DNA Results Are In...

 


Angela and I are not a match. Insert primal scream here.

I spiritually and emotionally prepared myself for it this time more than any other before this. I didn't stockpile Razzleberry pies. I’m not bloated today from binging. I am so disappointed but not slayed. I'm not taking off work. I'll get a lot more done now that I'm not checking DNA results 30 times a day. I'm not laying in bed crying. I'm not feeling as if I want to check out of life and leave this world.  I'm stronger now. This time I'm just taking a big breath and moving forward with everything in life including searching.

Update on the DNA Test: I'm Done Being Knocked Down

 


I got this text today from Angela. (The person who DNA tested for me that I hope is my cousin.) As you can see, DNA results can come in at literally any second now. I am a mix of excited and apprehensive. In my experience as an adoptee, this moment in time where you are waiting on a DNA result is so unique. In one sense, I love this moment because hope is alive. Never do I have as much hope as when I'm waiting for those results. When results come back as not a match as has happened to me numerous times, I do get the feeling for a while that hope is dashed on the rocks into a million pieces. It's that, "oh my God, we are back to square one..." sinking feeling.  In my experience when that happens, hope is slowly regained through the encouragement of others.   

Mental Torture and Not Knowing Who Your Bio Parent Is

 


Yesterday was three weeks since the DNA test was sent in to Ancestry. My friend Regina and I have both been checking for results about 30 times a day. I know the time given is 4-6 weeks, however some people have been known to get results earlier. I just keep the Ancestry app open on my phone, next to me.

This is my week at school, and I’m in the classroom all day long hearing lectures and engaging in class discussion. Yesterday our professor did a magic trick with a quarter, as an illustration. His execution of this trick was stellar, and every student in our class was struggling with moving on to the next topic without him telling us how he ‘magically’ moved the quarter from one place to another. 

He dismissed our questions and went on to  lecture about something else and someone would raise their hand and ask about the quarter. This went on for a few hours. We just wouldn't let it go. The whole point of his illustration was that the curiosity would drive us crazy and we would keep asking about how he did it. And it worked!

Once he had proved his point he said, “Curiosity is a sign of intelligence. Wanting to know is a sign of intelligence.”

I instantly thought, “Hmmm…I must be pretty smart!!” (Bahahahaha!!)

Once he told us the point of this whole thing, which was staying curious and going after what we have a drive to find out, all I could think about is the fact that I believe it’s literal mental torture (no, I am not exaggerating, I really do believe it is mental torture) to not know who one or both of your biological parents are.

My professor sharing about curiosity and the drive to know validated something in me where I was comforted that I’m not crazy. Although it's threatened to drive me off a cliff at times, I'm normal. There is nothing wrong with me. It’s perfectly okay that I don’t want to let this go, that I can’t just let this go.

Just like our class needed to know where that darn quarter was, I need to know who my father is.