my sister’s questions. If she’d become upset, I would have sympathized. But a Cheshire-cat smile, tickled by the power of what she had to withhold? That’s harder to forgive.

My already-small extended family is further diminished. I can no long claim the great grandparents—one of them, a polyglot—on my father’s side. When my mother and aunt die in the same year, I’m without older relatives altogether, aside from my sisters. The family tree I thought I knew, already pruned by divorce, has been hacked to pieces and carted away.

I lose any sense of connectedness with living cousins—people I barely knew anyway, because we all mostly stopped talking when I stopped seeing my father. He refused to explain why we weren’t in contact, leaving them to assume that he was the puzzled victim of some conflict initiated by me and my sisters. Now, through social media, a few of my cousins send tactful messages, saying I’m still “family.” It doesn’t feel that way to me, especially given how little we all interacted for decades, but I am grateful for their kindness.

The biggest loss—and the one I’ve least anticipated—is how deeply sorry I am to have lost my Italian-American heritage. For most of my life, I’ve looked in the mirror and imagined that my calves were Roman calves, my nose an Italian nose, my stature and dark coloring and love of wine and Italian food all explicable, and meaningful, because it connected me to a rich heritage. By the time I find out Dad isn’t my bio-dad, I’ve traveled to Italy twice—the second time to write a novel set there.

Now, that novel and all the emotions attached to it seem distant. But another fictional representation of my family angst takes its place.

This month will mark the publication of the most personal novel I’ve ever written, called Annie and the Wolves. It’s the story of a modern-day historian who finds her life intertwined with that of her subject, Annie Oakley. In both historical and modern storylines, characters struggle to recover from abuse. As it happens, one of America’s great icons, an 1800s sharpshooter who took the world by storm, she was molested too—in this case, by a farm family called “the Wolves” who held her captive when she was between the ages of ten to twelve.

It doesn’t take a psychologist to imagine why I was drawn to that plot.

In my novel, which takes place across a century, characters struggle to remember, to uncover dark family secrets and deal with vengeful desires—all in the hopes of finding a way forward.

My own path includes exactly this: finding a way, through both fiction and nonfiction, to deal with my family’s legacy and my own confused feelings. I’ve been liberated from one connection. But in another way, I feel more chained to my father and his story than ever—unable to shake them off. You’ll notice I still choose to call him “Dad” and “my father.” It’s a choice I’ve made only recently, in part to be more honest with the influence he had on me, from birth at least until age fourteen. Biology isn’t everything. I’ve spent time thinking about his upbringing, wondering why he did what he did and what he, himself, may have suffered.

The man I grew up loving was almost certainly a victim who passed along his damage to others, repeating what was done to him. He wasn’t really a monster, of course. But he was a predator—someone who hunted his prey with cunning.

Regardless of any blood connection, he’s a wolf I’ve had to confront—one who still prowls the dark corners of my mind.Andromeda Romano-Lax is the author of Annie and the Wolves (Soho, Feb. 2, 2021) as well as four other novels. She lives in British Columbia, Canada. You can visit her website and find her on Instagram.

Christina Bryan has an impressive portfolio of skills that make her exceedingly good at her work as a genetic and family investigator, but it’s her tenacity that drives her success where others may fail. Based in Marin County, California, she helps clients across the country cope with life-altering DNA test results and shocking family surprises, untangling misattributed parentage discoveries and locating their biological family members. Whether working with adoptees, donor-conceived adults, or others who’ve had a misattributed parentage experience (MPE), she employs an array of investigative strategies and doesn’t stop until she’s solved a client’s puzzle.

A Portland, Oregon native, Bryan moved to the Bay area to go to California State University, East Bay, where she earned a bachelor’s degree in sociology and became a performance analyst in the investment banking field. But after she took an autosomal DNA test in 2014, she found herself on a new career trajectory. She learned about the science of DNA, applied it to her own family tree, and began using her newfound skills to help others solve the puzzle of their parentage or better understand their ancestry. It quickly became apparent it wasn’t merely a hobby; it was a calling, as the nickname her clients have given her suggests—Super Sleuth.

In 2016, she began taking on complex cases for high profile clients and performing international and historical research. She’s in demand not only for her persistence but also for her intuition, which has helped her solve cases for attorneys and law enforcement personnel. She’s also co-host, with Jodi Klugman-Rabb, of Sex, Lies & the Truth, an entertaining and informative podcast about DNA surprises.

Bryan knows her job doesn’t begin and end with solving a case. She’s likely to encounter clients experiencing stress, trauma, identity confusion, and intense emotions related to their change of status within their family and she offers comfort, humor, and emotional support. Here she talks with us about her work.

Do you call yourself an investigator or a genetic genealogist?

I’ve toyed with the title several times and am currently settled on genetic and family investigator. I also do general investigative work that’s completely unrelated to DNA and family research, so I’ve removed genealogist completely from my title.

What do most clients want when they come to you?

Everyone wants answers and a deeper and honest understanding of their story. Who wouldn’t? Clients who’ve been adopted or are NPEs (not parent expected) frequently know very little about their biological truth. If a client is looking for a relationship, I think that’s great. When someone comes with an open heart and mind, I’m profoundly impressed. We know that the other side—the biological family being sought—may look at things very differently, and that’s what we ultimately prepare for. For example, those on the other side may not feel as though they’ve lost anything or maybe don’t want to be found just yet. They may not have an open heart or mind and they may reject you for reasons that would never have occurred to you. Some want a relationship, but not necessarily a parent/child relationship. Maybe they are wondering about siblings or cousins their own age. Finding someone for the client to connect with is important for me, regardless of who it is.

Do you ever have clients who don’t want to make contact but just want the information?

Many of those I’ve worked with over the years start out just wanting some information. It feels safer for them to learn in bits and pieces and not come out swinging. But as you can imagine, it becomes hard to do nothing when the details begin to appear. You see familiar faces or hear details that interest you and you need a next step.

Is it true that you almost always find what you’re seeking?

I do have two outstanding paternity cases that are my most difficult and remain unsolved. There are even two close DNA matches, but the family is covered in NPEs at every turn. I’ve been able to discern quite a bit about the circumstances, but just need one more match on each that turns the tide our way.

In those rare cases when you’re not successful, are there typical reasons?

I never close a case, so an unsolved case will always remain open and on my radar. The most common reason for a brick wall is multiple NPEs within a family. Sometimes I need to solve another NPE case within the same family before I can move forward. This is particularly difficult when you encounter a relative who doesn’t even know they have the NPE in their family. It’s not my place to share information with someone when they are not even looking (unless it clearly impacts the case). If they are researching Grandmas’s side, I wouldn’t volunteer “Guess what, Grandpa’s not really your Grandpa.” It’s hard to sit on my hands in those situations, but, with rare exceptions, I need to do only what I was hired to do.

One client—I’ll call her Jane—was looking to find out who her biological father was. One man who was a candidate had two sisters who were happy to provide DNA for comparison to Jane. While looking at the sisters, I noticed the DNA measurement was not consistent with them being full sisters. One was an NPE and didn’t know it. I did not share the information with them.

What’s been your most challenging case?

My most challenging case turned out to be one of my most rewarding in the end. The client and siblings were raised in a few different orphanages in London during the 1950s, where they endured extreme physical and sexual abuse, which has since been uncovered as widespread. The case also involved a cult, parents that didn’t want to be found, a cover-up at every turn, and quite a bit of pain and sorrow. Regardless, they’ve learned their story, and they needed to know it.

How do you advise clients to go about contacting any biological relatives you find?

I recommend sending a snail mail letter sent via FED-EX with a signature required—the direct adult signature required option. If you choose the FED-Ex indirect signature option, it may go to a neighbor if the addressee is not home. There’s just too much uncertainty with email and connecting through social media. Those are last-ditch efforts, as is sending a message to an individual’s workplace. And I always recommend not showing up to someone’s work or home.

Making contact through other people can sometimes be a critical mistake. Here’s an example. You find cousin Susie as a match on a DNA site. You directly ask cousin Susie if she’s heard any rumors about your birth mother, then proceed to share you are the long lost and possibly secret daughter or son. What if Susie tells the whole family before you’ve had a chance to contact your birth mother? It may feel like a violation of your birth mother’s privacy. I think giving the birth mother a chance to respond first is the respectful thing to do.

Now, if you’ve given the birth mother a chance to respond and, say, she declines, then you are free to speak to whomever you want. Every human is entitled to know and share their truth, period. I tend to recommend a one-month time limit for birth parents to respond before sending a follow-up message. Otherwise, it can just drag on and on.

What fears do people have about searching?

Rejection! Imagine after you’ve made the decision to search and you get the door slammed in your face. You’ve really got to be ready for that to happen.

Clients also relying on other people’s stories or outcomes as possibilities for them. For example, if they’ve heard a nightmare scenario from someone else who’s searched, they assume they will find the same. Many worry the biological mother had been raped or there was an affair or some other turbulent event. Though we know the reason can be much simpler than that, it’s hard to fathom a mother giving up a child or concealing the identity of the biological father for any other reason.

Rejection is a realistic fear. Attempted reunions don’t always turn out well and can, in fact, be heartbreaking. How do you help clients manage expectations and prepare for the possibility of rejection?

I play a little game called “what would you do/how would you feel.” It’s actually more like a game of interrogation, because it needs to be. I ask tough and uncomfortable questions that one might never have considered. Here are some examples from real cases.

For adoptees searching for their birthparents: how would you feel or what would you do if:

• your birth parents were married with a few children when they gave you up?
• they were married and went on to have more children after you were adopted?
• after finding your birth parents, they both wanted you to call them “Mom and Dad”?
• you contacted a birth parent and they completely denied you and insisted they never gave a child up for adoption?
• you learned you had a twin sibling that your birth parents kept?
• your adoptive parents were closely related to your biological parents?
• your biological parents were a different race than you were told?
• your parents were not the religion you’d been told they were?
•  if both of your birth parents were deceased?

Also, how would you feel about your adoptive parents, and would you be open to sharing the journey with them?

For NPEs searching for a biological father or paternal relatives, how would you feel or what would you do if:

• your biological father turned out to be your dad’s best friend?
• your mother had been sexually assaulted?
• your biological father was a prolific sperm donor who may have fathered dozens of children?

For all searchers, how would you feel or what would you do if:

• your biological family members thought they were too good for you and showed zero interest?
• you were lied to right to your face?
• you were mistreated by the people you’d been looking for?
• you found a biological parent who asked you not to tell your biological siblings anything?
• You found a biological family who pretends you don’t exist?
• you finally found your biological family and they wanted you to take care of them financially?
• you felt no connection at all to your biological family?

If you’re not prepared for any of these scenarios or responses, you may not be ready to reach out. You really need to be prepared for anything.

Do you continue to work with clients after you’ve found their family member/s? Do you work with them on next steps or on managing their emotions?

After spending a lot of time on a case, I’m pretty emotionally connected myself, as I should be. I’m always thankful and honored to have been part of someone’s search, regardless of the outcome. It can be such an emotional experience, and one of the biggest of their lives, and they are putting a lot of trust in me.

The reality is, the DNA part of the case can be a cinch. Nowadays, most people can log into a commercial DNA site and help someone find the answers they are looking for. There are thousands of search angels who can do just that. This is where I differentiate myself from some of the volunteer searchers. My real work is navigating the emotional pieces of the case and ensuring the search is tailor-made to each specific person. I call it crisis management, and I’m confident it’s where I do my best work.

Can you talk about some of those emotional pieces experienced by clients during this journey?

Fear: what are they going to find?

Rejection: what if their biological relatives don’t want them?

Sadness/sorrow: if their bio parents are deceased.

Shock/surprise: finding something they never expected.

Anger: at having missed out on something they needed.

Happiness/elation: finding exactly what they needed.

Settled/at peace: finally finding the answers, regardless of what they are.

Connection: making an instant bond

Disappointment: if they thought they would feel different

How can potential clients find you?

I don’t advertise or poach potential clients who are vulnerable from Facebook groups. I rely exclusively on word of mouth and referrals from past clients and family and friends. Generally, I receive an inquiry email or a call/text from potential clients. Anyone who needs help can find me at at my website, send a message to me at christina@dnasleuth.com, or call me at (415) 378-1993. And if you’d like to share your story on the Sex, Lies & the Truth podcast, I’d love to hear from you. You can even participate anonymously if you like.

COMING SOON, A NEW COLUMN

Check back soon for a new column, Dear Christina, in which Christina Bryan answers your questions about all aspects of search and reunion. “I’m a neutral party, so I look at these situations from both sides. That’s the best way to make a cohesive and successful process for the searchers,” she says. You can ask her anything from advice about searching to how to fix an outreach that didn’t go well. Or you could tell your story so Christina can advise you about how to proceed or validate your choices and make suggestions for readers.

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.
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By Mary Beth SammonsDuring these tumultuous and uncertain times, we’re all looking for the courage and inspiration to keep on keeping on. Many of us are exploring our identities and looking for clues and connections to our past, present, and futures stories. These stories can touch us, move us, and make us feel a little better, often deepening our connections to the people around us. We all have a primal need for belonging, and these connections are built around our stories.

Many of us are turning to 23andMe.com, Ancestry.com, FamilySearch.org, and other websites to discover family legacy stories, hoping to find a deeper sense of identity and the answers to profound identity questions: “What makes us who we are?” “To whom am I biologically related?” “Who am I?”

