The next few weeks were kind of hard for me. I believed I was adopted more and more yet I still didn’t have any real proof just my gut instinct and a few odd facts. It didn’t help that it was December which is usually a very difficult month for my family. My father died on December 15, 1986 at the age of 29 from skin cancer. I was 5 years old at the time but I remember so many things about him including the events of the day he passed away which makes it a difficult day in a normal year. I also had my son’s first birthday and of course Christmas to contend with so I put things off.
As soon as the holidays were over I started doing some research online trying to find Marriage or Divorce records of my mom’s hoping that would give me Mike’s last name. Of course things back then were not entered into computers and once they started using computers they didn’t add those records in. I don’t live in the same town that they got married in so taking a trip to the courthouse was not an option with a three year old and a one year old. I also started doing research on how to find your adoption records, which is not an easy process. It requires a court order which in most cases it is nearly impossible to get.
By this time I was starting to become angry. All I wanted was the truth and it should be so easy to get by just asking my mom, but I couldn’t. If I was right I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle that and I didn’t want to be the one to push her over that edge and back into a depression again after just working her way out of a very dark place. I was also starting to go through and identity crisis of my own. I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore. For me that was very strange because I had always been so confident in who I was as a person. I loved being able to know what I wanted and then going and getting it but this time I knew what I wanted but I couldn’t get it. It was very difficult for me to talk about all of this with anyone except Dave and Steph. I felt like they were the only ones that really understood me enough to understand what I was going through but even when I would talk with them I still felt alone in this situation. I constantly found myself wondering why? Why didn’t my mom tell Mike she was pregnant, why did my dad adopt me, why hasn’t anyone ever told me, why me, why, why, why.
I knew if I wanted to find myself again I was going to have to find the truth in all of this, but how?