My husband and I rented a cabin in the mountains of North Carolina. I am familiar with these mountains. I grew up on the Tennessee side. I have noticed that when I am on the path that I am meant to take, abundances and synchronicities happen. This cabin was generously given to us to use for a visit to my birth father and sister. The owners of the cabin heard my story and insisted that I stay for free. I was overcome with the feeling of their kindness. 

This cabin was perfect. I walked under an arbor that had vines and fragrant flowers entwined into it. On the lawn, I noticed buttercups. I have always loved buttercups. When I was young, all of us kids would hold the buttercups under our chins and if it glowed yellow, it meant someone loved you. I would imagine my birth family looking for me. Other kids had crushes; I wanted my family to love me.

Seeing the buttercups for the first time in years, they felt like family, each a hug and a kiss that I had missed. I felt at peace, not a sensation I feel often, like cuddling up in a warm blanket and watching the rain with nothing else to do.

My body was happy to be in the mountains. I could breathe better and I was content just sitting and looking at the beauty. Many spiritualists and self-help gurus will tell you, “You only have this moment, so you better enjoy it.” This is a good one: The sounds of the stream below the cabin, the birds, the sun peeking through the clouds, the buttercups. Be, just be, I told myself.

I don’t like flying. Being confined in a small tube and hurled into the air makes me want to flee my body. As I sat there getting ready to board the flight to meet the family that I just found, I realized how scared I was. It wasn’t just the flight this time. It was a life mission. I have to go, I thought, anxiety building like in a dream right before the zombie eats you. The release of the fight and the acceptance of the flight. My fight-or-flight had to accept what was going to happen and that I was flying to get there. Heart racing, palms sweating, I got through the security and onto the plane. This wasn’t my husband’s first rodeo with me. He saw my discomfort and held my hand and started telling me the story of how it’s just like driving down a bumpy road and to breathe. 

The take-off was smooth and I settled in and listened to YouTube videos that I had downloaded. I was thinking about how no one knew I existed when I was born. No one who wanted me, knew. The feeling of anger and pain rose in my throat. It felt like it might strangle me if I thought about it for another minute. The pressure pushed on my windpipe and made breathing difficult. The focus switched in my mind and self-preservation was restored. These body rushes are something I live with. I know anger better than any other emotion. It tucked me in at night and woke me up in the morning. It flows throughout the day like a hormone in my body. It pulses through my veins just like any other life-giving fluid. I accept it as part of me now.

The night before I was to meet my dad, my husband and I drove through the mountains of North Carolina into the Tennessee side. We took a corner and in the middle of the road was a black bear, staring at us. Luckily, no other cars were coming because we came to a full stop. We all looked at each other. My husband noticed that it wasn’t as full as a bear in the fall. It hadn’t been out of hibernation long. Its eyes focused on us, it slowly walked off into the woods. I grew up in those mountains and never came across a bear. Now I am on my way to meet my birth father and here is a bear staring at me. What does it mean? I looked it up and bears are symbols of strength and courage. A good sign.

After the excitement of the bear encounter, we traveled on. The winding roads made my anxiety show its monstrous face, but I also love the mountains. Your body has to make compromises. Mathew McConaughey’s book, Green Lights, played, about the green lights we get in life if we pay attention and take advantage of the opportunities given to us. I was given a green light and was on that path. No amount of body-crushing anxiety clawing and moving inside my body like a predator could stop me now. My path was ahead and I couldn’t let the invader win. Focus on the breath, use it to move the beast from your body. Imagine it walking away like your black bear did. Breathe and see it leaving. I come back into the now. The beauty of the mountains around me and my husband by my side. This is life. Be here, live this.

I was going to meet my birth father and sister for the first time. Badabingbadaboom. Just like that, new family members. I feel like I am intruding on my own family. This wasn’t my choice when I was born but it is my burden to manage. The searching and wondering if anyone would reply to me when I wrote or called the newly found family member was agonizing. I never received that call or letter back from my mother. Some people say things are better off not knowing. My heritage is not one of those things. It is a primal desire from within my soul to know my family. I was part of my mother. While in utero, I planned on us living together forever. I didn’t know that was all the time we had together. If I had, would I have wanted to be born?

This trip had similarities to the last reunion. My sisters from our mother never knew I existed and neither did my father and sister from him. It was thrilling knowing that both my birth father and sister wanted to meet me. My sister seemed so wonderful that I hoped I wouldn’t disappoint her. I still hope I am not a disappointment. That feeling is one of those lingering adoptee feelings that I’m not sure will ever go away. Logically, I know I wasn’t to blame for being given away but my body and mind still remember the trauma of losing my mother. It is in my muscle memory and my mental memory. Feeling like a disappointment comes naturally. Self-confidence is learned.

The heart has a bigger energy field than the mind. We often feel things so strongly that our logical minds take a back seat. Being adopted I need to feel that I am loved because I feel like I wasn’t by my mother. This put me on the path to find my father. I was never allowed to know his name. This felt wrong. 

I took every DNA test I could. I found cousins who gave me a name to look up. I found an address and phone number, called the number and was told he didn’t live there. I wrote the address and it came back. There was a PO box number also, so I contacted the Search Angels and they suggested sending it certified. I got the notification it had been picked up. I waited with anticipation for the response. It came one-and-a-half years later.

My body had gone through so much over that time that I had become another person than the one who had written that letter. I had met my other sisters and had been rejected by one of them. I had calluses on top of calluses from the repeated rejection. I had no expectations. I was prepared for this journey. As prepared as any adult adoptee can be meeting family for the first time in 55 years. I have lived 55 years of my life wondering about who I am. Who do my eyes look like? Why do I like architecture? Do I look like my birth family? There are so many questions that my mind stops thinking logically and goes into self-preservation mode.

Here I am walking in to see my birth father for the first time. Remember to breathe. Move your feet. Keep walking. I don’t feel my legs anymore. Oh God, I can’t stop the tears. Stop crying. Every emotion is flooding my body. Breathe. Time to stand up and walk into the room where you will meet your birth father. One foot in front of the other. Move. Which couch do you want to sit on? Why do I have to make these decisions right now?! I’m losing it. No, you are not! Okay, sit down. Keep breathing. Minutes seemed like hours while I waited.

Then the nurse appeared, pushing this man towards me that I had never seen before. I looked him in his eyes. They were blue, just like mine.