But sometimes digging into the family tree unearths pieces of a bigger story than the one you might have envisioned.

The good news is that experts say knowing the truth, even if it feels harsh or hard to accept at first, can be healing. In some cases, it can give us a sense of empathy and greater connection to others when we realize we are all human; sometimes we find ourselves making decisions that have a ripple effect for generations to come. In her book Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love, author Dani Shapiro says: “When we tell the secret that we feel sets us so completely apart from everyone else, we discover that it doesn’t and that to connect with others is valuable and powerful.”

Carole Hines has experienced firsthand how learning the truth can answer questions that have nagged her throughout her life. She always knew she was somehow different than her siblings, but it was not until she got the results of her DNA test that she knew why. All her life, she says, she never understood racism or prejudice. When a DNA test revealed the San Francisco resident did not share the 99% of European descent of her two siblings—that she did not have the same biological father and she was mostly Latina—she began a journey of deeper understanding into racial divides.

“I always was opposed to anything that diminishes people because of their race or ethnicity or how they live,” says Hines, 70. “Now I better understand what I instinctively knew in my pores, that I was of a different color, that I was a little bit different. Maybe I feel so strongly about racial equality because I was always fighting unconsciously for myself.”

Hines’ story underscores the experience of a growing number of DNA seekers who have received life-changing results that are forcing them to reimagine their identities. For many, this process has recast entire lives with surprises including shocking lineages, long-lost siblings, and family secrets that might have been buried for decades. It’s opened questions about heritage, ethnicity, race, culture, and privacy.

“If seekers approach the findings with an open mind, it can lead to a sense of empathy for others with different ethnicity, religion or race when we realize we are all human,” says Anita DeLongis, PhD, who is leading a study at the University of British Columbia’s Centre for Health and Coping Studies exploring the phenomenon of individuals uncovering shocking DNA discoveries.

For Mallory Guy, learning about her biological parents and their family history helped her better understand the cultural climate that forced them to make the decision to give their daughter up for adoption. Instead of dividing us, she believes DNA revelations can help unite us. Now, she says she really appreciates what her family went through, and she has taken these lessons of perseverance and put them into play in her own life.

Guy knew from an exceedingly early age that she was adopted. Her mother and father provided an incredibly loving home in Parma, Ohio, where she and her four siblings⁠—three of them also adopted—thrived. But the little girl who loved to read always imagined what it would be like to meet her Korean parents. She had a deep longing to find out more about who they were and what their life was like in the country where she was born.

In 2013, Guy, 33, now a mom to two young children, Emmie and Jordan, decided to take a DNA test to see if she had any genetic health red flags. After six years of hunting, she got her answer on September 3, 2019, when a cousin she discovered through DNA connected her to her biological mother and father and her two siblings in Korea. “I was shocked,” she says. “I was at work when I got the call and just couldn’t believe what I was hearing.”

When she finally made that connection, the myth that she had believed, that she was simply abandoned, was replaced with a new, life-giving truth. Guy had been born with a cleft palate, and her biological parents had made the tough decision to allow her to be adopted by Americans who could afford the extensive surgeries she needed.

“I had believed all my life that I was abandoned at an orphanage at four months, but now I know that my parents did it out of love to give me a better life,” says Guy. She learned her Korean birth name was Jae Boon Lee.

In March of 2020, Guy and her American family had planned to travel from Ohio to Korea to meet her birth parents and biological brother and sister. During their three-week stay, her Korean parents had planned to cook for her, and she had already scoped out a Korean grocery store in town. But then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and Guy says the family had to postponed the trip until it is safe to travel again.*

Since their reunion, Guy speaks to her parents (through a translator app) at the beginning and close of each day. “It’s like a fairy tale, and probably the best way an adoption story can go,” says Guy. “In many ways, it is overwhelming because I have such a loving family and mom and dad here, and now I have another family in Korea who want to be part of my life. It is like we are catching up for lost time. I feel very blessed.”

“I think the most important lesson I learned is not to make assumptions about people,” she says. “We never know what someone’s whole story is and what they are having to deal with. It’s been a life-changing lesson and experience.”

For Alexis Sánchez, discovering her Mexican, British, and Irish heritage and Native American roots bolstered her belief that we are all connected. “I’d always had this fascination with Native Americans, and for some reason identified with them, even though my dad was an immigrant from Mexico and my mom had British and Irish roots.” In the end, she says, DNA testing “is showing that we are all related, regardless of what side of the border you come from. We are all human beings who come from the same place. We should end our divides in this country and remember we are all in this together.”

*Since this was written, Guy met her parents in Korea.Mary Beth Sammons is an award-winning journalist and author of more than a dozen books including Living Life as a Thank You: The Transformative Power of Daily Gratitude and The Grateful Life: The Secret to Happiness, and the Science of Contentment. Her latest is Ancestry Quest: How Stories From the Past Can Heal the Future. She’s a cause-related communications consultant for numerous nonprofits and healthcare organizations including Five Keys Schools and Programs, Cristo Rey Network, Rush University Medical Center and more. She’s been the Bureau Chief for Crain’s Chicago Business, a features contributor for the Chicago Tribune, Family Circle, and Irish American News, and a daily news reporter for Daily Herald and AOL News. She lives in the suburbs of Chicago.

Tell us about your own NPE story to the extent you’re comfortable sharing it.

Seeing only 1% French was the red flag in my initial 23andMe DNA report. I was raised to believe I was significantly French and Norwegian. A few months later I took the Ancestry DNA test to compare from the same database that my sister had used. Those results produced the most shocking and traumatic day of my adult life. I had a half brother appear on my DNA results, and I didn’t have a brother as far as I knew. A trip over to my mother’s house an hour later produced more confusion, dismissal, and a host of secrets started to come out. Apparently, my mother and BF worked together in the 80s and had a one-night stand. My mother never told him she got pregnant and never saw him again, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. My mother still claims she didn’t know to this day. I think the most painful part of finding this out is how my mother, birth father, and newfound family have treated me in the aftermath.

How far into your own journey were you when you started your podcast?

Six weeks after I had my DNA shock I published my first trailer for the podcast calling for NPEs to share their story and giving a launch date of July 2019.

What compelled you to start the podcast?

The only comfort I had in those first few weeks of shock was reading other NPE stories on the forums online. I was nodding along with their written stories and scrolling for hours and hours. I would read aloud parts of other NPE stories to my husband at all hours of the day and night. I wanted to be able to listen to these stories as I walked around the house and did my errands. I knew I couldn’t continue to sit in front of a computer the rest of my life but I wanted to bring the comfort of finding others like me everywhere I went. I searched “NPE” on the podcast platforms and at the time did not find anything like it so decided I would produce my own. I realize now I could have used other terms and certainly found other podcasts with these stories on them, but with my limited knowledge at the time I was unable to find other podcasts.

Did you initially find NPEs very willing to speak out, or did you have to coax people to share?

I have only ever asked one guest. My first one I had to search for on reddit; I was too afraid to ask anyone on the DNA sites because I didn’t want to break the rules and get kicked off if they considered it “self-promotion.” After that I’ve had a pretty steady stream of people who reach out. I’m booked for 22 weeks out. I can only handle about one guest a week at this time because I do everything myself including scheduling, recording, and editing. I’m only a hobbyist—I’m literally learning everything as I go.

I believe stories benefit the teller as well as the audience. From your experience sharing people’s stories, can you talk a little about the ways the stories help the listeners, and the ways telling the stories helps the storytellers?

I know every story I record is sacred. Somebody out there is listening and nodding along in relief. A lurker, or perhaps a new NPE bingeing on stories all night long when they can’t sleep from the overwhelming grief they are experiencing. I get emails from listeners saying they have been listening or bingeing all night long to some of these episodes.

As for the storytellers, I wish I could explain the relief, giddiness, and joy I hear in their voices after I sign off. Some of what they tell me afterwards is pure gold, but of course off the record after I’ve stopped recording. They all sound like a weight has been lifted off their shoulders; sometimes they’re exhausted and yawning. I leave every recording session feeling filled with empathy and love for my fellow NPEs.

Why do you think storytelling and sharing is so important for NPEs?

I don’t think most NPEs receive true understanding and empathy from people. We get it. We can empathize with each other’s heartbreak, confusion, anger, and, sometimes, joy. Finding a community has been life-saving for me in this journey.

In one episode you mentioned that you sought therapy after your NPE discovery. Can you talk about how you chose a therapist and whether it was difficult to find someone who understood NPE issues?

I chose a therapist by pure panic. I literally had a panic attack at 3 a.m. a few weeks after my DNA discovery and thought I was going to be hospitalized. The next morning I called my clinic and got in with the first available intake appointment they had. No research went into it, and I happened to be paired with a cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) practitioner. I gained tools, but I don’t know what the “right” therapy is for anyone. I literally had to take it a moment at a time and fill my entire world with NPE everything, including reading articles on Severance Magazine, and joining online support groups.

You mentioned at the end of the episode in which you tell your own story that you’re not an expert. That’s something I feel strongly about—people, even other NPEs, trying to speak for everyone, wanting to be spokespersons for NPEs. I believe each of us is an expert on our own experience, but none of us can speak for everyone. Can you address that, whether you agree or disagree and why?

I don’t know anything. I joke with other NPEs that I’m waiting for someone to write the handbook on how to guide us through our DNA discovery. I get skeptical when I hear anyone opine on what I should do with my family members or what I should be feeling. Especially the online threads on forgiveness, or forgiveness-shaming as I like to call it. We can each only share our own personal experience, and I agree that none of us can speak for everyone. Sometimes we share experiences, and in that moment of understanding and empathy we can all nod along with each other. Those are the moments I like.

Have you seen many commonalities as you hear more and more stories? What issues resonate most?

Yes, the mothers. I hear the same mother being described in so many NPE stories. Self-centeredness sometimes appears in many of their stories. Actually many of the parents involved, including birth-fathers, have a thread of self-centeredness woven in. I realize this is rooted in shame and self-protection, but all the same it exists in so many NPEs stories.

What has surprised you in the stories you’ve heard?

I still get surprised every week. I actually have to take notes the whole time to keep up with all the family members and timeline. I have been surprised by the violence I find out about. It makes me a little sick with the rape, murder, and child abuse I have heard and read about. My heart breaks whenever I imagine an NPE as a helpless child in some of these circumstances.

Is there anything else you’d want readers to know about NPE Stories?

I merely consider myself an organizer for the podcast NPE Stories. It’s a safe space where NPEs can share audible versions of their stories. I may help them along with a few questions, but I try to leave room for them to fill the space in their own words. It’s not live, is completely editable, and can be anonymous if the guest prefers.

Are you seeking NPEs to tell their stories, and if so, how would you like them to contact you?

I have a rather long waitlist, but if someone doesn’t mind scheduling 6 months in advance, I go in the order of emails received. I record everyone’s story who is willing, and I can be reached at NPEstories@gmail.com for scheduling. I have a Facebook page, NPE Stories, and I’m on Instagram @lilymwood.Lily Wood, host of NPE Stories, is a 39-year-old stay-at-home mom of three children. When she and her husband, Graham,  were in their twenties, they started an app development company that’s since been acquired by Buzzfeed. In addition to raising her family and hosting the podcast, she volunteers with the American Red Cross as a disaster worker. 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.

Libby Copeland is an award-winning journalist, former Washington Post staff author and editor, and author of The Lost Family: How DNA Testing is Upending Who We Are, published in March 2020 by Abrams Press.How long did you spend researching and writing The Lost Family?

Altogether, about three years. I first wrote about Alice Collins Plebuch’s fascinating genetic detective story in The Washington Post in early 2017. The response to that story, which was hundreds of emails from other consumers sharing intimate and moving DNA testing stories, convinced me the topic needed to be a book, and I started researching for the proposal soon afterward. But the bulk of the work was done during 2018 and 2019. In The Lost Family, I revisit Alice’s story and tell it much more fully. I was able to travel to Washington State and spend time with her, as well as do historical research going back a hundred years to illuminate her family’s astonishing story. And as I follow her story, I also tell many other tales from people I Interviewed—wrenching, moving stories of how this technology is changing how we see ourselves and how we talk to one another, not to mention how we think about truth and the past.

What so intrigued you initially that you were willing to devote so much time and attention to this issue? Did you realize early on how complex the subject would be?

I was really intrigued by the idea that questions about genetic origins and family could lead individuals, families, and the culture at large to deep explorations of essential human questions about identity, what makes a family, and how we define ethnicity. The science was indeed quite complex, and so were the experiences of people affected by this technology. I got to interview a lot of genetic genealogists about their techniques and the history of the field, and to tour a DNA testing lab and speak with a number of scientists and historians about human genetics and autosomal DNA testing. But really, it was the deeply human stories that moved me most. The emails from readers and the stories I heard from other people I interviewed sometimes moved me to tears. There were stories of adoptees searching for family, of donor-conceived individuals defining and building relationships with half-siblings and donor fathers, of people discovering NPEs and struggling to incorporate that news with everything they’d known before. I was really interested in the idea that this technology was touching the most intimate parts of people’s lives and changing them forever. I was intrigued, too, by the idea that the past is not really over. It’s still very present in people’s lives, and DNA testing—and all that it can uncover—is prompting people to reassess what they thought they knew about things that happened 50, 60, 70 years ago.

Of all the seekers you spoke with, what story touched you most?

