The Big Lie

Bloganuary Daily Prompt #23: What’s a Lie you tell yourself?

Honestly, the list of prompts reminds me of seeing the psychiatrist. Threw the years I have believed many lies about myself, some told by others and some I told myself. Childhood was not easy. Having a mother who really did not want to adopt you in the beginning affected the mother-daughter relationship. It was well after I was an adult, that my adopted mom really began having a relationship with me. So there were many lies, but one major lie in my life.

Growing up with a sister 19 weeks younger than yourself was interesting. As anyone that can do the math would know we were not blood sisters, one of us had to be adopted. I learned this truth when I became pregnant the first time. I approached my mother with this thought out time table, her response is my sister and I were not adopted, my sister was born way premature. Ok. Another six years of living the lie.

When I was pregnant with my second child, my doctor, Dr. Cain, informed me it is physically impossible for one woman to give birth to two children nineteen weeks apart and one of you is adopted. Once more I went to my adoptive mother and repeated what my doctor had told me. I knew I was probably adopted due to the way she treated me growing up and as an adult. My adoptive mom insisted this doctor I was seeing was a quack and did not know what he was talking about. I knew I would never get the truth from her by her tone and actions. I did not approach the subject again.

I continued my life living the lie. A mother would not tell a lie to their daughter. Perhaps the doctors were wrong, and my adoptive mother was a special woman who gave birth to two children 19 weeks apart.

Years go by and life changes happen. The time came my adoptive mother died. Birth records and adoption records for the years I was born were being opened for the adopted child or the parents who gave their child up for adoption. I decided with some strong encouragement from my husband to get my birth records. The Bureau of Vital Statistics can not tell anyone if they are adopted or not. They do tell people to fill out the form, pay the fee, and if you are not adopted the money will be refunded. A few weeks later I received my original birth certificate, and a couple of letters from an attorney requesting my new birth certificate with changes made after the adoption. Now, on official government paper I knew I was adopted.

Shortly after getting the original birth certificate, I purchased a red merle Australian Shepherd puppy. The puppy needed a name. I learned without a doubt that I was adopted at the age of 48 years. A long time to believe a lie. I named the puppy my birth name, the one given to me by my birth mother, Bonnie Jo. Every time I called my puppy, I reminded myself to no believe the lie and see the truth. Puppies have puppy lessons to learn, they explore and get into trouble. I said Bonnie Jo a lot during the first year of her life.

About two years later, a cousin finally told me I was adopted. Only she thought I already knew I was adopted from my adopted mother telling me. It was a huge relief to hear a family member finally say “You know you are adopted and so is your sister.” The family was free to finally talk to me about my adoption. I learned my sister was adopted shortly after her birth, and my adopted mother’s mother was the nurse when she was born. I was adopted later, after I was over a year old. They told me how my parents fought over my adoption, as my mom did not want an older child, and my dad was insistent on adopting me.

My adopted sister and I were both born in Colorado. Our adoptions took place in New Mexico. There is stories of how our adoptive parents met the doctor who delivered both of us, at the state line to pay for us and pick us up. New Mexico does not release any information to those who are adopted or those who gave a child up for adoption. There is an exception for medical reasons, with lawyers involved, the lawyers will communicate with the child and birth parents through the court, but no names are given. Everything is anonymous.

Everyday, several times a day, I have a special friend who reminds me of the truth. She is getting older and one day she will be gone, but the truth will remain. I have made peace with the biggest lie in my life. I am adopted.


Family Tree

Daily prompt for day 8 of bloganuary:

How far back in your family tree can you go?

A family tree gives a sense of belonging. There are people who you are connected with. A family tree provides a family history through time, where you family started and what places your family has been. These shape the family traditions and heritage forming a part of your identity. You can relate to and be a part of something more eternal than just yourself.

More important for today, a family tree brings forth medical knowledge of possible diseases and illnesses that run in families, such as heart problems, diabetes, cancer and others.

How far back can I go in my family tree? – Me, Myself and I.

I was born in the early 1960’s. Before birth control was available to those who were not married, and without a doctor’s prescription, and legal in all states. I was born before abortion was legalized with Roe vs. Wade. A time after the sexual revolution had begun. Yet, society was harsh on unwed mothers and mothers who had to work to help support a family.

I am adopted.

