Coming back into the fold...

 I have been absent. It has been due in part to life getting busy. Busy with the kids, with jobs, and with living. But that doesn't change the fact that I have stories to tell, well not necessarily stories, but perceptions and observations to unfold for me and share with a couple of people who might feel the same. 

My life has been upside down lately. Over the last few years, we have seen a lot of change and loss. But we have also evolved with the good too. The children are wonderful, growing into amazing and unique human beings and that is a wonderful thing to bear witness to. We have been spending time with our people and just generally loving life. 

However, that love of life doesn't just come with one emotion, but all of them. Autumn is usually a transitional time where things go back to sleep and return to the earth to wait until a spring awakening. It is also a time for reflection and change, and well, our fall was all about that. I had moved into a new position (not by choice but made it my own) and through all of that there was a lot of work to be done. I was also going through the medical paces again with surgery. I was off for most of October as I healed and coped with the new normal of a deviated septum repair. I am also an idiot and designed our home renovation to happen at the same time as my recovery because let's be honest, I don't do easy and at the height of fall, we hosted family at our house, including my sister who drove (yes drove) her very first car to come see us. Doug and I sold property and things lined up that we are in a much more comfortable spot in our lives. It all sounds peachy keen but of course, life has other plans. 

I have always wondered about the term "skeletons in the closet". Why is that a thing? who actually kept skeletons, plural, in a closet? Is this an old mortuary term that became commonplace because they like to keep the dead hidden until it is time? Regardless of waxing on the term, some family skeletons came crawling out to see the light of day. I was told, one glorious fall, leading into a winter day that "Dad is not our genetic father and that we were conceived through IVF". My sister blurted it out, but to her credit, she told me that she didn't feel she could keep it in anymore because I was talking about the genetic testing that has been ongoing since 2020 and how we were entering the next phase. I sat there in the parking lot of Costco completely stunned and without fail I went through the stages of grief like a gunshot; immediate, quick, and with a wake of destruction. I walked aimlessly around other shops and tried to find joy and focus on what I knew to be true, only to rethink every interaction, and every conversation for the last 39 years, repeating that I am about to be 40. My sister found out through doing 23andme and found that she has (then) 34 genetic siblings and that her donor is a guy from Toronto. She advised me that she went to the family and asked questions. She told me that everyone knew and that I was the last to know. I then started digging and discovered to my shock and horror that it was true. I spoke to my cousin Sarah that night and was instantly angry. I felt betrayed and hurt that something so personal, something so intrinsic about me was known by the masses in Bancroft, like they had something hanging over me. People I didn't want to know, people that I hated, knew something private about me without my knowledge. How fucking awful is that? I then spoke to my dad and he explained that mom didn't want us to know and literally took that to her grave. It felt like another spike driven into my heart and it fucking hurt. Hurt that she wouldn't tell me something foundational about me, hurt that I could never talk to her about it because she died, hurt that there was nothing more to the information I could glean from her. My sister said it was a small mercy because the way that we interacted probably would have gone poorly. 

I also called Doug because he was away at a conference and I needed him. I spoke to Andy and Ashley and just really my people and had no words or resolution or even information to provide; just what was known by the masses. The conversation that Sarah and I had was good but hard because I let her have it. She told me that she held onto it since we were kids and that she was here for me now. I told her that it was funny that the only thing I could think of was when she told me I was adopted at age 6 and tried to run away from home. She admittedly had hoped that I would forget that, but I quickly dispelled her of the notion that I could forget a core memory like that and then we laughed. Trauma bonding at its finest. My family started to reach out as the news of my "knowing" spread. I honestly was in a place of hurt and betrayal that I felt cornered and caged. I snapped at family members that I never anticipated snapping at. Having things said to me like, "Oh, I am so glad you finally know, that is such a relief," and me snapping, saying, "for whom, for you? oh, how wonderful that you're relieved that I finally know after being lied to for my entire life. That must be great for you." 

Fast forward to Christmas and I avoided like the plague. Family reached out, I had many discussions and started down the rabbit hole that is learning and re-learning who I am and patching the foundation that now had cracks and in some cases, holes in it. There was a lot to learn and I patiently waited for the postal strike to be over so I could get my DNA kit to unveil the truth. Christmas I got so drunk with avoidance that I was still drunk the next day. To be clear, I never do this so I am fairly certain my sister was relishing in the fact that I was a mess, only because I do my best to hold myself together. It was almost like recognizing that our elders are also human and they can go through tough times, albeit messy, but it was a thing I had to do. 

I can't thank my husband enough for the next day support and the constant support through this. Well we took our DNA tests (Andy, Doug, and I) and we were left with more questions than answers. What I thought was going to yield something certainly did yield something about other family members, just not about me. My maternal side was a tapestry of cousins, half cousins, and my confirmed half sister. My paternal side yielded NOTHING. A 4th cousin named Norma, but that is it. I am no closer to finding answers about that and part of me wants to find out, but I am the type of person that can push for what they want but to the detriment of those around me... I learned this long ago, but have been careful to be respectful about individual autonomy. Dad says he would do the test to confirm one way or another, and I should get him to do it, but part of me wants to live in the dark. We haven't made any decisions yet, but I do know that a couple of my amazing cousins have picked up tests, so I am waiting to see if they show up before we get dad to do the test. 

So that is where I sit... in a movie that I honestly wasn't expecting to be a part of... waiting to see if answers come. Happy 40th to me....