There are so many stories! It’s hard to pick one. There’s a very moving story in the book about a foundling who was left on a doorstep in the 1960s and adopted. Years later, she went looking for her biological family in order to know where she’d come from and to understand the context for having been given up. Her name is Jacqui. The genetic genealogist CeCe Moore helped Jacqui and suggested I interview her because she thought Jacqui’s story was so poignant and because she wanted people to see the range of ways that DNA testing stories can play out. Jacqui’s story is reflective of the fact that, as one mental health counselor put it to me, reunions aren’t always “happy” ones, even though those tend to be predominant in news stories.

Jacqui’s sisters on both sides have largely declined to have relationships with her; one set of sisters even decided they don’t believe that she’s their relative, despite clear evidence from DNA results. There are certainly happy reunion stories, and I write about a number of them in the book. But Jacqui’s story is equally important for people to read because she expresses her desire for connection with her siblings in a heartfelt, evocative, and relatable way. And yet, her truth is so threatening to her siblings that they decline and even deny the connection. There’s no easy solution to this kind of problem, and the complexity of it—and the way genetic relations who are essentially strangers can feel themselves to have hugely different interests from one another—illustrates how much we need to grapple with the legacy of what DNA testing is uncovering. I would argue there needs to be vastly better support for the millions of Americans trying to navigate these situations.

As you talk to people about DNA testing (consumers and potential consumers) what have you found to be most misunderstood?

I think if it hasn’t happened to you, it can be difficult to understand just how disorienting it is to discover that your own genetic origins are not what you long believed. From my interviews with people over months and sometimes years, I’ve come to understand that these revelations are not rapidly processed and incorporated into a person’s reality; indeed, the process of understanding a profound surprise go on for years, perhaps for a lifetime. A DNA surprise can pose questions about a consumer’s relationship with her parents, her understanding of her childhood, her sense of where she belongs, and her orientation on the world. These revelations can be traumatic, even if people are ultimately glad to know the truth about themselves. Those two things—experiencing pain as a result of a revelation yet not wishing to un-know it—might appear to be in conflict with one another, but they’re not.

On the other hand, the perspectives of those being sought out—I refer to them as “seekees”—are not told nearly as much, and are not as well understood. Those who don’t want contact with genetic kin and don’t want these revelations uncovered are much less likely to want to tell their stories. There can be happy reunions between parents and children or between siblings, but sometimes there’s a painful clash of interests. A seeker approaching her genetic father may be seen as threatening by that father, or by that father’s wife, or by the children he raised. There may be shame, guilt, and embarrassment on the part of the genetic father or mother. The decision not to have a relationship with a child or to even speak about having had a child may have been made fifty, sixty years ago, in far different and perhaps desperate circumstances. These are such sad and difficult situations for everyone. In a perfect world, there would be family mediators to help with those initial conversations, and mental health counselors to help everyone—those discovering family secrets, and the keepers of those family secrets. I am heartened to see a growing community of mental health professionals specializing in DNA surprises.

See our review of The Lost Family.BEFORE YOU GO…

Look on our home page for more articles about the search and reunion, 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.

Tell me a little bit about your background, how you came to be interested in creating DNAngels, and how you educated yourself about genetic genealogy?

18 years ago, my aunt researched our Tippa family roots back to 1804, when these ancestors first sailed to America from Germany. My father surprised me with a beautiful bound book of this research as a gift, along with the story of how our last name was Americanized to Tippy. I loved sharing this history with my brothers, nieces, and nephews, relishing the sense of identity and family unity it brought me. I guess this is where my interest in genealogy really began.

In the Fall of 2017, I decided to create a similar keepsake of family history for my grandchildren as a Christmas gift. I already had an account with Ancestry and became familiar with using their data to access all types of records, such as birth, death, census, military, and marriage. It occurred to me the Ancestry DNA tests would include specific information regarding the actual regions of one’s ancestors, so I thought this would be a nice addition to include in their family tree book.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

Six weeks later, my test results arrived. As someone who loves family research, it was exciting to see so many relatives listed from first to fourth cousins! Searching for familiar names on my father’s side, I was confused as not one could be found. I decided to call a few Tippy family members who I knew for certain had also tested. They logged into their Ancestry account but did not see my results either.

In the back of my mind, the distant memory of a comment made by my uncle surfaced. He once told me my daddy could not father children, so none of his kids were biologically his. I brushed the comment off at the time, as my brown eyes were certainly the same as my father’s, making me confident I was his. Suddenly, my world turned upside down as I feared there may be some truth to what my uncle said.

The barrage of emotions I felt is still indescribable. As my entire identity was now in question, my world imploded. If I was not a Tippy, then who was I? Who is my biological father? What about my medical history? Does he know I exist? The questions were endless.

Luckily, due to my decades of interest in genealogy, I quickly located a genealogy group that taught me the science side of DNA. I learned to read centimorgans, interpreting the probable relationship between matches. They taught me to create mirror trees, linking matches to find grandparents. Since then, I’ve learned through doing and also networking with other genealogists for new ways to approach the more complex cases. The personal story of my being an NPE (not parent expected) was unknowingly grooming me to help others.

After the initial shock over my NPE status, the frustrations began. My mother refused to admit the truth to me or answer questions about my biological father. I now know this is an all too common occurrence within the NPE community for a variety of reasons.

Ultimately, through my genealogical skills, I was successfully able to determine who my biological father was. However, he passed when I was only 13 years old. Thankfully, my biological father’s widow welcomed me with open arms, paving the way to meet my six new-found brothers and answering many questions about him as a person and my new medical history. My relationship with these six men is still forming as we get to know one another. Even though we biologically share a father, we are still strangers in a way.

You began DNAngels fairly recently. How many people have you helped thus far?

We have accepted more than 1,000 cases and solved more than 900, so our ratio is a solid 9 out of 10 cases solved. Included in those numbers are our current year totals. We have accepted 400 this year and solved 333 year to date.  Our goal is to find an answer for every client. However, there are times when someone may not have very many high matches, meaning we hit a brick wall. We must have at least a baseline in matches to even begin researching. We do ask many of our clients to upload their existing Ancestry DNA to three other “free” sites to maximize their matches. This often brings us a few new matches to consider. Other companies such as 23andMe can provide valuable insight but can also be cost prohibitive for some individuals. DNAngels hopes to eventually stock additional tests for our clients who may be financially struggling.

How do you describe the services you offer and what tools you use to help clients?

First, we provide a safe haven for those struggling with their NPE or adopted status. Once someone has been screened, we place them into our Facebook Client Room which is 100% closed to anyone other than our clients, angels, and support staff. Here, we encourage everyone to share their stories, offer support, and ask questions. It truly is a safe haven community where we all genuinely care for one another.

We are in the process of building a smaller, more intimate group for those who are truly hurting or have specific issues they are dealing with. DNAngels feels a strong sense of supporting our community and is ever evolving to meet those needs. We have a licensed clinical social worker (LCSW)—Mary McIntosh—on our team who can guide us should a client have an intense need. On occasion, we have found a client in urgent need of mental health services and she has intervened.

For tools, we use Ancestry as our foundation to begin our research. From there, we have a multitude of subscriptions to maximize our searches and provide contact information for potential family members to help clients prepare to contact biological families.

Do you help everyone who asks or do you have criteria?

We do have baseline requirements. Our requirements include the following: the  presumption the parents reside in the United States; that the client has tested with Ancestry; that the client is willing to take an active role in the research process; and that the generally client must have matches that meet a certain number of centimorgan matches—three matches of at least 200 centimorgans with at least one tree—our starting point for research. Unfortunately, if someone only has very distant matches, it doesn’t offer us much to research. However, we do advise them of ways to help increase their odds and return if they discover new matches.

How many are you able to help relative to demand?

We turn very few away from DNAngels. I think the majority that don’t qualify are from another country or have yet to test with Ancestry.

How do you work with clients? Your website notes that it’s an interactive process. Can you describe that—what do you expect from clients?

Our search angels are volunteers. Many have full time careers and families, so we ask our clients to respond in a reasonable, timely manner or let our angels know if they need a temporary pause for a variety of reasons. Our team is spread out all over the US, allowing us to be respectful of various time zones and work schedules. We try to match angels up relative to client schedules and share information as we verify facts. In certain cases, some angels may have special interests or talents in specific cases.

While not required, nothing makes us happier for clients to check in once they’ve contacted their biological family. We genuinely want to remain a part of their journey as they bond with new relatives. We’re also mindful that not every ending is happy and we welcome all clients to continue being a part of our NPE and adoption community.

What kind of questions do clients typically ask when they’re interested in your services?

The first question is typically how much our services cost. DNAngels is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, and we work entirely on a donation basis. We truly believe everyone deserves answers, regardless of their ability to pay. They also ask why we do what we do. Every member of the DNAngels team has been affected by DNA test results in some way, and we believe everyone deserves to have answers about their biological origins, regardless of their ability to pay. The work we do is so rewarding and also helps us all heal from what we’ve been through ourselves, and that’s what motivates us on a daily basis.

Are there reasons other than a lack of close matches that make some cases difficult to solve?

Definitely! The most common typical obstacle is when the biological mother is either deceased, forgets details, or refuses to divulge information and when there is more than one man who may be the potential father within a family. An example would be if a family had four sons relatively close in age and proximity to the mother during the time of conception and only 1-2 cousin matches are showing. Sometimes you need additional tests to confirm the biological father or siblings. We also commonly find a biological father may turn out to be an NPE as well, making the matches even more difficult to read. It is not uncommon for a cold case to have either multi-generational NPEs or the biological parent is a first-degree immigrant and records are slim and matches are few.

Are you ever able to find parents based on 4^th cousin matches or more distant?

Yes, we can. If there are really good trees and multiple matches at the 4^th cousin level, with excellent trees. We have special angels that can solve those. Laura is one. She is our lead angel and solves more than 50% of all cases at DNAngels.

In what ways do you provide support to your clients?

We understand that this is often a difficult time, and we never let our clients walk this journey alone. Our angel team is with the clients every step of the way, and providing an answer is just the beginning. We have a private client group on Facebook that is exclusive to our clients, where they can share their experience and support one another. We also offer 2 private support groups for our clients or anyone searching or in need of support. Our groups are DNAngels Search & Support, and Adoption Search & Support by DNAngels.

In what ways do they most need support? What are the most common issues you see?

Every client is different. Some are elated to finally find answers, while many have just had the shock of their lives and are devastated by this news. While family and friends often try their best to be supportive, they’re not able to understand how this discovery affects so many aspects of their lives. Just knowing that they’re not alone, and that every one of their feelings are valid, is so important during this difficult time. In addition, the LCSW on our angel team offers private sessions with our clients at no cost. We also have a pastor who is available for clients who need spiritual support.

Many of our adopted clients have grown up knowing they were adopted, so I would have to say the NPE community’s most common emotional need is overcoming the shock of finding out their identity isn’t really what they thought. This affects each person differently. Some people take it in stride; others it shakes to their very core. Many feel anger over being lied to, while others discover hurtful secrets and must work through this. Again, this is why we stress staying active within our community. Every person has something in common with another, and we don’t ever want our clients to feel alone.

Do the angels ever act as intermediaries?

We strongly encourage our clients to make contact with their biological family, but we review this on a case by case basis and will support the individual to the best of our ability.

Do you advise clients about how to make contact?

Absolutely! Making that first phone call or writing that first letter can be a daunting task. We offer support and guidance every step of the way and are there for the client regardless of the outcome.

What’s the rough breakdown of your clients by adoptees, NPEs, and donor-conceived people, and has that changed over time?

The majority of our clients are NPE, I’d say roughly 60%. Adoptees account for the majority of the remaining 40%, with only a handful of donor-conceived individuals needing ours services this year.

Are you looking for additional volunteers? If so, what criteria are there to be a DNAngel?

As we grow, we do look for additional volunteers. We are very selective with our angels and accept new volunteers on an as needed basis, and, occasionally, if someone really wows us with their passion and commitment. Not only do we require certain genealogical skills, we also have a set methodology we use for consistency. Angels also must work well with our team, and if they have a unique skill or passion, we try to incorporate it into our research.

Our team also consists of individuals who do screening, fundraising, web development, graphics, content writing, research, and provide emotional support, as well as several other functions. We value the many talents of our volunteers to help our vast community and meet a multitude of needs.

What else would you want readers to know or understand about DNAngels?

The overwhelming necessity for NPEs and adoptees to know where their biological roots originate is deeper than most can ever understand. We are committed to helping these individuals find their answers and offer dedicated support throughout their journey. We never require payment to accept a case, as we feel this is a basic human right for each person to know their biological roots. However, the resources required to sustain these efforts cost thousands of dollars each year. Eventually, as demand increases, we hope to support a very small staff for continuity in addition to meeting the cost of our yearly subscriptions, software, additional DNA tests, training opportunities for our volunteers, website maintenance, and office supplies.