I was born in a hospital owned by doctors. Those doctors also operated an unwed mothers home. On my original birth certificate, the address for the hospital, and where my mother resided at the time of my birth are the same.

For a doctor, there was not much money in delivering a baby, but money could be made in adopting out those babies. During the time of my birth an adoption would cost a couple more than the price of a new automobile – $5,000.00. Society expected that married couples were to have families. A couple without children was looked as carrying a plague and did not fit into what society thought was right and proper. A couple not having a family, would affect the man’s employment opportunities. There was no fertility treatments that we have today. Research was just starting to develop fertility treatments for childless couples at the time of my birth.

My adoptive parents borrowed money to adopt. Adopted first was my younger sister, as a premature infant. Her mother was a teenager. My adopted grandmother was present at her birth. The doctor who delivered younger sister, delivered my adoptive mother, and all her siblings. The doctor was their family doctor, familiar with the situation of my adoptive parents not being able to have children after five years of marriage.

There are infant picture of my sister at my Aunt’s june wedding. My sister was born in May. There is an old home movie showing she was so small she could fit in a quart size Mason canning jar. The baby clothes my adoptive mother kept, were doll clothes, tiny in size.

The same doctor delivered me. My adoptive dad was instrumental in my adoption. I was the child of a friend at work, who had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. My adoptive dad fought with my adoptive mother over adopting me. I was adopted after I was a year old. The earliest pictures of me is an old home movie of my adoptive dad putting me on the back of a horse. I could walk, as I walked up to him as he held the horse. All the early pictures of me I am a toddler, walking around. There are pictures of my sister and I together, I am standing and she is in a walker.

Our adoptive parents never told us we were adopted. Everyone in the family, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and our spouses were told we were adopted. They were sworn to secrecy, an honor they kept until the last year. I was informed by the doctor delivering my babies, the my sister or I had to be adopted. Siblings can not medically or scientifically be nineteen weeks apart. My sister and I are nineteen weeks apart in birth, I am the oldest.

I was treated with disdain by my adoptive mother and the favoritism she gave to my sister. So having medical facts stating one of us was adopted, I was not shocked I was the adopted daughter.

My sister was informed by the doctors delivery her children, that one of us had to be adopted. She had heard rumors I was adopted and assumed the adopted girl in the family was me.

At the age of 48 years, after I had received my original birth certificate from the state I was born. While talking to a cousin I set up the conversation to try and hear the truth. Finally a family member told me I was adopted. But told me my sister was adopted first. I spoke with the few family members who would speak, about the events around and concerning our adoption. There was not much information, but enough of the same story to form a small story line as to the origins of my adoption.

My sister, was 58 years of age when she learned she was adopted. The shock of information hit my sister from one of my blog posts. I did not know she was reading my blog posts. My sister and I do not talk often, only when things change in the family, such as death. To have the phone ring with her number, was a surprise. After her call to me she spoke with other family members gaining about the same amount of information I had, not much.

Life is different when you are adopted and not told. When you learn, all the medical history you have written down is obsolete. There is no medical history for those who are adopted before the 1980’s. Medical history for my children is incomplete, especially concerning births and pregnancies.

So far from life experience, I am healthy and active for my age. I and my children have low blood pressure and a low heart rate, perfect for those wanting to run marathons or cycle long distances. Not so good if you are in the hospital and go to sleep as the buzzers go off and wake you up. I and my children have a sensitivity to pain medications, and if the drug says it can make you drowsy, we will go to sleep. There are multiple births. While I only had singles, my son has had a set of identical twins. My youngest daughter was pregnant with identical twins, and lost them. Then she became with triplets and delivered three healthy boys, and two show a strong possibility of being twins.

The past there is none. The future looks bright.

I am the root to our family tree.


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Would You Tell?

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I am a late discovery adoptee. What does it mean to be a late discovery adoptee? Very simple, you learned you were an adopted child after you became an adult. I suppose learning beyond a shadow of doubt at the age of 48 years I was indeed adopted, I would be considered a late discovery adoptee or LAD.

I had strong suspensions I was adopted during various times of my life. Although every time I would ask my adoptive mother if I was adopted, her answer, “Absolutely not! Where do you get such ideas?”

I respond, “From biology class.” when I was in high school.

“My OB says two children can not be naturally born that close together.”

Mom’s reply, “What does he know?”

