A lot has happened in my life since I more or less halted my search in order to write about and process my journey so far.
For one thing, I decided to take an official sabbatical from full-time work, knowing myself and my tendency to let business with work mask the truly harder work of dealing with issues in other core areas of my life. So frequently I sweep things under the rug and keep going, and jump too quickly into another way to live my life that I don’t really want. Now, I definitely recognize that taking a break like this is a tremendous privilege, but it’s also not one that I intend to waste.
So, I’m essentially operating off of a loose “Three Phase Plan”:
- Phase 1: Figure out and process the shit out of “Who I Am”
- This will primarily focus on discovering (or uncovering) my “new” roots, and figuring out what that means to me. At the end of the day, I just “Am Who I Am”, and while this search doesn’t CHANGE that, it, along with my taking the time that I need to truly reflect on it, will hopefully allow me to understand, accept, and support it.
- A secondary component of all of this will be digging in and reflecting on my natural strengths and areas for growth, what kinds of things I really like or would rather avoid, and where my foremost passions lie. I’ve spent so much time in my life just hopping on the closest ship that was passing by–and working my ass off while I was on it–but not always being as intentional as I could be about picking the best-fit ship that I wanted, would make me happy, and could still support my life. In order to choose the right ship for you, you need to really know and honor yourself, first.
- Phase 2: Figure out and process the shit out of “What Do I Want?”
- This part is a little more self-explanatory, but I figure that if I simply ask myself what I want before really doing the work and knowing/honoring/respecting who I am (and getting to a healthy place about it) first, I may think that I want things that I really don’t. I might be hiding certain aspects of myself and their own desires, or assume that I just want what everyone else wants (not realizing that it won’t actually make me happy), or even think that I want certain things without realizing that I might not actually be really good at what it takes to have them (i.e. if it’s certain job titles) or enjoy what those things bring (i.e. if I think I want to move to a certain city that, as it turns out, I would be miserable in because I didn’t take the time to ascertain what kinds of things I need in a living environment in order to be happy and feel successful). All of this is the kind of digging that I love helping other people with, but have really never sat down and done for myself.
- Phase 3: Go Get it
In order to give myself the time, space, and environment to do this, I decided to pack up and leave New Orleans, and come back home to the Philadelphia area. While it’s highly doubtful to me that I’m going to choose this location long-term, processing these new aspects of my family and identity has brought out a strong desire in me to be with and near my own family unit while I do it. I need the family I’ve had my whole life as a home base, as my safety and cornerstone, as I branch out in such vulnerable ways. I also need my immediate family to understand that my search to uncover the rest of my roots changes nothing about the permanence of their status in my heart. I’m not looking to replace them, and I’m not trying to run away either–I’m right here. They are and always will be my rock and foundation…almost like a bonsai tree. Ultimately, I wish that I could go on this journey WITH them, complete with their blessing and knowledge that they’ll never be replaced…and maybe in time they’ll be willing to join me…but in the interim, I can at least journey in their presence.
Earlier this summer, I was able to attend our annual family reunion with my Dad’s side of the family–easily one of my favorite times of the year and something I’ve excitedly looked forward to throughout my childhood. I thought it especially important that I be there this year. None of them, with the exception of my Dad, brothers, and Mom, knew that I knew I didn’t share their same bloodline–in fact, only a handful of them ever knew at all. But it was important to me that my Dad knew that I still claim them as my family ever bit as much as I did before–they are the family our hearts chose (and in my case even before I was ever born! even conceived!) The trip was magical, yet also very sentimental for me. All of my Grandmother’s generation had by then passed, but I could still feel them in the old family house and on the grounds. The love that haunted those rooms and filled the air was unspeakably strong–unchanged–but also understood and at peace.
Several weeks later, I received a message from Nicole that the last of the Reilly siblings had just passed away, and probably my last chance at still having a living paternal grandparent along with her. What secrets and answers to questions I’ll never be able to ask were silenced with her last breath? I may never know. If one of the Reilly siblings (at least on that tree) was indeed my paternal grandparent, any chance we had of ever getting to know each other was now extinguished. It’s a different type of mourning–like mourning a ghost–but a real one all the same. I couldn’t help but feel robbed of that relationship, and that they had been robbed, too.
Nothing is a “but” in this situation–only an “and”. Nothing replaces each other. Each grandparent exists and has their own meaning and place in my identity–humans are capable of so much more love than we’re given credit for. Learning of my biological roots just opened up a secret chamber within an ever-expanding mansion.
My Dad drove with me (and my little kitty cat, Pumpkin) as I made the move/road trip from New Orleans back home to Philadelphia.
Several days before he arrived in NOLA at my cousin’s house (where I had been crashing for a couple of weeks after my lease came up), my cousin, (we’ll call her Alicia) and I were sitting at her kitchen table, talking about what an incredible man my Dad is. She confessed to me that she had always seen my Dad as a second father–he had always been so good to her and her siblings, looking out for them through thick and thin. I teared up as she described different examples of ways in which he was really there for them, even though they were actually his family by marriage (on my Mom’s side). She made sure I knew just how lucky I was to have such an amazing man as my father, and I felt so full of love and proud. I never doubted it for a second, but I had never known her story. My Dad had also stepped up big time over the last decade for my Mom’s sister’s family when their father unexpectedly passed. It’s just the type of man he is–reliable, supportive, and full of love–no matter the obstacle. It struck me that my Dad is more of a father than any typical man–he’s filled those shoes countless times, without any obligation by blood, and without ever any expectation of glory. He is a father by choice, for love–true love, in a way that could never be denied.
The trip was wonderful–we stopped in Savannah, Charleston, and Richmond along the way, went on mini-adventures, took turns driving, and talked a bit about life along the way. We didn’t talk much about my family research, believe it or not–but mentioned it a bit in passing. As I mentioned how common I’m finding NPEs to be, he briefly wondered aloud if even he might be adopted. Stranger things have happened. I’m hopeful that we can get to a place where he feels that an invitation to join the gang and get tested, too–since I gave my Mom a kit for her birthday (we’re now waiting on the results) would be welcoming him to his own adventure, rather than feeling shut out from the world of DNA just because of my own discovery. Whether with the family he grew up with or not, he has a history, too, that he can enjoy.
Regardless of the outcome of my soon-to-be-resumed search, and the storms I may whether along the way, I can rest assured that I remain the luckiest girl in the world, one who has been so incredibly blessed in life with the gift of my forever Father, my rock.