Providing Additional Support

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

DNAngels

5920 Giant City Road, Unit A, Carbondale, IL 62902

Info@dnangels.org

Follow on Twitter @DNAngels4, on Instagram @DNAngelsorg, and on Facebook. BEFORE YOU GO…

Look on our home page https://severancemag.comfor more articles about the search and reunion, 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 tobkjax@icloud.com
• Tell us your stories. See guidelines athttps://severancemag.com/submission-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 athttps://www.facebook.com/groups/402792990448461
• And like us on Facebook athttps://www.facebook.com/severancemag and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @Severancemag

By Jodi Klugman-Rabb, LMFTLife changing events such as grief and trauma have a way of changing relationships, too. Discovering a DNA surprise known as non-paternal event or not parent expected (NPE)—such as an adoption not previously disclosed, donor conception, or misattributed or falsified paternity—has been shown to have serious effects on family relationships, often pitting families against one another as secrets are uncovered and motives are questioned. The prevalence of commercial DNA testing in the last ten years has made possible the revelation of these secrets and contributed to a surge in grief, identity crises, and conflicts within families. Psychotherapy is catching up to this phenomenon, poised to be a source of support and skill building as clinicians gain training on the unique constellation of conditions these discoveries present. However, recently I heard this play out in the worst way imaginable on a podcast I never listen to. It was forwarded to me by a shocked friend who wondered what my response would be given my own experience and expertise on the subject.

Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality well-known for her “no nonsense” style, per her marketing. She’s been dispensing advice in a sensational manner for decades, touting her ability to save marriages. But surprisingly, her professional help is delivered in a style akin to that of Gordon Ramsey or Simon Cowell. The last time I listened to anything from Dr. Laura I was in college 20 years ago; it was a curious foray with a friend into one of her local presentations. We were intrigued by her “tell it like it is” style, which, at the time, didn’t seem bullying or hostile. This episode, however, is shockingly abusive and appallingly unprofessional, reflecting poorly on the mental health care field.

In an episode of her podcast “Call of the Day” that aired July 7, 2020, Dr. Laura took a call from Torri, who stated she was unsure how to carry on a relationship with her mom after she discovered her NPE status in the fall of 2019. Before Torrie had spoken more than three sentences to describe her problem, Dr. Laura shut her down with rude, demeaning assumptions about the case and commentary about her as a person, telling Torrie “I would rather smack you across the head than anything else right now, you ungrateful little twit.” It was difficult to listen to this five-minute podcast, let alone imagine how Torri felt after hanging up.

There are many stereotypes of therapists, and there are many types of therapists spanning the spectrum of good vs. bad. I’m a marriage and family therapist (LMFT) licensed by the State of California and I have also discovered my own NPE status, also now being referred to as “not parent expected,” an attempt to soften the title. Even if I weren’t able to relate to this life-changing experience Torri has had, I still could have responded as a compassionate and ethical clinician, something Dr. Laura didn’t do. Unfortunately, Torri is not protected by the traditional terms of the therapeutic relationship because she willingly gave up that privilege when she applied to be a caller on the show. Worse, she may never feel safe to seek professional mental health help again because she, like others, may mistake her experience with Dr. Laura for real therapy.

The ethical obligations of practitioners in the mental health field exist to protect consumers from ill-trained and harmful clinicians, the worst example of which is the reckless sort of abuse presented as help from Dr. Laura, who’s listed as an licensed marriage and family therapist in various websites but who doesn’t list the licensing state. Rather than displaying a professional demeanor consistent with the ethics of our field, Dr. Laura’s unbelievable behavior toward Torri is equivalent to the sort of disgust with which family members often treat NPEs, using shame, extreme defensiveness, and threats to protect their secrets. I can imagine if Torri had been allowed to speak, she might have described a situation where her mom responded as Dr. Laura did, confusing her about her rights and the validity of her feelings, which triggered her need for advice to begin with. The reason for this reaction from the mothers of NPEs is a narcissistic shame many of them feel for offending cultural or religious dictates, especially if their pregnancies were the result of sexual assaults. What was confusing was why Dr. Laura reacted with such hostility; did the severity of her reaction suggest she was hiding something herself?

Wikipedia suggests that before her mother’s death, Dr. Laura had been estranged from her for 18 to 20 years. If true, it might help explain her unforgivable lashing out at Torri. Could she have been projecting her own issues onto a caller and used them to act out her own frustrations about unresolved personal issues?

I discovered my own NPE story in 2017 and it has played out in both good and bad ways, a fact I have been very forthcoming about in my journey. I utilized my professional knowledge to build a first of its kind curriculum especially for the DNA discovery population, but as a therapist I didn’t need the personal experience with it in order to access my compassion and ethical training. I use my personal experience to help train other clinicians on how to combine skills to appropriately treat this unique population—an approach I call Parental Identity Discovery™. 

The overwhelming majority of therapists are skilled, ethical, supportive professionals who could never imagine harming a person the way Dr. Laura harmed Torri.

NPEs and adoptees can learn how to make sense of their overwhelming feelings and their grief and discover how to rebuild their identities. They can learn communication skills to work with family dynamics and create a plan of action as their journeys continue. There will be people to support them—new and existing family as well as friends they haven’t met in person but who are there in support groups to listen and lift them up.

If you or someone you know has discovered a surprise DNA, help is available. If your life has changed, please seek help and be assured you are valued. See the sidebar for sources for help in coping with DNA discoveries.Jodi Klugman-Rabb, LMFT, is a licensed marriage and family therapist and licensed professional counselor in California. She sees NPEs in person in her private practice and via teletherapy throughout the state. She also offers virtual coaching for those living outside California, including a virtual support group for NPEs. She cohosts a podcast, Sex, Lies & The Truth, for NPEs and their families so they can feel connected to a larger community and learn about themselves as they go. In her Finding Family blog on Psychology Today, she writes about the unique aspects of being an NPE—what she now calls Parental Identity Discovery,™  the term she uses to title her certificate curriculum.RESOURCES

Adoptees, NPEs, Donor Conceived & Other Genetic Identity Seekers

Adoptees Only: Found/Reunion The Next Chapter

DNA NPE Fellowship 

Jodi Klugman-Rabb, LMFT

NPE Only: After the Discovery

Right To Know 

Severance MagazineBEFORE YOU GO…

Look on our home page https://severancemag.comfor more articles about the NPE experience

• Please leave a comment below and share your thoughts.
• Let us know what you want to see in Severance. Send a message tobkjax@icloud.com
• Tell us your stories. See guidelines athttps://severancemag.com/submission-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 athttps://www.facebook.com/groups/402792990448461
• And like us on Facebook athttps://www.facebook.com/severancemag and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @Severancemag

Tell us little about yourself apart from your adoption journey and your podcast/genetic genealogy work?

I am a wife and mother of two. I’m currently on my fifth career. I made my living as an actress/singer for most of my life. That slowed down in my forties, so, needing a creative outlet, I went to beauty school and got a cosmetology license. I’d always been a genealogy hobbyist, but the advent of direct-to-consumer DNA testing changed my world and heralded a whole new skill set.

And the impossible question: Can you summarize your own adoption journey? 

I always knew I was adopted and was always implicitly aware of the general mismatch between me and my adoptive family. To be clear, that doesn’t mean I didn’t love and appreciate them. It means I spent my life feeling like I was “other” than those around me, and it was emphasized by the general consensus that I should try harder to blend in and not be my own person. I found my biological mother in my early twenties and it was quite uneventful and stress free. My parents were supportive of this effort and even reached out to my biological mother in solidarity.

Years later, after having my own children, I realized I needed to complete my search and began an arduous and often shocking journey into identifying my paternal family. It became an obsession. As has always been my way, if those around me told me that something was impossible, I leaned in to prove otherwise. Being hypervigilant is a common thread among adoptees and it has pretty much dominated my motivations in life. (For the full story, please listen to the first 20 or so episodes of my podcast “CutOff Genes.” Caveat: Genetic genealogy is relatively new and always evolving, and the testing sites update their platforms regularly. That said, some of the earlier episodes may contain content that’s no longer relevant.)

Can you describe your services as a genetic genealogist?

I work mostly with adoptees, donor-conceived individuals, and NPEs (not parent expected). They must take a DNA test first, and I usually insist on Ancestry.com because of the size of its database and the superior tree building and research capabilities. If/when I identify who they are looking for, I will usually ask them to write a letter to said family member that I then send. I almost always ask the client to write a letter briefly summarizing their life and their reason for reaching out.

Because of my personal experience I feel that I add an extra level of insight and understanding for all parties involved in the adoption triad.

How did your own experience influence your desire to help people find their families?

My experience taught me that the treatment of adoptees is (mostly) cruel, archaic, and exclusive. My desire is to help as many people as I can and fight for equality for all humans.

When you became interested, how did you go about training yourself to be able to use DNA to find families?

I learned in the trenches, if you will. In my own case, circumstances arose that established that the only way I was going to find my own truth was through DNA. There were so many resources online, as well as search angels willing to help and talk me through it. By the time I had my answer, I had a solid foundation in the technique. From there I spent a couple of years as a search angel, volunteering my time to find answers for other adoptees. Interestingly, my first few cases were for distant DNA cousins to me. In every case, I was able to solve the mystery, sometimes confirming how they are connected to me.  About a year and a half ago, I reached out to a Los Angeles-based private investigator, Jay Rosenzweig, whose company Birthparentfinder.com specializes in finding birth family. He’d used DNA, but not to the full extent and with the capabilities I have. He brought me on and I was soon able to prove that genetic genealogy was vital to the success of a search company. I’ve solved more than 70 cases for that company as well as more than 100 independently in the four years since starting this work.

To what extent, if any, do you advise or counsel clients or potential clients about the process, perhaps to manage expectations or prepare them for any emotional repercussions?

This is so important to me. As I said before, I think my insight is what sets me apart from a lot of other searchers. My experience has taught me to reserve judgment for biological families who have a tendency toward rejection. It’s important to remember that trauma was involved for the parent in addition to the trauma that’s inherent in being an adoptee. Much of the time, biological mothers experienced something that they thought must be unique to them. I often counsel by recommending reading material (such as The Girls Who Went Away) to begin the healing and help them understand they don’t need to feel the shame that was instilled in them so many years ago.

I also counsel my clients to expect the worst but hope for the best. Every case is its own entity. Often, time is needed for individuals to process this revelation—weeks, months, or years. It’s not for me to force reunion or “out” anyone. At the same time, I believe that the other children of biological parents (if adults) are not off limits as a last resort. They deserve to know that they have unknown family as well.

What are some of the most common issues clients voice and how do you help them?

I often hear “I just want them to love me.” That’s not a healthy attitude, though understandable. It’s important to realize that it’s out of the ordinary for a stranger to love another stranger simply because there’s a genetic connection. Love is certainly something that can develop, but should never be expected. Clients need to establish exactly what their expectations are and keep them low. Anything beyond that is a bonus. For me, the most important thing is for everyone to know their origins and gain knowledge of why they exist.

Do you advise them about how to make contact? What strategies do you recommend?

My PI boss has a different strategy than I do. He believes that no adoptee should reach out personally without an intermediary. He also tends to cold call people. He’s very successful at this technique, but I’m generally not comfortable doing it myself. If that’s what the client wants, I usually have Jay do it. The first time I was hung up on by a biological mother, I really took it personally and it took the wind out of my sails. I realized that sometimes you only get one chance to reach out, and if it doesn’t go well the door may be closed for good. I recommend snail mail (especially when reaching out to older biological family). As I said before, I ask clients to write a heartfelt letter introducing themselves, providing some info about their lives and what their goals are in this endeavor. It’s important that they express that they are no threat to any family and are willing to allow the contact to call the shots. Including a photo is often a good idea as it puts a face to this human that you are related to. I usually write a cover letter introducing myself and giving a brief explanation of how I arrived at my conclusion. I always offer to elaborate by phone if further explanation is required.

Under what circumstances do you act as an intermediary? 

If that is what the client requires, I will always do so. It’s part of the service. Sometimes people (on both sides) are not comfortable with a stranger being involved. I always present arguments for both sides and let the client determine what is best. Sometimes I learn facts about the biological family that inform me as to what may be the best way to proceed. Incidentally, that earlier case where the mother hung up on me was salvaged. I called her back immediately and left a voice mail telling her that her daughter had just wanted to thank her. She called back the next day and apologized. I acted as an intermediary for several months in that case. That particular mother was terrified of the rest of her family finding out, and her husband did not want their adult kids to know. Yes, I feel that that is an outrageous expectation for any man to put on his wife, but I digress. Anyway, a few months later, the mother was still sending messages through me and I had to tell her that I simply couldn’t work for them for the rest of my life. I explained to her that her behavior was probably making her daughter experience a second rejection, and the daughter was well aware of how to contact her directly if she so desired.  She understood and they began talking directly.

In cases in which you’re not able to locate birthparent, are there similar challenges that block success? Are there issues other than a lack of close matches?

Yes!  The biggest challenge—and the most difficult to explain to clients when I’m at a roadblock—is that if there is pedigree collapse, endogamy, or simply an NPE within a family, my job becomes exponentially more difficult. I take cases based upon the level of the matches, but it’s not uncommon to find out that those higher matches are also adopted or have a misattributed parentage event in their family that they themselves were not aware of. I can usually build a tree based on a match tree with just a couple of names in it, but if I build a substantial tree by using traditional genealogy methods and I am unable to connect that tree to any of the other matches, that match is no longer helpful.

Are most clients for whom you’ve found family ultimately glad they searched or are there some who have regrets? 

As far as I know, no one has had regrets. I think this has to do with managing your expectations. Most people realize that just knowing the facts makes it worthwhile. I know, for me, I feel more connected to the earth as a result of knowing.

Do clients follow up with you—that is, do they tell you about their reunions?