My mother guarded this secret ferociously. Even as a 48 year old adult and I approached my mother with the adoption, my mother was never going to tell me the truth about my adoption.

When a child is adopted into a family, regardless what age the child is adopted. They become part of a family just like every other family. People with dysfunctions, problems, different personalities and family issues. Adopted children do not automatically get adopted into the “Happily Ever After” family. We are adopted into a family and become family, most of us do anyway.

My mother and I seemed to always have a wall between us. She was not nurturing to me. She considered my problems petty and not worth her time when I was a teenager. If I had a question about boys, she told me, I would figure it out. My dad was the person who told me about becoming a woman, and about boys and about sex.

Why the wall between my mother and I?

Perhaps it was because I am very intelligent my mother and I did not get along. I showed I was a very quick learner from a very young age. I started first grade at age 5, half way through the school year. I was moved up one grade. I graduated high school, five days after I turned seventeen. Not to mention National Honor Society and straight “A’s”. Maybe the questions I asked as a small child intimidate her, as I would one day be more intelligent and knowledgeable than she was. Those reaction have happened with me in other relationships.

Then there is always the personality differences. But in truth I think she had a hard time with me for being adopted. According to aunts and uncles, my dad had to fight my mom for me to be adopted. Apparently dad really wanted to adopt me and my mom did not. There could be various reasons why my mom did not want to adopt me. But there was definitely a strong conflict concerning the adoption of me.

My sister recently learned at sixtyish, she is adopted. While she was content to believe the whispered rumors I was adopted. It was a shock to learn both of us were adopted.

Our first question: Why did my parents not tell me I was adopted?

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My sister then went on the investigative journey with the family relatives asking questions and not getting any more information than I did with one exception.

The aunts and uncles were angry that we were not told by our parents. Anger is one of the first emotions learning your are adopted when you are an adult. But the family was upset with our parents for not telling us. They did not know why my parents had sworn them to secrecy concerning the adoptions… but each one felt that my parents were wrong in doing so, and upset that we were not told by our parents, but learned through non-family members.

This past week we had dinner with my husband’s brother and his wife. We were discussing my sister just learning of her adoption.

The brother said if he adopted an infant, he would never tell the child they were adopted. “What is the point of telling them, when we would be their family?”

I gave one of my very rare glares, “I would tell. The child has the rights as a person to know the truth about themselves.” But my option is bias by the fact I am adopted and learned as an adult from someone other than family. No explanations or statements of love saying you were chosen to be our family.

If you were to adopt an infant, would you tell them they were adopted? Does an adult person have the right to know?

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Leave your thoughts in the comments.


The Beginning of a Novel

The research into the writing of my first book, has helped answer some questions on where I came from. The fact finding has helped to give a beginning to my life.

The emotions and feelings are hard to understand. I am not alone in feeling this way. My sister, she now shares the same feelings as I did and do. She is a little lost at the moment on what to do next, but has filed for her original birth certificate, the one prior to her adoption. She does not know how far she is going to go, if she will seek out her biological parents or not. She will cross that bridge when she gets there.

For me, I do not feel like I am totally alone in knowing there was a secret so sacred no one spoke. Since my sister has contacted every living relative and family friend she can think of to ask questions, the secret is no longer secret.

The girls know they are adopted”

One of the steps in the research is to contact an attorney to learn how to obtain the adoptions statues for the state of New Mexico. I was born in Colorado, but the adoption was in New Mexico. The online sources give current adoption statues, not the statues of the 1960’s when I was adopted. There will probably be a road trip involved.

There is one road trip to Colorado. My oldest daughter and I are going to research the Sister’s of Mercy orphanage history. The Sister’s of Mercy opened a hospital, boarding schools and orphanage in the late 1880’s. The orphanage was still in operation in the 1960’s. Several catholic orphanages were also used as unwed mothers homes in the 1950′ thru 1970’s. The catholic orphanages did not handle the adoptions, that was the responsibility of attorneys or adoption agencies. We are going to look into the not so popular history of Durango, Colorado, the place of my birth and my beginning.

In learning how to write a novel, the book I am reading, “How Fiction Works” by James Wood states to have location and history information correct. And since my life is the spine to this novel, I want the information to be accurate as best as is possible.

