When I first started searching for my biological roots, I told myself I wouldn’t become addicted, I wouldn’t let it consume me. I have learned something about myself in the process. Or maybe I should say, I now see what my family has seen throughout my life in certain situations. I have learned I have an addictive personality. Whether it be relationships, wanting constant compliments, or needing more and more answers when 1 answer should be enough.
In May of 2013, I found my birth mother’s full name. I found her senior high school photo. Then I found out she had died. My father told me, “You have her name, you know what she looks like, you know she is dead, what else do you need?” This is all I wanted, right? After each step I took, I realized I wanted more. Well, once I knew she was dead, I wanted to know how she died. So, I immersed myself in phone calls and internet searches and money orders…again. I received her estate file and in there was a police report with a cause of death. There was also an executor of the estate, nobody related to her as far as I could tell. Now I wanted to know if the executor knew her when she was younger, knew her personality, knew her deepest secrets.
After more internet searches for names and phone numbers, I found out my birth mom had lived a lonely, alcohol filled life, and died alone. Ok, time to put away the detective hat, get back to reality…right? No, I had to find out who had her autopsy report, order it, and then find out who had her remains. Well, a year and a half later, I have my birth mother’s remains in my closet, and I now know she was never sober, her liver was horrendous , she had prior bruising from prior falls, she had some false teeth, and she penciled in her eyebrows. I unveiled everything I was going to know. I should have just let it rest, but I was still searching. I didn’t know for what.
I made the Trip to Texas, to meet my birth mother’s brother, and my two biological cousins. I learned the history of my uncle’s life, I learned he didn’t have anything to offer on his sister, because he didn’t know her. I knew more about her than he did. I learned I had the family walk. I learned where I get my dramatic ways from, why I get so easily excited, and why I love to laugh. I came home, and I felt at peace. I finally felt that I had all the answers I was going to get. I felt that Joan was at peace as well.
There was a high school reunion for my birth mother’s high school class this past weekend. Before visiting Texas, I had gotten in touch with the lady in charge of the reunion, and she said she was going to leave a book out on the table for people to write their memories of my birth mom. I found out yesterday nobody knew more than she was tall and shy. I am ok with that! I don’t feel the need to seek out answers. I had also put in a phone call to a guy whose family had fostered my birth mother. We never made contact. I don’t plan on calling him again. I don’t feel the desire. My addiction has been fulfilled, I finally feel WHOLE.