Yes! Some of them have been interviewed on my podcast.

Do you work independently in addition to with an agency? 

I work independently if that’s how someone has reached out to me. I actually prefer to work with the agency because I don’t enjoy the sales aspect of a business. But if someone is a listener or a reader and they reach out directly I can work directly with them.

What advice do you have for people who are unable to avail themselves of professional services? What tools or resources might they find most helpful? 

There are several Facebook groups (DNA Detectives, Search Squad) that have members who are search angels. That’s where I learned everything I know now. Blaine Bettinger has some great books and, of course, my podcast is a great, if I do say so myself, especially for newbies.

What mistakes, if any, do people often make when searching for family on their own?

In my opinion, the biggest mistake (and I made it myself) is to lead with the fact that you are adopted, NPE, or donor conceived. This often sends up red flags for people who don’t want to throw a relative under the bus, even if they have no idea how they are related to you. Also, asking matches if they know someone who gave up a baby is rarely effective. These are usually deep secrets within families, and anyone beyond a parent or sibling would likely not be privy to such information. I think the best approach is to mention that you’re trying to understand your DNA and build your family tree. Asking them to share the names of all four of their grandparents and their birth dates and locations is the most effective way to build a tree for them.

When and why did you decide to start the “Cutoff Genes” podcast?

Oh boy. Here we go. Four years ago there was an event within my adoptive family that was traumatic and resulted in even more trauma for me and my immediate family. This event brought to the forefront the narrative of “the ungrateful adoptee” and how that lie can be used to manipulate a situation to benefit those who use it against an adoptee. For legal reasons I can’t really go into any more detail. Suffice it to say that I was traumatized to a level that some days I didn’t think I would be able to go on. I knew I had to do something to take me out of my thoughts and provide a service for others like me. A podcast was the most obvious choice for me. I had wanted to do it for a while, but the thought of taking on something so time consuming was overwhelming, and I have terrible attention deficit disorder. Anyway, when all of this was eating at my life, I realized that I had nothing to lose by putting something out there, at the same time using my background as a performer to satiate my creativity and feel like something positive could come from the trauma. I connected with my old friend Richard Castle and, originally, my friend Renee Colvert, who has her own successful podcast (“Can I Pet Your Dog?”). The result was this thing that people come for the info, but stay for the relationships and rapport. We’ve just released our 102^nd episode.

What do you love most about doing the podcast?

I love having a gab fest with Richard (my producer and co-host). Rich is a musician and songwriter, so he gets to be the voice of the listener. He asks me questions that probably a lot of the listeners are thinking as well. Also, I adore our listeners!  We have a Facebook group that’s very active and lots of friendships have formed there. We very much have a conversation with our listeners, and they often provide content and insight for the show.

What’s surprised you as you’ve done these shows? 

Rich and I tend to go off on tangents. Sometimes it’s a classic television or musical theater riff—we met doing a production of “My Fair Lady” almost 35 years ago—and other times we get into a “pun-fest.” We crack ourselves up and, what was surprising to us both, was that our listeners seem to love that part of the show as well. This is somewhat serious subject matter, and we often talk about unimaginable pain. We do our best to balance the mood. I’m very much a fan of alternative comedy and I wanted to model the feel of “CutOff Genes” on of some of my favorite comedy podcasts. I always say “I’ll have to laugh or I’ll cry.”

What kind of feedback do you get? 

All kinds!  When I first started the podcast, I was clear that I am not a scientist and it’s entirely possible that I may misspeak. I sometimes cringe when people describe me as an expert, because there are people within the science community and the science behind DNA that probably take exception to that. The fact is, I am not a scientist, but I’m proud to say I am very good at what I do. I always encourage listeners to reach out with corrections or clarifications, and they do not disappoint!

Follow the podcast on Twitter @cutoffgenespod, and join its private Facebook group.

By B.K. JacksonIf keeping a secret—or being a secret—feels detrimental to your physical or mental health, it’s not your imagination. The expression “toxic secrets” is neither hyperbole nor a figure of speech. Researchers increasingly are learning that secrets place a profound burden on mental and physical health.

It appears it’s neither the secret itself nor the act of concealing it in social situations that contributes to the burden, but rather it’s the psychic energy secrecy requires. It’s a pain that plays out in private. Researchers at Columbia University who have been studying the effect of secrets found that the degree to which secrets affect well-being is related to the frequency with which the mind wanders to them, suggesting that it’s the ruminating about secrets that’s damaging. This was true regardless of the significance or importance of the secret. Any secret that’s preoccupying—frequently turned over and over in the mind—researchers discovered, diminishes wellbeing. In other words, it’s not keeping secrets that hurts, according to Michael Slepian, PHD, lead researcher of the Columbia studies, “it’s having them.”

And what most causes people to obsess about their secrets? In a study called “Shame, Guilt, and Secrets on the Mind,” published in the journal Emotion, Slepian* and his colleagues surveyed 1,000 participants about feelings of shame and guilt associated with their secrets. They also asked survey respondents how often they thought about and concealed their secrets each day in the prior month. Perhaps surprisingly, study participants spent less time concealing than they did dwelling on their secrets, and it was shame rather than guilt that caused the greatest amount of daydreaming about secrets.

When it comes to family secrets brought to light by DNA testing, there may be shame on both sides of the equation—on the secret keeper and the secret discoverer. And the secret discoverer often is pressed to become a secret keeper. NPEs who have uncovered family secrets through DNA tests frequently feel consumed and shamed by those secrets, making them particularly vulnerable to the ill-effects of secrecy. Many of us have been asked, or feel obligated, to keep secrets surrounding our conception. In most cases, those who ask us to keep secrets do so out of shame about actions they took many years ago and fear that exposure of those actions will deepen their shame and bring it into the light. And those who feel obligated not to expose another’s shame often have been made to feel shame themselves. Further, feelings of worthlessness, smallness, and powerlessness and a history of a traumatic experience, say researchers, make people more likely to feel shame. It’s a perfect storm for NPEs, pointing to the need to address the harm that may be associated with secrecy.

“It hurts to keep secrets,” Slepian writes in Scientific American. “Secrecy is associated with lower-well-being, worse heath, and less satisfying relationships. Research has linked secrecy to increased anxiety, depression, symptoms of poor health, and even the more rapid progression of disease,” he continues. In addition, attention to one’s secret can cause diminished attention where it’s needed, such as on one’s work tasks, resulting in reduced efficiency and performance. And a study by Ahmet Uysal and Qian Lu found that self-concealment is associated with chronic and acute pain.

It’s not surprising, Slepian concludes, that it’s exhausting to maintain secrecy. He and his colleagues looked at the way in which secrets are experienced as physical burdens and how that affect perception of physical tasks. They found that people preoccupied with secrets feel as if they’re being weighed down. They perceive hills to be higher and distances to be longer than they are. In another study, his team looked at the link between secrets and fatigue. “Thinking of one’s secrecy serves as a reminder that the secret conflicts with one’s social goals, highlights one’s social isolation with regard to the secret, and results in an unpleasant subjective experience of fatigue,” they concluded. “Thus, secrecy—the commitment to conceal information from others—can be fatiguing even during moments when one is not engaging in active concealment.” Much of that fatigue, they found, was linked with social isolation.

And ruminating about secrets, Slepian adds, providers a constant reminder of one’s complicity in secrecy, causing the secret holder to feel disingenuous, inauthentic, and socially isolated.

It’s probably safe to say there’s a cost both to keeping and revealing secrets. When pondering whether to keep a secret concerning your origins, a strong argument is that it’s your story to tell. Keeping it to yourself not only prevents you from feeling authentically yourself, but also may diminish your self-esteem. Living inauthentically is associated with reduced life satisfaction. A second compelling argument is that not telling may be damaging to your health. Relieving yourself of the burden of the secret is likely to cause you to ruminate on it less, thus relieving the strain.

If you’re weighing whether to reveal a secret or are debating with yourself about whether you’re entitled to reveal it, it’s important to consider the effect it’s having on your physical and emotional health. But while sharing one’s secrets may be a boon to mental and physical well-being, it’s also necessary to be mindful of, and work to mitigate, the potential damage revelation of secrets can cause. It requires planning and sensitivity to avoid rupturing relationships—a consequence that can have still further repercussions to your mental and physical health—and you might benefit from the help of a counselor before broadly revealing your secret.

In a future article, we’ll look at experts’ advice about deciding when and how to reveal secrets and strategies for reducing harm. In the meantime, however, consider that even disclosing to one trusted individual may relieve you of the burden of your secret, according to Slepian’s research. “Confiding a secret,” he explained in Scientific American, “can feel cathartic and relieving. But mere catharsis is not enough. When confiding a secret, what is actually helpful is the conversation that follows. People report that when sharing a secret with another person, they often receive emotional support, useful guidance, and helpful advice.” It just takes that one conversation, he insists, to ease your mind. Consider first the consequences of sharing to even one person, and if you do share, be sure it’s to someone you believe will be discreet, understanding, and supportive.

Writing on MentalHelp.net, Allan Schwartz, PhD, LCSW, says, “I’ve always maintained that there are few secrets that are so dangerous that they cannot stand being brought out into the open, where they suddenly lose the evil and dark air that once surrounded them.”

*Learn more about research by Slepian and his colleagues at www.keepingsecrets.org. Take a brief survey in order to access the research.

Read more about secrets here.

By B.K. JacksonThe 1953 discovery of DNA’s double helix and the 2003 completion of the Human Genome Project not only have transformed medicine but also have led to the advent of direct-to-consumer DNA testing, an unforeseen consequence of which has been that many people who test unearth long-buried family secrets.

I’m one of them. When I was an infant, my parents divorced and my mother disappeared without a trace, so I’m well acquainted with the yearning for an unknown parent. I felt abandoned anew when, 50 years later, a test revealed that I’ve never known either of my genetic parents—that my father wasn’t my father. At the same time, I discovered I’m Italian, not Russian; my family was Catholic, not Jewish; and my fear of the cancers rampant in my father’s family was unfounded.

My story—at least the second chapter—isn’t unique. A 2019 PEW Research Center survey found that 27% of home DNA test users discover unknown close relatives. Of these, those whose tests reveal misattributed parentage are known as NPEs—a name referring to the circumstances of conception—a non-paternity event or not-parent-expected.

These surprising results and their ripple effects illustrate what Libby Copeland, in her new book on the subject, The Lost Family, calls the “profound and disruptive power of DNA testing.”

Devastated to learn they have no genetic connection to their kin, many NPEs, like adoptees, become desperate to identify and contact their biological families. Some are welcomed into the fold, while others are ignored or spurned. Some, shockingly, are rejected even by the families in which they were raised.

This NPE experience, often hidden in the dark and shrouded in silence, must be brought into the light and made the subject of conversation. Why is this important? Because we can extrapolate from adoption research that identity confusion, stress, and rejection can render NPEs, like adoptees, vulnerable to potentially severe emotional turmoil and increased risks for depression, addiction, and other behavioral health issues. Discussion will bring much-needed attention to the dearth of resources and trained professionals needed to help them cope. And further, because with greater public awareness of the emotional impact, families—rather than close the door on NPEs—might be better able to respond empathetically and, thus, mitigate trauma.

When we receive unexpected DNA results, boughs of our family trees break. Our heritage evaporates. We’re not who we thought we were and we don’t know where we come from. We grieve for the families we may never know, yet this grief goes unacknowledged, as if it isn’t legitimate.

Like adoptees, we may suffer from genealogical bewilderment, a condition described in 1952 by psychiatrist E. Wellish as the alienation resulting from being disconnected from biological relatives. A relationship to one’s genealogy, he said, is “an inalienable and entitled right of every person.” The right to know one’s parents is also recognized as fundamental by the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child. 

And yet, about our new DNA status we’re routinely asked: What difference does it make?

That roughly 30 million people have taken DNA tests to discover their heritage and millions more are obsessed with genealogy is proof that people care—deeply—about where they come from. If blood ties didn’t matter, parents would take home a random infant from the nursery; instead they choose the newborn who carries their genes. But NPEs are expected not to care about DNA.

Adding to the trauma of shattered identity may be the pain of rejection. Because most NPEs are born of affairs or donor conceptions, when they reach out to biological family members they may expose long-guarded secrets and repressed shame. Fathers may reject their offspring for fear they’ll expose their infidelities or donor status, and siblings may want nothing to do with children conceived under these circumstances. But NPEs didn’t choose how they came into the world.

It’s true that people on the other end of this experience—those approached out of the blue by strangers—may also feel blindsided. It’s understandable, but is it an excuse to deprive people of their birthright?

It raises a fundamental question about whose rights are paramount and what responsibilities come with creating a human being. Are individuals entitled to secrecy when secret keeping affects the wellbeing of others and denies their truth? When paternity is established at birth, fathers are morally and legally responsible for their children; to reject such responsibility is actionable and considered contemptible. But the passage of time gives men a pass to pretend their children don’t exist.

Before DNA tests became available, I discovered and was welcomed by six brothers and sisters—my mother’s children. When later, through a DNA test, I discovered I was an NPE, it took an agonizing 18 months to discover who my biological father was and learn he’d been survived by a son. I wrote to this half-brother, asking only if he’d share a photograph of our father, tell me about him, and advise me about any preventable risks for heritable diseases. This is all most NPEs want.