This novel will be full of intriguing events such as meetings at the state line to pick up a baby, a coworker’ girlfriend is pregnant, to adopting a half-breed child from white parents. Secrets, lies, and turmoil. Should make a good read. My life seems to be a fiction novel, why not write it down for others to share.

I did not tell to keep things secret, nor did I tell the lies. Those who did are gone, their voices silence. I will let facts expose the deceit and mysteries of my life. One day, I will be free of the cocoon of deceit. A follower told me that would make a good title, Free from the Cocoon of Deceit, for an autobiography, sounds good.


Free Me from the Cocoon of Deception

Sounds like a nice book title….? Actually it is a plea. A plea to family members sworn to secrecy for almost 60 years. I know I am adopted, why not tell me the story.

I learned 12 years ago I was adopted beyond any doubt. I was in my late forties. As a “white fleece” I call Vital Statistics to see if they would tell me I was adopted. The kind lady answered she could not, but I could pay the fee and request my adoption records. If there are no records the agency would refund my money. Ok, I played the game, I paid the fee, filled out the information and waited. A couple weeks later I received a large envelope with my original birth certificate, two letters from the attorney to the State requesting the new birth certificate because I had been adopted and a copy of the court stamped and recorded degree saying I was adopted to my parents and my new name.

First response to seeing the information was shock, no emotions and not one thought went through my mind. Just silent shock. Later, a huge array of emotions hit, mostly about the lies, teasing from cousins about being adopted, being called a half-breed, the avoidance of the subject. Anger was the predominate first emotion. Sadness followed wondering why no one could tell me the truth.

( In this post, father and mother refer to those who took care of me and raised me.)

My father was deceased. I would ask my mother, she was still living in the area we grew up in with her sister, my aunt. On a visit, my aunt brought out her wedding album. My aunt was a beautiful bride, had the full wedding common in that time era. I saw pictures of my sister on a pillow in my aunt’s lap at the wedding. I asked where are the pictures of me with my aunt? The photo album was slammed shut, aunt say, “I am tired of looking at these” and put the album away. I brought up the trouble I was having in getting a birth certificate, and that my sister and I were 19 weeks apart.

“Well, the state looses things all the time.” my mother said, staring out the window. “You know your sister was premature.”

“Yeah, but it takes awhile before a woman can get pregnant after having a child.” I responded.

Mom looks at and gives her giggle (the indicator a lie is going to be told), ” Your dad and I were h***y”. Aunt joins in the giggle.

“It is impossible for my sister and I to be as close in age as we are.” I state.

Mom looks at me sternly, “We are not discussing this. What do you know you were just a kid.” And leaves the room with an excuse to freshen up.

I knew I was not going to get anywhere there. And so it is with the rest of my aunts and uncles from my mother’s side of the family.

Feeling frustrated, I put the information on the shelf.

Two years later, while talking and reconnecting with cousin M, I set up the conversation to see if she would change the subject, or tell the truth.

“You know you and your sister are both adopted, right.” stated cousin M.

The tears began to flood down my checks. She continues,” You know right? oh my God, you did not know. I was not supposed to tell you. I was never to say a word about it. I thought you knew. I am so sorry, I should have kept my big mouth shut.”

I gain composure, told her the story of obtaining my adoption records and I knew with no doubt I was adopted.

I had lived with the lie “you are not adopted” for almost 50 years. You get in the habit of living a lie, going along with the status quo. I decided I was old enough to stop.

Shortly after obtaining my adoption records, I got me a female purebred Australian puppy. I named my puppy my original birth name, Bonnie Jo. Each time I had to call my puppy, I had to say my original birth name and remember not to live the lie. My puppy is now twelve years old. I do not live the lie of “not being adopted”.

Bonnie Jo

I have informed every relative I have talked to I am adopted, I have court records showing I am adopted. And yes, some aunts and uncles have asked to see the court records, to verify I am not making up a story.

My sister asked, “Why did you not tell me I was adopted when you found out?”

I will admit, I feel guilty about not telling her ten years ago when relatives told me we both were adopted. But mom was still living. Mom lived a few miles from my sister. If I told my sister she was adopted along with me, my sister would go straight to mom and ask. I know what my mom’s answer would be, as I heard it often enough when I uncovered a truth, “Do be absurd. You know your sister makes up things, or gets things changed around. Your not adopted, and neither is she.”

