In response to The Daily Post’s weekly writing challenge: “Digging for Roots.”
Growing up I never really felt as if I fit in. I was raised by my grandmother while my dad was in the navy and my mother followed him. Due to this I spent time with them but did not have the time to begin relationships before moving on. Because of this I became a loner and tended to do more of things that didn’t require other people.
The only friends I really kept longer than a year was the few relationships I had while in middle school.
As an adult I have began to wonder more about who I really am.
My mother was adopted. We have recently obtained her adoption records but have had no luck in finding her mother prior or since her adoption in 1952. We have both parents name and only families ideas of who this woman was.
I intend to do the DNA testing through ancestry to see if I can gain some sort of idea. Regardless of this I feel a connection to her adopted mothers family. It will absolutely tear me up if I ever find out I am not really a part of that family.
In the past few years I have connected with my dads family and am currently finding my place in his family. But I have a need to find my mother’s biological family because of the traits that have been evident that came from her side of the family that haunts me and my children.