To some degree, I understand my brother’s disinterest and failure to reply. Unlike me, he had nothing at stake. Yet I wonder what it would have cost him to respond—how he could have been unmoved by my request. I find it hard to believe a grown man might be so disturbed by his father’s unfaithfulness that he’d reject a sister. Perhaps, like many, he erroneously believes DNA results are unreliable. But the science behind DNA testing is unassailable. And since I enclosed a photograph of myself, he couldn’t have failed to see an unmistakable resemblance. I know that likeness exists because I was lucky enough to find cousins willing to give me what my brother would not. Their eager embrace and kindliness were healing and lifechanging. Thanks to them, I saw a photograph of my father—my own face looking back at me. These cousins could have shut the door on me; instead they gave me the gift of my own truth.

It’s possible that the ball on what Copeland calls “the roulette wheel of some unexpected revelation” may land on you or someone close to you. If an unknown relative contacts you or your family, consider that if you’ve seen your father’s face, you can’t imagine what it means to her to never have had that opportunity. Consider, too, that she’s not responsible for the circumstances of her conception and is without shame or blame. Ask yourself, if the tables were turned, wouldn’t you feel as if you’d been sucker-punched? If you learned you had a father whose name and face you didn’t know, wouldn’t you want to find him? If your religion was no longer your religion and your ethnicity no longer what you believed it to be, wouldn’t you feel adrift? If happened to you, wouldn’t you hope your biological family would respond with empathy and grace?

This isn’t to say you owe her a relationship. But the only decent, compassionate response is to acknowledge your genetic connection and provide a medical history. It’s the least a human being should expect from a blood relative. Understand that DNA matters to her, as it does to everyone else.B.K. JacksonBEFORE YOU GO…

• Please leave a comment below and share your thoughts.
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• Tell us your stories. See guidelines at https://severancemag.com/submission-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 at https://www.facebook.com/groups/402792990448461
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Any surprise can be traumatic, but a DNA surprise raises one of life’s most fundamental questions: Who am I? Your very identity is made up of your memories, your shared stories, and experiences with family and friends. When you find out that something is not true, or not exactly true, it is a major shock to your emotional system.It is easy to tell yourself, “This is no big deal. I should be able to handle this.” But “handling something” is a process. And that process may involve feeling upset and expressing various emotions. Like any trauma, the emotional reactions can come in waves and when you least expect them. You and your family members both may minimize your experience by emphasizing you had good parents, you shouldn’t be upset, or even that you’re being selfish by looking for answers. I tell people that I don’t know what qualifies as an overreaction to news that changes your understanding of your world. Your reaction is not a sign of emotional weakness—it’s a sign that you are in touch with reality enough that you react when reality changes. I suggest you accept your reactions, your feelings, as being there. Accept that they are what you need to feel in the moment. There’s no need to try changing them—that doesn’t work anyway. You need to work through the process.There can be depression, with low mood and irritability, loss of appetite, difficulty sleeping, poor concentration, and an inability to focus on work. There might be anger. Part of what makes this kind of trauma so difficult is that you might think it’s not really that big of a deal—others have it worse. And it’s true, others have it worse. But trauma is not a contest—you can have all the emotions anyway. You are not weak.Yes. Sometimes you just can’t process everything at once and you will feel disoriented and unable to concentrate. The news can be so big that it’s like your circuits are overloaded.Yes. Research has shown for many years that stressful life events (both good stress and bad stress) have an impact on our health. It is important that you allow yourself to experience your emotions and not waste energy on fighting them. You might look at the Holmes-Rahe Stress Inventory.It’s important to accept our reactions as normal. The more we fight them or argue that there’s something wrong with us for reacting, the longer it will take to move forward, the longer it will take to heal. Journaling can be immensely helpful. Write down what you’re feeling, even if it seems extreme or overly dramatic. It isn’t. It’s the reality of what you are feeling in the moment. Meditation can be helpful, but if you can’t slow your mind down, that’s ok. Notice and accept that your mind is racing. If you’re able to exercise, that’s a great way of dealing with stress and clearing the mind. Reaching out to understanding friends is important. And there’s a large community online going through similar things. (Use the Resources tab on the Severance home page to find some of these.)I encourage people to move slowly in the process—think of yourself as writing a novel. What information do you need to make the characters more interesting, to make them sympathetic. Is there a way that you can make their behavior understandable? For example, a teenage girl that became pregnant in the past may not have been allowed much say in whether or not to keep the baby or put the child up for adoption. Going back even further in time, a single female may not have had the opportunity to earn a living wage and therefore couldn’t provide for a child. A father may not have known of a child’s existence. There are many more examples I can give. On the other hand, what you learn now becomes part of your story and, if you’re someone reading this, you’re likely the kind of person that wants to know your whole story. Being understanding and sympathetic toward others doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to experience your own emotions, though.

The most important thing is to take care of yourself. Ask yourself what you, yourself, need. Try to find a way to meet that need, but keep in mind you can’t control other people.

Therapy can be very helpful at any point in the process. A good therapist helps you reflect on who you are and who you want to be. Ultimately, you are the author of your story, no matter how many plot twists get added to that story. I would consider therapy necessary and would encourage you to seek help if you’re having symptoms of depression or trauma—low mood, irritability, sleep or appetite problems, inability to concentrate, relationship problems.Searching for answers can be all-consuming. We live in an age in which we can binge-watch on Netflix and learn the answer to a mystery on a television show within hours. When it comes to family mysteries, we have search engines, DNA, and genealogy services. There’s a lot we can learn quickly. But definitive answers can take a long time. Others may not understand our obsession—even others affected by the discovery of a family secret may not care like you do. It’s a very personal thing. It’s important to keep in mind that we can’t necessarily find answers quicker by working harder. As an example, I have spent two years searching for my grandfather’s birth parents. I found his likely father fairly quickly, but could find nothing on his mother. I gave up for a while and came back to the search and found I had earlier ruled out a group of people for some reason. This group has turned out to offer my best leads in my search. It’s important to take care of yourself. Meditate, exercise, sleep, stay in touch with your friends, get out of the house. All of these things will make your search more efficient. Taking care of yourself helps you think more clearly. All of these strategies are part of accepting our humanity, accepting that we don’t control how our bodies and minds react. This includes accepting that other people may be doing their best—we just don’t always know their stories, why they react the way they do. We need to take care of ourselves so we don’t lose ourselves in the process.Keep in mind that what you find in the search will trigger all kinds of emotions. You may find people who share DNA with you, but nothing else. A newfound relative may have no interest in a relationship, or on the other hand, may want more of your time and energy than you want to give. It’s a process, and you may not know what you want until you start finding answers to the secret, until you find these relatives. Don’t assume they’ll want the same things you do. Also, it’s important to keep asking yourself: “What is it I really want? What am I searching for? What values of mine will this search, and its possible answers, satisfy?”We are all ultimately seeking connection and belonging. Unfortunately, life is not clean. We don’t all fit into perfectly designed family trees. It’s estimated that 7% of Americans are adopted or in foster care. Add on top of that all the individuals who grew up in a “nuclear” family but were conceived outside of the marriage or through donors. That’s a huge percentage of us. It is important that we work to remove the stigma of this. We didn’t choose how we came into this world. It’s important that we not stigmatize ourselves. We are just as legitimate as anyone else.

We also need to keep in mind that we may be rejected by newfound biological parents. We need to keep our fantasies in check. These biological relatives are human beings, with strengths and with flaws, just like everyone else. Other people may not understand our need to search and they may have no desire to know the answers themselves. We need to accept that.

Greg Markway, PhD, is a clinical psychologist in St. Louis, Missouri. He became interested in genetic genealogy while searching for the roots of his grandfather, who came to Missouri from New York on an orphan train in 1896.

Read more about shock and trauma related to DNA surprises here and here, and return to the home page for more articles about genetic identity.

BEFORE YOU GO…

• 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 at https://severancemag.com/submission-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 at https://www.facebook.com/groups/402792990448461
• And like us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/severancemag and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @Severancemag

Learning about family secrets that fracture your sense of identity can be profoundly shocking and destabilizing. If you’ve experienced a powerful emotional blow that’s left you feeling bruised, battered, and off balance, though you may not recognize it as such, what you’re experiencing is trauma. If you’ve been told or you suspect you’re overacting, be assured that feeling traumatized is a completely normal response to an exceedingly distressing event. While many around you may not understand or take seriously your feelings and expect you to brush it off and get over it—trauma isn’t something you just get over. It needs to be acknowledged and addressed, and it may be useful or even necessary to seek professional help that will allow you to move forward with less distress and integrate the experience into your life

Jamie Marich, PhD, a clinical trauma specialist, talks with us about recognizing trauma, understanding its consequences, and helpful strategies. She’s founder of the Institute for Creative Mindfulness and the author of seven books on trauma healing and recovery. Among the approaches she uses with clients are EMDR therapy, mindfulness, yoga, dance, reiki, and expressive arts. She’s led trauma recovery retreats at the Kripalu School for Yoga & Health in Massachusetts’ Berkshire Mountains and at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California. Her most recent book, published this year, is Process Not Perfection: Expressive Arts Solutions for Trauma Recovery.Trauma comes from the Greek word meaning wound, and in its most general sense, trauma means any unhealed wound. These wounds can be physical, emotional, social, sexual, spiritual. So yes, the revelations of these secrets can certainly be wounding to the individual hearing them, and if they do not receive the proper support and/or treatment to heal the wound, the impact can fester. We are increasingly understanding that trauma is a subjective experience, so what may be traumatic or a shock on the system to one person may be rather innocuous to another person. So it’s important that we validate the individual’s experience of the wounding and address accordingly.I don’t use the term shock as much as I use the word trauma, and yes, it’s plentiful. Just take a look at the Adverse Childhood Experiences Study (ACE Study) which is popular for the most cursory example of this.The symptoms can manifest differently for different folks. You may notice that your emotions are clouding your intellectual abilities, which can make it hard to focus at work, school, in life. You may notice extreme displays of emotion, like tears you feel will never stop, or, on the other end of the spectrum, a sense of emotional shutdown and numbness. Sometimes people go into high alert over what else could happen and may have a hard time falling asleep. Some people may sleep excessively. Dissociation or feeling checked out or otherwise “zoned out” can also be a part of this phenomenon.Fun fact: Rollo May published this and is generally credited with the teaching, not Viktor Frankl, although Frankl was May’s friend and contemporary. Most people recognize the Viktor Frankl name and connection more.

Anything that helps you to expand that space is always a good idea. For many it’s taking one breath or several, for others it’s taking a walk, exercising, making art, or engaging in other practices that help them be more mindful and manage stress. Mindfulness practice expands the space of which May and Frankl speak. Embodied practices can also do the same thing for people. Sometimes, though, the impact of unhealed trauma/stress can make it difficult to even access the practices, which is where professional therapeutic interventions may be needed and can help.Yes is the short answer. As long as the practices are taught in a way that meets the person where they are and do not become one more way that the person beats up on themselves. For instance, some perfectionists feel they have to do meditation “perfectly” and this defeats the purpose.Attending to the wounding (trauma) that can result from shocking family information is similar to what is needed after any physical injury—care. The best care is holistic—attending to all aspects of self. In addition to some of the emotional first aid that we discussed previously, getting enough rest, drinking enough water, eating well, and steering clear of numbing activities like drinking alcohol/doing drugs is advised. While these numbing strategies may help short-term, they can complicate the healing process in the long run.It totally depends on the person and the nature of the relationships they have with friends and family. If friends are healthy and supportive, absolutely. If the family members involved in the family secrets do not feel safe, at least in the short term, it may be appropriate to take some time and space away from them while the person heals themselves—even if their intention long-term is to heal the family relationship.In addition to what I said earlier, I always encourage people with a strong network of friends to consider what the term ‘family of choice” means to them. For many people with toxic or strained family relationships, it may become more helpful to lean in to those friends who have more adaptive/healthy qualities that they wish of their family.Professional therapy with someone who understands trauma and the dynamics of development, betrayal, and family dynamics could be extremely helpful. Don’t be afraid to ask questions of potential providers beforehand. Some people also find learning something new, even if this is taking up new hobby, as a constructive way to be open to new things—which can be a useful adjunct in the healing process.

When you have tried everything that seems healthy outside of therapy to cope and move through the information and you are still feeling stuck in life; although as a therapist I feel that professional therapy can always be appropriate during times of adjustment and transition. [Editor’s note: Not all practitioners are equipped to help clients with trauma, and not all therapeutic approaches are effective. As Marich advised, look for a therapist with extensive training and specialization in trauma.]Learn more about Marich, her books, online courses, and resources at her website and at The Institute for Creative Mindfulness. And look for videos on her online resources portal that teach content in an accessible style. 

Look  for more articles about aspects of trauma and various therapeutic approaches upcoming in Severance.

By B.K. JacksonIn our society, we engage in age-old rituals that help share the burden of grief after a loss. We hold the hands of the bereaved through services and at gravesites. We send cards and flowers, make donations, and create meal chains. We stand in solidarity and share stories about the lost loved ones to buoy the spirits of those who mourn them. We offer practical and spiritual succor, shoulders to cry on, and a promise of being there for the bereaved when they need us.

Only sometimes we don’t. For losses that fall outside of society’s norms—particularly those linked with something perceived as shameful or socially embarrassing—the rituals are often absent or ignored, the grievers left alone to tend to their wounds, without empathy and support.