In a way it is good a non family member told my sister. She can not say it was some story they got from me that is not true.

My sister has called a living aunts and uncles asking questions. She has no more information from them as I did. ” I do not know, but you were so cute and we were so glad to have you in our family. Does it really matter. Besides I can not remember all that went on back then.”

I feel wrapped in a cocoon, tight like the changing caterpillar, only I can not get out, but want to see the light and fly in all my beauty. If my sister and I are going to get any answers, it will have to be from a non family member.

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Update to “Decisions Are Made”

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We make decisions daily, most are not major and have no major consequences or actions following the decision.

Late last night, actually at 2 AM today my time, I made a decision and posted “Decisions Are Made”, not realizing the events that would follow. I was expressing a decision concerning my adoption and the reasons for choosing not to pursue finding my biological family. There would be events from me posting my thoughts and decision on my adoption that I could not even dream up.

I appreciate all the comments and words I have received on the post “Decisions Are Made”. I appreciate those who follow my blog, and those I do not know who read my postings. A surprise greeted me this morning at approximately 9:30 AM with a phone call from one of my followers I was unaware of, the sister I was raised with.

When my sister called me, which is very rare, mostly we communicate through text messages, which is great as we are both busy people. I thought her call was to bring me bad news, the kind of news about family no one wants to hear. Instead, she wanted to talk about my blog post. She follows my blog, a happy surprise for me.

God does work in mysterious ways. We both knew one of us two girls had to be adopted. Sisters can not be 19 weeks apart in age, and both be born from the same biological mother. She had heard whispered rumors I was adopted, not a big deal. Last week, she ran into an person who our dad worked for and some how in the conversation came up about our dad adopting two children. My sister figured I was adopted, but the person insisted there were two children adopted. Then she reads my blog post “Decisions Are Made” at 4 AM in the morning of posting. She could not sleep, so she read my blog.

In the phone conversation she wanted to know what I knew about our adoptions. Who told me what. What was said. How I obtained my adoptions records. Where I had researched to learn of my biological parents.

I told her she was adopted first as a premature infant. Our mother’s mom, a nurse, was at her birth. I was adopted later at thirteen months of age. Our mom and dad fought over my adoption, my dad insisted, my mom did not want to adopt me. Raising two young children only 19 weeks apart in age with one being a preemie, would be a lot of work. Being the mother of four, with two girls 17 months apart, I can understand the reluctance of my mother concerning my adoption. Plus, I was not an infant.

I let her know our brothers who are natural children, both know of our adoptions. Our brothers had told my husband of my children I was adopted. She might want to start there since one of our brothers still lives in the same town.

I also told her of when I knew I was adopted and tried to get our mom to tell me. Mom was not going to ever tell me I was adopted, even though I let her know I was. Letting her know there may be some reluctance from our brothers to discuss the subject.

Many followers wonder why we were not told of our adoptions by family members or our parents. Talking to several family members, the younger ones were swore to secrecy with “beating until death” if they ever mentioned to us about being adopted. It was a very strict rule of silence within both sides of the family to never, ever under any circumstances reveal to either one of us about being adopted. Do not judge our family as these rules were held in place.

Every family has secrets, things that are spoken in whispers or not spoken of at all. This rule of silence was enforced so strongly, my cousin M who was the first family member to tell me, still feels badly about breaking this rule of silence even today.

My sister, 19 weeks younger than myself, for the first time learned she was adopted as well. My sister is wanting to find her biological parents and family. I wish her all the best. I know she will meet roadblocks trying to find information. I know there will be emotions on meeting the biological family. I am excited for her.

I am glad the light has finally shined on a this deeply hidden truth in our family. That was not the intent of my writing the post “Decisions Are Made”. I knew in the 1990’s I was adopted from the words of my husband at the time sharing that my brothers told him I was adopted. I put the information on a shelf. The information collected dust for many years. Then at the age of 48, I decided to dust off the information and see what I could find. On and off I have done research to find my biological parents. The recent research I have decide to end the searching. I was bringing a closure to the my search for biological parents. I am still writing a novel about the unwed homes and adoptions with a hint of my biological parents.

Yes, a white rose bush is so fitting for the remembrance of my adoption and biological parents.

