During this crazy Covid-time, it helps to connect with family, friends, and others who share a common bond. For me, it’s helpful at times to connect with other adoptees. This article is shared and reprinted here by permission from the Indiana Adoptee Network. It was originally printed in its 2020 Holiday Newsletter.
“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter,and those who matter don’t mind.” –Bernard M. Baruch
It took me a long time to find my voice. I mean, my real voice. The real me. I’m not even sure I know who I am fully at this point in my life. I’m fifty-seven years old.
I grew up adopted, raised in a middle-class, normal(ish) family. I went to college and had a career in the legal field, where I worked as a paralegal for over twenty-five years. I’ve been married, divorced, and married again. I have two grown boys. I even wrote and published a book—a memoir—about my adoption experience, my search for my identity, and my journey to find biological family.
I’m still insecure. I have anxiety. But I know I need to move forward every day. But how?
I took a big leap in 2019 after I published my memoir. It was a big leap for me, anyway. I wanted to share my story with adoptees and others connected to the adoption community. I searched online for groups or sub-communities near me here in Southern California where I could share and talk about adoption. There really wasn’t much locally. I toyed with the idea of starting a social group with a few adoptee friends of mine. But I wanted more—I really wanted to connect. I wanted to learn about the experiences of others and how other adult adoptees were faring in this crazy world. I eventually landed on the Indiana Adoptee Network website. As it turned out, at the time I found IAN, they were getting ready for their March conference. The website was all a-buzz about it. How fortuitous for me.
But wait . . . Indiana? Was it for me? Was I really going to travel over two thousand miles to hang out with total strangers? The workshops looked interesting, and there were going to be other adoptees, but would they welcome me—an outsider from California—into the fold?
At the same time I was considering attending the conference Indiana, my anxiety was hitting me hard. I had just birthed my book and my crazy adoptee story was out there for the world to see (and judge). Who did I think I was writing this memoir about my small experience? Who is really going to care? What if they don’t like me?
I waited until the last minute to register and book my flight and hotel. But I did it—I was all in. And I’m glad I did. What a revelation! Let me tell you, it is really something to be in a room full of other people who just get it. Everyone was friendly and helpful and caring. There was no shortage of sharing and learning. There was yoga, meditation, comedy, and a movie. There was even an art display put together by a super-talented adoptee-artist. That might sound a little strange to non-adoptees—how is “adoptee-ism” a genre? Or a subject? But, believe me, it IS! There is a connection . . . a common thread. Really, more like a common direction, or lifeline. I made new friends and met so many smart and vibrant people that are truly committed to the support and encouragement of adoptees and others dedicated to adoption issues from all angles. My tribe.
2020 is a disappointment, for sure, with the unavoidable cancelation of the fourth annual live conference. I was really looking forward to seeing everyone again, meeting new people, and getting my dose of adoptee harmony. But not to worry, IAN is dedicated to continuing its work to uplift and support those in the adoption community. I hope you are all joining in on the Adoption Happy Hour. It’s such a great way to stay connected until we can meet again.


I’m open, and I hope I remain open, to new experiences, ideas, friendships and people. People change their minds about things, too. People evolve. The way I felt about something yesterday (or ten years ago) may not be the way I will feel about it tomorrow (or five years from now).
For some, finding closure implies a complete acceptance of what has happened and an honoring of the transition away from what’s finished to something new. I guess in that sense, I agree with closure, in theory. I still like to think of my life as a journey—a windy road with all kinds of pitstops, detours, forks, and even potholes. Hang on, it’s a bumpy ride!
I don’t usually make New Year’s Resolutions (okay, I make them, but I never keep them), but for 2020, I’ve decided to be more positive. I’ve made a pledge to myself to be a “glass half full” kind of gal. Don’t laugh.
I have a friend who beat Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma in the last decade. He and his wife could not have gotten through it without positive thinking. It was a life-changing battle for both of them, their families, and friends. I’ve watched in awe as he and his wife faced challenge after challenge with poise and positivity. He had a bone-marrow transplant in 2011. It was successful, but brought with it a host of other complications. He has basically been fighting for his life for the entire last decade. 2019 ended with a double lung transplant, and this, too, has been a success! We had dinner with this couple recently, and I was nearly in tears just watching our friend as he was more animated, engaged, and happier than I’ve seen him in years. Garrett, my now 19-year-old, wants to get a tattoo of a pair of lungs to commemorate our friend’s success in this battle and as a tribute to him as a positive role model. He is an inspiration to us all. The power of positivity.
Another good thing that happened: thanks to DNA, I discovered my biological father! He’s alive and well and I’m so thankful that I’ve been able to meet him and have a relationship with this extraordinary, talented, and smart man. He didn’t even know that I existed. And I gained a sister and a niece and a whole new extended family. It’s been a weird and oddly satisfying journey. Our relationship has evolved in a way I could never have imagined. We have been working together for the last 5 years to seek out hidden truths about his life and (our) family.
My book is doing pretty well. I’m limping along (there I go again), trying to figure out how to “market” it without the backing and support of an agent and a big (or even small) publishing house. Self-publishing is definitely not for sissies.