Kenneth Doka, PhD, formerly a professor of gerontology and now senior consultant to the Hospice Foundation of America and author of numerous books about grief, coined the term disenfranchised grief in 1987 to describe the sorrow associated with these situations that stand outside society’s norms of “legitimate” loss. It refers to the emotional aftermath of losses that are not acknowledged or validated by others—a solitary state in which individuals are unable to mourn openly and may suffer in silence. They believe—or are made to feel—that they’re not entitled to the ministrations typically provided when bereavement is socially sanctioned, that their losses aren’t worthy of grief, or that their feelings are inappropriate.

Although there are many contexts in which disenfranchised grief may arise, among the most common, as conceptualized by Doka, are when others:

• don’t recognize relationships (such as those involving ex-spouses, same sex partners, or individuals who’d had an extramarital affair);
• don’t acknowledge the loss as being significant (a divorce; the death of an adult sibling; the loss of a child in a stillbirth or a fetus in an abortion or a miscarriage; or the loss of a pet, a job, or one’s health); and
• view the loss as being socially stigmatized (such as suicide, AIDs, substance abuse).

In each case, the grievers have lost a significant relationship as well as the comfort of shared or public mourning and the social embrace that facilitates grieving and helps shoulder the pain.

Grief may be disenfranchised, Doka explains, not only by society but by oneself. People who are suffering may keep their feelings inside, self-disenfranchising themselves. “Sometimes people don’t feel they have a right to grieve. There may be shame or they don’t understand the legitimacy of their own losses,” he says.We recently spoke to Doka about how disenfranchised grief may be experienced by individuals with losses related to genetic identity, family separation, and family secrets. You may be vulnerable to it, he says, if, for example, you:

• find out that a family member is not genetically connected to you;
• discover the identity of your biological father only to find that he’s deceased;
• search for and find biological family members but are rejected by them; or
• you learn of the death of a biological family member who refused contact with you

In each of these cases, Doka observes, you’ve lost a relationship. “It may not be a relationship that you ever had, but you may have lost a fantasy of a relationship you wanted to have.” And when kinship roles are not recognized, he adds, the right to grieve is also not recognized.

Disenfranchised grief also comes into play when secrets prevent open communication, observes Kathleen R. Gilbert, PhD, professor emerita in the department of applied health science, Indiana University School of Public Health-Bloomington and an Association for Death Education and Counseling Fellow in Thanatology (FT). Furthermore, adoptees, donor conceived people, and NPEs (not parent expected or nonparental event) individuals often have fantasies of reconciliation and a desire to understand their origin stories. When they search and find that their biological parents have died or they contact living relatives who are nonresponsive, there’s a lot of grief involved. “A piece of what they need to know is not available,” says Doka. “We like to create stories about ourselves. We want to know where we were born and who raised us, but in some situations the narrative is incomplete.” When you don’t know how you began, he adds, it influences your sense of self, and there’s grief over the loss of identity.

For all these types of losses, it’s a good bet that few will stand with you in any rituals of mourning, because in many cases there are no such rituals. And when there are, such as the funeral of a birthparent with whom you had not reunited—the man who, while married, had an affair with your mother and later ignored your attempt to connect—you may be excluded or made to feel unwelcome. And if the birthfather you never had the opportunity to meet died, it’s not likely friends will acknowledge that you have cause to mourn, let alone send Hallmark cards or drop by with casseroles. It’s even less likely if you’ve only just discovered—at the same time you learned who your birthfather was—that he died some time ago. And there are no rituals for adoptees who mourn the parents they’ve never known and may never know or for donor conceived individuals who can’t locate their donors. In all of these situations, others may never understand your sadness and your sense of loss over someone you didn’t know and something that happened long ago.

You—and those around you—may not believe you have the need or right to grieve for a relationship that never existed, but the loss of the idea, the wish, the hope for a relationship is as painful as the actual loss of a loved one.

“There are losses here,” Gilbert agrees. If you were adopted, for example, she says, “You didn’t have just one loss, you had layer upon layer of losses.” About this grief you experience over not having known your biological family, she says, “You own it, you know it, you feel it. And then you have this social surround—all the people around you looking at you and saying, ‘I know it’s hard, but you should be grateful for everything you have, for having the knowledge you have.” While there’s no reason for adopted individuals to feel gratitude, it’s not only expected but is also believed to erase any pain associated with the adoption experience. “And the thing is,” says Gilbert, “you may be very grateful, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a loss.”

Adoptees, furthermore, “are often told how lucky they were to get adopted, so they may feel disenfranchised from being able to mourn the loss of their birth/first parents,” adds JaeRan Kim, PhD, MSW, assistant professor of  social work at the University of Washington Tacoma. And the feelings of donor conceived individuals may similarly be disrespected by those who suggest they not only should not feel loss but should consider themselves fortunate merely to exist.

What does it matter if others don’t understand? Social acknowledgement of losses is important, Gilbert says, because as social animals we require it. “It may be hard-wired into us to have those who support and care for us confirm the reality we’re trying to construct.” We don’t make sense of things ourselves, she explains. “We make sense in a social context. We play off of other people. We think about things and look at other people and see how they react to us.”People experiencing disenfranchised grief, says Doka, “often have manifestations of grief, anger, and guilt and they don’t identify it as such.” To cope with disenfranchised grief, it’s necessary to recognize it. Acknowledge your feelings and understand that they are legitimate—you own them and are entitled to them—and identify them as grief. After this first step, there are no silver bullets, Doka observes, but there are a few self-help strategies that can be useful.When helping clients with disenfranchised grief or other issues, Doka often asks them to examine their own coping abilities. He asks, “’How have you coped with losses in the past? What’s been helpful and what has not?’ My message would be to analyze your historic strength and utilize it, and that’s going to be different for everyone.”Rituals of mourning play a role in helping individuals mourn and integrate the experience of loss into their lives. If you’ve been excluded or prohibited from participating in these rituals and have not been supported in your sorrow, it might be helpful to create what Doka calls a therapeutic ritual. Even If the loss occurred in the past but there wasn’t an opportunity to mourn, it’s not too late to create these healing rituals.

There are several questions you’ll need to ask yourself when devising a ritual, Doka says. First, what is the message associated with the ritual you want to create? For someone who was rejected by a birth parent, “It may be a message of affirmation, just saying, ‘I don’t know why you didn’t have contact with me but thank you for giving me a piece of life, being part of my life.’ Or it may be a ritual of continuity, in which you say, ‘I acknowledge that I’m part of you even if you didn’t acknowledge me.’ It might be a ritual of transition in which you say, “I don’t need your approval or recognition any more. I am who I am and that’s fine.’”

The second question is, what are the elements of your healing ritual—what form will it take? And last, ask yourself whether anyone needs to witness the ritual, and if so, who? In some cases, Doka says, you may want to involve your siblings or your significant other, and in others you might want a broader audience of friends and family.

According to Gilbert, these don’t have to be “rituals with a capital R, but just acts that take you outside of the mundane, give greater meaning, and help you deal with something.” It might be as simple as lighting a candle and saying the name of the person you lost,” she says. It can be done privately or in a group, but it has to be something that’s meaningful to you. “It acknowledges that it was a loss, it was real, there’s emotion associated with it, and that that’s okay.” Gilbert remembers when she assigned a class of students to create loss rituals. One student, she recalls, wrote a letter to her father, who had died when she was very young. She went with a friend to a fire pit and burned the sealed letter. As the smoke was rising into the sky she said, “Dad I’m sending this letter to you and it’s coming to you on this smoke.” Another student cooked and enjoyed the favorite meal of someone associated with a loss. It doesn’t necessarily require an audience, says Gilbert, just a sincere intention to create a meaningful acknowledgement.

After you develop and carry out your ritual, it’s helpful, Doka says, to find someone, perhaps a therapist, “who can help you unpack the experience.” Together, he suggests, you can explore how the ritual worked for you and whether it met your needs or whether you need to do something else.Experiencing grief isn’t reason alone to need help. You needn’t seek help because others think you need to “get over it.” People can be uncomfortable with others’ grief, even more so when it’s disenfranchised. When they want you to get over it, what they’re really saying, Gilbert observes, is “‘Stop behaving in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I want you to go back to what I see as normal.’ But your normal is never going to be that normal anymore because you’ve had this loss and its changed reality.”

While others may want to rush you through your grief, you don’t have to operate on any timeline but your own. “Grieving is normal and can take a long time,” says Gilbert. “It can be like a river you fall into. Sometimes you’re drowning and sometimes you’re paddling along with it. It’s not that bad, the water is warm, and you can almost touch the bottom. And that’s okay.”

“Grief is its own being,” agrees Beth Kane, LCSW, a private practitioner in New Jersey. “It’s not something you get over. It’s something you learn to live with, a companion you learn to integrate into your life.” It changes you, she says, “but you learn not to let it define you. That takes whatever time it takes as long as you don’t get swallowed by it.” Healing, she says, no matter what kind, is never a linear process. “It’s a slip and slide, up and down, back and forth, two steps up and one back. We get there eventually, but processing and integration don’t work like a stepladder.” And with grief, “the only two fixed points are the shock and the resolution.” Resolution, she adds, doesn’t mean the pain goes away. It just means we have integrated it and it isn’t as acute as often.”

We’re complex creatures, Gilbert says. “We can’t be happy all the time. That’s okay. That’s where empathy and caring about other people comes from.” According to Kim, “Individuals who experience disenfranchised grief need to be supported by those who acknowledge the great emotional and psychological costs of trying to be ‘strong,’ rather than allowing themselves to mourn.”Disenfranchised grief, because its burden isn’t relieved through the support of others, may be internalized, resulting in what psychologists call complicated grief, or grief that has no resolution. “When we are invalidated, we often suppress our real feelings for fear of being judged, says Kane. This interference with the bereavement process, and disenfranchised grief, she says, can lead to complicated grief, which can cause symptoms such as difficulty with normal daily activities, a sense of purposelessness, longing for the object of the loss, and intense focus on the loss. It also can instigate or exacerbate mental health issues including anxiety, depression, substance abuse, and even PTSD. Worse, those who experience disenfranchised grief may be less likely than others to seek help for fear of being further stigmatized. But a therapist can help individuals get past these fears and dispel the attitudes that prevent them from working through their grief. Kane works with her clients to avoid labeling feelings and emotions as “good, bad, positive, or negative.” “It’s through awareness, acceptance, and support that we can work through them.”

What makes grief complicated and problematic, Gilbert says, is if you can’t function. “If you can’t carry out your day to day functions, if you socially isolate yourself, if you’re using drugs or alcohol to deaden your interaction with the world, if you feel ending your own life would be the best way to deal with what’s ongoing in your life at this time, that’s significant and a point at which you need to be working with someone who’s professional to help you find your way back.”You may find all the care and empathy you need by participating in a support group run by a trained professional. But when grieving is more complicated, professional help may be necessary. It’s important, Gilbert says, to seek help from an expert. Many people who consider themselves grief therapists may not be adequately trained, she says, and may believe helping individuals cope with grief is a matter of educating them about the five stages of grief—a largely discredited concept that’s not research-based and was never intended to apply to loss of loved ones. Look for a therapist, she advises, who’s certified in thanatology (the scientific study of death and practices associated with it) and credentialed by the Association for Death Education and Counseling.

“When people are grieving, they often feel that they’re crazy,” says Gilbert. “It’s helpful to have someone who can tell you that your crazy is normal.” When you think about it, she adds, “If something horrific happens and it knocks you off kilter, if you feel normal you’re kind of crazy.”

By B.K. JacksonWhen family secrets are unveiled by DNA tests or otherwise revealed, the secret discoverers and the secret keepers are faced with thorny decisions about whether to come clean about their secrets or double down on them. For each, the stakes are high. And with secrets related to genetic identity and origin stories, there may be many stakeholders and a ripple effect on many others individuals who might be deeply affected by the maintenance or divulgence of inconvenient truths.

If you’ve discovered, for example, that your mother has kept to herself the fact that you were conceived during a clandestine relationship, uncovering her affair is likely to trigger shock waves not only for you, but also for your social or birth-certificate father, your biological father, and all of their families. It might even affect your relationships with your significant other and your children. This is equally true if you’ve found that you’re a late-discovery adoptee or were donor conceived, the latter widening still further the ripple effect since the size of your biological family is potentially large and the revelations may be ongoing.

You may wrestle continually with whether to “come out” with your story knowing that in doing so, you will “out” someone else and there will be consequences. But because secrets pertaining to your origin story—to your truth—are fundamental and foundational, you may feel you have no choice. To not reveal your genetic identity may make you feel inauthentic or mired in a shame that isn’t yours.

Setting aside the issue of whose secret is it to tell and who has the right to open these hornets’ nests (we’ll get to that in another article), it may be in your best interest—in fact it may be essential to your well-being—to set the record straight. But unshrouding long-hidden truths is likely to trigger a cascade of reactions, including guilt, anger, shame, and feelings of betrayal, among all the parties involved. Whether families will withstand the impact or crack may depend on how the family skeletons are let loose.

The truth, it’s often said, will set you free, but there are ways of allowing the truth to come to light without leaving you with—as the song goes—“nothin’ left to lose.” Being mindful of the potential repercussions and talking about them may help reduce collateral damage.