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Decisions are Made

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Some of life’s major events that affect us personally, are decisions made by others. I am adopted. I had no say in my adoption. The fact I was adopted was kept from me, my parents never once told me I was adopted. The grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my husbands were told I was adopted, even my parents’ two natural children were told of my adoption. I was not. My mother denied I was adopted when I told her I had to be adopted when I was 30ish years old. At the age of 48, a cousin finally admitted to me I was adopted. The big life secret about me was finally in the open. The need to deny and not talk to me about being adopted is baffling, but not my decision.

I was 48 when I requested and received my adoption papers and information, including an original birth certificate. I had an organization called Adoption Angels locate my birth parents. My birth mother was already deceased. I supposedly have some half siblings for both my birth mother and birth father.

Lately, after some comments from a previous blog I posted, I made a decision to look into the adoption process of the time. The one question that had always troubled me was why I was put up for adoption. Previous research I discovered the wedding certificate of my birth parents. My birth parents were married as teenagers. According to the laws of the time period they would have required parental consent in order to get a marriage license and be married. It was not a runaway to Las Vegas to get married scenario.

They were married two years before I was born. So why was I put up for adoption by a married couple?

Those are decisions made where I have no consent or influence. I live with the consequences, but they did also.

Currently, I restarted the research of my adoption to perhaps find some answers. Those answers are going to be a little difficult to find considering my adopt took place over 50 almost 60 years ago. My adoption happened during what is termed the “Baby Scoop Era”. Where young pregnant usually unwed mothers were sent away to have their babies and return home without the child.

During this time was the sexual revolution, breaking the bonds of no sex until after matrimony. After World War II, women were experiencing new freedoms previous generations had not been given. But, some of the old rules of no sex until marriage were kept in place, since the only legal form of birth control was a condom. Yet, according to society, it was the woman’s fault if she got pregnant out of wedlock. These children who were born out of wedlock was their mother’s “dirty little secret” and was to be kept a secret for a lifetime.

Photo of babies at an unwed mothers home

In my research, I discovered that the women who gave children up for adoption kept their secret for a lifetime. They never told future husbands, their children or other family members. The only family members who knew of the given up child, was the mother’s parents.

Along with my research, I came across organizations who try to help adoptees reconnect with their biological families. I read the testimonies, one woman who was adopted during the time frame I was, found her biological mother. She was able to meet her biological mother, but not her half siblings. The biological mother was not ready to tell her children about her. The woman also shared, her biological mother never told her biological father about the pregnancy.

These women who became pregnant, went to an unwed mothers home and gave up their child, kept the secret of giving up a child as strongly as my parents refused to tell me I was adopted.

My biological father was an United States Marine at the time of my birth. Today, he is 80ish years old. If he knew of my birth, that I existed, would he even remember? Would his memory be clear? He has lived his life, do I have the right or would it be right to disrupt his golden years with my discovery? What type of shock of emotions if he did not know I existed, to suddenly learn he had a daughter when he was twenty?

My biological mother is deceased, she died before I was 48 years old and seen my adoption records. Her children, my half siblings, do I have the right to put a mark on their mother’s memory? They by all reason were never told of my existence, do I have a right to disrupt their lives?

The most important questions are what do I gain, how would contacting them be helpful for me? Answer some questions about why I was put up for adoption, doubtful. Medical family history, probably not much help since I have lived to be 60ish, doctors feel if I was going to have a health problem was could be prevented by knowing my family medical history, it would have already showed up. My biological family medical history is not necessary information that I need at this point in my life.

I have and continue to live my life by causing no harm to others. Even if the person deserves to get a “beating”, I am reluctant to give the beating. Example, I kicked a cheating boyfriend out of the house by beating him with the couch cushions, instead of the cast iron frying pan he deserved.

I choose to live in harmony and to not disturb the harmony of others’ lives. I can only see if I pursue the research of finding my biological father and half-siblings of causing a rift in the harmony of their lives. The reactions to my existence and possible interaction may cause hostility towards me and disrupt the harmony I have in my own life.

So, for once and for all, I am going to make the final decision. I am not going to not pursue the finding of my biological family. My oldest daughter has expressed a desire to search out my biological family, a desire I will discuss with her as to what the consequences of doing so may be.

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I wish and pray for my biological family to have peace, joy and a good life. I will bury my questions under a rose bush in remembrance of my biological parents and family.


P.S. I plant different rose bushes as remembrances of those were important in my life who are deceased.