The One Percent

One of the wonderful aspects about spending hours in coffee shops is that you’re able to get lost in your own world and go unnoticed. This is particularly helpful when you hit that ‘overwhelmed’ point, which is exactly what happened as I read the article from my last post. Tears silently streamed down my face in defiance of my will to remain okay and in-control, signaling my heart’s own resignation. As I sat there trying to erase and contain my tears, I couldn’t help but feed myself the highly narcissistic and erroneous line that says “you’ve been a good person, you have to be in that small percentage,” even though I’m well aware that there’s no correlation between the two. It’s entirely out of my control, so all I can do is hope.

A few days ago someone asked me how I envisioned life if I never got married and had a family (which is looking more and more likely). The more I thought about this, the more I realized that the way I envision this life is highly dependent on finding my birth parents and finding those feelings described in a former post:

I want to be able to feel and experience that innate love and acceptance that a mother has for her child; love that doesn’t have to be earned and that you feel will always be there; love that gives you a reason to live and never leaves you questioning whether you belong here. I want to feel right, okay, and whole…like maybe I have a sense of place after all. Words can’t describe how desperately I’m longing to feel these things.

If I find my birth parents, regardless of if I find those feelings or not, I think life could turn out okay; I’d find answers, resolution and/or closure, and be able to move forward.

Not finding them presents a much more grim outlook. Can you imagine living your life without ever finding that kind of love, acceptance, connection, and sense of place? Without feeling whole, right, or okay? And perhaps worse, having to continually be haunted by the gaping question marks surrounding your existence?

I’m not sure if I can.

That’s why I want need, and hope, to be in the one percent…the one percent of adoptees from Holt who are able to be matched with their birth family.

I’m clinging on to this hope with everything in me.

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