Dear Patricia...

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
~ Maya Angelou
We all have stories...some that we tell over and over again...some that have a lesson for the person we are telling it to...some are pleasant memories..others may not be but we have gained a value from what we went thorough...story telling has been with us forever...and yet, there are stories that some never tell and they bare that story and its agony by them self...

Having reunited with my son and now that the locked box has been destroyed I wonder why I did not share it with very many people...I wonder why I felt such guilt and disapproval about myself...I think back on the feelings of "good and bad"...for people of my generation we learned that at such a young age...you were lumped into those two categories for just about everything...if you followed directions you were "good"...if not you were "bad"...if you did as your parents said you were "good" if not you were "bad"...that could be as simple as eating your peas all up...I was very "bad" when it came to brussel sprouts...I sat many a night at the table long after everyone had been excused till I finally ate those round...cold...hard green things! Funny though as an adult I love them...do you think it might be because no one is making me eat them and I am no longer considered "bad" if I decide to throw a few of them away?! I no longer think of myself in these terms...some of that came with age...but some of it came with the reuniting with my son and the freedom of telling my story. But it is a "good" story...it has a happy ending...not all the stories end this way.

Recently I was told a story about a man who reached out to his birth mother...he had hired a private detective to locate her after years of being unsuccessful himself. It was worth the money to pay some one to do this as he had so longed to make contact. He wrote her a letter...telling her who he was and how he was hoping that he indeed had the right person and if so he would love to hear from her...he hoped that they might be able to share who they are now with each other....he mailed it and waited. After several months of waiting (he was way more patient than I would of been!) and not hearing from her he decided he would call her, to at least get confirmation that the information that he got from the detective was either right or wrong... He made that nervous call, explained that he was calling because he wanted to know if she was his Mother or not...the answer was Yes, she was...but she was not receptive to him...she did not want to have contact with him...he belonged to his adopted family...she had her own family. She told him not to call again.

 It has been difficult for him...he had hoped for a "good" reunion and he did not receive that. He went through a great deal of emotions during the next year trying to come to terms with the fact that not only did his mother relinquish him at birth but she had no desire to see him or talk to him now as an adult...he was relinquished twice by her he felt. Just hearing the words..."you belong to your adopted family" made me have anxieties...Did she really feel as if she had made a business transaction?...does someone really belong to anyone else? Was that what she thought adoption was?

I count my blessings... I breathe a sigh of relief...I am incredibly lucky to have so much love surrounding myself and my son...so much acceptance from our extended families...It could of gone differently...My son often thanks me for being brave and resilient...I never thought of myself that way...I just knew that I needed to know that he had a good life...and that I always loved him...I knew in my heart that he was always a part of me...I could only hope that he would be receptive to that love. Like my thoughts yesterday...searching is not for the faint at heart.

We all have stories that we should tell to release any agony we carry for not telling them.  By releasing them we heal and we grow...