There’s no right way to go about unburdening oneself of a secret, and when it comes to the consequences, every family is different, says Katy Barbier-Greenland, who studies family secrets as part of a PhD program based in sociology and psychology—Family Secrets, Secret Families. Inspired by the discovery of a major family secret of her own and a resulting fascination with the ways in which identity, secrecy, silence, stigma, taboo, knowledge, and power function in and around families, the project aims to explore how reproductive family secrets—those involving conception and birth—affect people’s lives. These include secret or hidden children, siblings, and half siblings; secret adoptions, surrogacy, donor conceptions; children conceived in ways seen as taboo; and misattributed or unanticipated parentage.

As part of her research, Barbier-Greenland interviewed adults about their secrets to “shed light on what these immensely personal and transformative life experiences mean for people, their identities, and their perspectives on families.” This research will provide a base that professionals can use to support individuals going through these difficult experiences.Barbier-Greenland sketches the two sides of the issue. “The adult child might think, ‘I don’t want to be dishonest anymore. I want to tell my story and begin to create my new identity. I want to search for my biological father and any siblings. I want to tell my kids the truth about our ancestry. I want to start to move on from the harm that secrecy has caused. I don’t want to lie about who I am anymore.” The parent, however, may think, “I don’t want to be exposed. I don’t want things to change. I don’t want to face negative reactions and judgment from others. I don’t want aspects of my private life made public.”

How is it possible to bridge the distance or meet in the middle?

It won’t be easy to move from secrecy to honesty after decades of suppressing the truth—even when there hasn’t been a “web of lies or active deceit and dishonesty,” says Barbier-Greenland.

All of her interviewees expressed the wish that they’d learned about family secrets earlier, “mostly so they could have developed relationships with family members earlier on in their lives and because their lives would have unfolded differently.” Still, they agree, it’s best not to rush into decisions. Preparation and support are key. It’s necessary for both sides to communicate with each other and work through the repercussions of revealing or keeping the secret. Each needs to know what’s at stake for the other and what needs to be overcome.

When debating disclosure of secrets, the determining factor should be more than merely “honesty is the best policy,” says Barbier-Greenland. It’s more complicated, she says, with much more to consider. “Some of my interviewees have spoken with their parents or family members immediately in sensitive and empathic ways and they’ve been able to find a positive way forward; some have tried to do the same but have had families completely shatter and relationships crumble.” It’s difficult to strike a balance, she adds, advising that it’s wise to take time to consider your way forward carefully and avoid making hasty decisions or sudden disclosures.

If there’s a positive relationship, for example, between an adult child who wants to be open about their origin story and a parent who doesn’t, she advises not rushing to disclose the secret. Although she acknowledges that everyone’s story is theirs to tell, she recommends proceeding cautiously and with patience and deliberation. “Given some time to get use to the idea, the secret keeper might be willing to be more open, and together you can find a way to understand each other’s needs and preferences and navigate this difficult time together.”

It would be helpful, she says, for the adult child who wants to be open to consider what’s gone into the secret-keeping—“how many years and how much of the parents’ identity may be wrapped up in this secret—and that unravelling it and sharing it with the world could have an immense impact on the parent.”

Take into account both how much their lives might be changed by opening this secret and be mindful of what the circumstances were in which the truth was hidden. Although sometimes secrets are kept for selfish reasons, says Barbier-Greenland, there are other reasons. “In doing this project, I’ve learned that compassion for secret keepers is of the utmost importance. People keep secrets for so many reasons, and it’s complex. Sometimes they keep secrets out of love, because they were obliged to, or they wanted to protect themselves or someone else.”

Further, societal taboos, stigma, and behavioral expectations might have been very different then than now, she observes.

On the other hand, the secret keepers must recognize that times have changed.

Decades of work concerning adoptees and donor conceived individuals have shown that understanding one’s biogenetic origins is essential to understanding oneself, says Barbier-Greenland. “It’s not everything, but it’s central. Since the 1990s, the literature globally has turned toward and recommended openness rather than secrecy in families and legislative and policy trends have shifted in response.”

Parents need to be aware of the reasons for this shift in understanding and realize that not knowing one’s origin story, or knowing it and not being able to share it, may be devastating. Learning that you aren’t quite who you thought you were and having to create a new identity will be an enormous and often painful hurdle, Barbier-Greenland observes. “Anger, anxiety, sadness, frustration—all these emotions are common, and the effects can be traumatic,” she says. “Discovering a family secret about your birth or conception is a transformative life experience and forces people to rewrite their life stories and reframe their identities and definitions of family. It impacts family relationships and can be utterly profound,” she says. It not only changes how you think about yourself and your future, she adds, but may even change how your children think about themselves and their future.

“People have to deal with the fact that close family members kept a major family secret from them as well as deal with the actual secret itself. This is huge.” Thus, there almost certainly will be trust issues to work through and your relationship can’t help but be affected in some way.

Parents need to be aware, too, that your discovery of a secret surrounding your conception may have been shattering. It’s essential, she says, that they understand both why you need to know the details of the secret and why you may need to share the secret.

“It’s important to acknowledge that the relationships will be affected in some way. It’s quite possible that relationships between other family members will also be affected, and that some families can come together and some will splinter and fall apart after such disclosures. To reduce the possibility of the latter outcome, seek support. A therapist can help you and your parent work together to understand each other’s feelings and viewpoints, to understand the possible repercussions, and talk about how to proceed with dignity and sensitivity.

“You’re not alone,” says Barbier-Greenland. “I encourage everyone in this situation to seek support.” In addition to therapists, genetic genealogists are especially well suited to help, she says, because they have a deep understanding of all sides of these issues. “There are also some great online groups where people can chat with others in similar situations and those who are at different stages in their journey, which can be immensely valuable.”It might be worth considering, Barbier-Greenland says, “that disclosure doesn’t mean shouting it from the rooftops or making a big announcement on social media or at a family gathering.” Instead, you can disclose in stages, giving people time to adjust, telling first a few family members and friends, and then over time others as it seems appropriate or necessary.

Reassuring your parent that you would only ever reveal the secret to appropriate people in sensitive ways is important, she says. While some may disagree with the need to restrict the nature of the revelation or be unwilling to be anything but fully forthcoming, being as sensitive as possible can help preserve relationships and reduce harm.

The parents, says Barbier-Greenland, “would also benefit from some strategies for having a conversation with people if they get approached by family members or others that the adult child has disclosed to. This would help develop their capacity and equip them better,” she says. “It also might help them feel more confident about shifting toward openness and honesty.”

Taking the time to work through things, says Barbier-Greenland, “gives everyone time to process the experience for themselves, ensuring that no one reacts in the moment without considering each other and others in the family. There’s the possibility that with time and work, and professional support, the parent will eventually feel able to support you in revealing the secret to the world.”

She mindful that’s a best-case scenario. In many cases, the discussions can’t be broached because the secret keeper is adamant about maintaining the status quo. And in others, discussions breakdown, resulting in an impasse. In such cases, says Barbier-Greenland, “maintaining secrecy or colluding with deception is not an option for the adult child.” Still, a meaningful conversation and a meeting of the minds, she says, is something to strive for.

To learn more about Barbier-Greenland’s research, see her website and follow her on twitter @KatyBeeGreen.

By B.K. JacksonEveryone knows about the five stages of grief. And therein lies the problem. Introduced in 1969 by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross in her book “On Death and Dying” as a blueprint for the emotional responses experienced by people with terminal illness, the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—have been applied, or, many argue, misapplied—to the experience of grief. The media touted the stages to such a degree that they became dogma, and now, decades later, they remain influential. They’re recommended by medical professionals to patients and by friend to friend, not only as guide to coping with the loss of a loved one but also as a balm for the emotions associated with any type of loss, whether a romantic breakup or a job termination. All this, despite the fact that there’s no scientific basis for the five stages, even for use with the terminally ill.

While the stages, arguably, may have limited usefulness as a tool in the hands of trained grief therapists and in end-of-life care, their value for helping individuals self-manage grief has been widely overstated and, according to some experts, misrepresented.

“So many people think grief is described by Kübler-Ross’s ideas about the five stages of grief,” says Kathleen R. Gilbert, PhD, professor emerita in the department of applied health science, Indiana University School of Public Health-Bloomington and an Association for Death Education and Counseling fellow in thanatology (FT). “But people don’t do those stages. The concept, she says, was devised by a chaplain who wanted to help people of his faith who were in the process of dying. It wasn’t based on research, she adds, only on his own belief system. Kübler-Ross appropriated the concept and applied it to people experiencing grief related to the loss of loved ones.”

The concept, Gilbert says, “feels real because it seems like such a nice progression. The problem is that we as a species don’t do progression well.” The stages don’t even work with the dying, she adds. “Nobody does it that way, but it feels good to think you’re not going to have to find your own way. But everyone has to find their own way because everyone grieves in their own unique manner.”

Mention the five stages to Pauline Boss, a family therapist, educator, and expert on loss—as we did in an interview—and she simply says, “Oh please!” She points out that “in Kübler-Ross’s last book, which unfortunately few people read before she died, she herself said they were meant for the person who was dying, not for the mourners. And she herself said grief is messy, not linear.”

David Kessler, who, having cowritten two books with Kübler-Ross—“Life Lessons: Two Experts on Death & Dying Teach Us About the Mysteries of Life & Living,” and “On Grief & Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss”—acknowledges that during the last 40 years the stages have been misunderstood. Still, in his forthcoming book, “Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief”—informed by the loss of his 21-year-old son—he continues to discuss grief in terms of the stages, even delineating a sixth stage—finding meaning. While he describes the five stages as “tools to help us frame and identify what we may be feeling,” he acknowledges, as Kübler-Ross did, that individuals don’t go through these stages in order. It’s a curious statement, though, since a stage, by definition, is a step in a process.

While Kessler agrees that “there’s not a typical response to loss as there is no typical loss,” he characterizes the stages as “responses to loss that many people have.” Yet even that’s a notion in dispute. Although Kessler says the stages were “never meant to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages,” many experts observe that they continue to be “prescribed” exactly for the purpose of compartmentalizing emotions into tidy categories, offering what may be an unreliable road map through grief—one that’s bound to make travelers who don’t experience the stages feel lost and confused. The problem, these experts suggest, is not only that the stages aren’t linear, but that they don’t truly represent the collective experience—because there really is no collective experience.

Numerous critics have noted conceptual weaknesses and over-simplification in the stage concept, some insisting it doesn’t stand up to scientific scrutiny. In 2003, Yale researchers looked at the grieving experience of 233 people, and although they found some aspects were as described by Kübler-Ross, others were not. They also found that the while Kübler-Ross described depression as the most intense of the reactions to grief, the grievers in their study pointed to yearning for their lost loved ones as the most powerful negative effect. And Columbia University psychologist and grief expert George Bonanno disputes the stage theory, suggesting instead that grief is experienced in waves, the severity of which diminishes over time. And in 2011, Ruth Davis Konigsberg argued against the usefulness of the stages in “The Truth About Grief: The Myth of its Five Stages and the New Science of Loss.”

In “Misguided Through the Stages of Grief,” Margaret Stroebe, Henk Schut, and Kathrin Boerner track the rise of Kübler-Ross’s stage theory and the subsequent variations offered by other scholars. In the article, they focus on “emergent lines of argument against stage theory, covering conceptual concerns, lack of empirical validity, its failure to assist in identifying those at risk or with complications, and the potentially negative consequences for bereaved persons themselves,” concluding that the stages miss the mark in each aspect. They argue not only that the steps have no utility, but also that they actually may be harmful to people who do not go through them. The stages, they believe, should be discarded and “relegated to the realms of history.”

If they have so little real value, how did these stages become so deeply accepted and ingrained as to become the gospel of grief? According to Boss, who’s working on a book about the myth of closure, “American society loved the five stages because they offer a way to get over it, to find closure, which is a very American idea,” she says. “You don’t hear people from Latin American, Mexico, or Asia ever talk about that. They don’t see it as necessary to have closure.” The idea that we need to get over loss and move on, Boss believes, is a uniquely North American idea.

So, what do you need to know about the five stages of grief? Forget about them. The steps are appealing because they offer comforting guideposts to the unknown and promise order and predictability. But grief is neither orderly nor predictable. Columbia University’s Center for Complicated Grief characterizes typical grief in simpler terms, dividing the experience into acute grief and integrated grief. The former is the intense experience of sorrow and yearning that overshadows an individual in the immediate aftermath of a loss. It may be accompanied by difficult emotions including guilt, anger, and anxiety. Integrated grief is the grief we live with and fold into our lives; it takes up less space but doesn’t disappear. Not a typical reaction to loss, complicated grief is when acute grief persists and continues to overshadow one’s life, interferes with normal life, and results in dysfunctional beliefs and behaviors.

If your feelings threaten to overwhelm you, it’s wise to seek help from a trained grief therapist, preferably one certified in thanatology (the scientific study of death and practices associated with it) and credentialed by the Association for Death Education and Counseling. A therapist can help even when grief isn’t all-consuming. If, however, you’re wading through so-called normal grief alone, remember that the use of words like “journey” and “path” don’t suggest there’s an endpoint. Grief is ongoing, meandering. It may be universal, but it’s not universally experienced. Your journey will be unique. There’s no timeline and you don’t need a map. You’ll find your own way, and it will take as long as it takes.

Whether it arises from the death of a loved one, the loss of a genetic identity, or rejection by birth family—grief is a wild, unpredictable tumbleweed and you’re along for the ride.