Indian Late Discovery Adoptee

Fuck. Fair to say that I've broken down at least once a month at this point. Every now and then, I feel like I'm doing pretty good. And then suddenly the weight of it all comes crashing down. Learning you're adopted in your thirties is overwhelming. Just so much to process. I feel like there's something new everyday. Always something that triggers an emotion. On one of those moments when I finally gathered myself after breaking down, I pulled out my phone, and this is what I wrote: God fucking dammit. Why is this my problem?! They made the choice. They made the decisions! And I'm the one trying to pick up the pieces! I'm the one living this shit! I'm the one trying to figure out my God damn identity! I'm the one trying to get my paperwork from some fucking court and who the fuck else knows that has access to it! I'm the one who got fucked by what was supposed to "fix things" and "save me"! And they don't want to listen and hea...

How do you bury someone that you've never met? How do you bury someone preemptively? Because they may or may not be alive. How do you bury someone that you don't even know if you'll ever meet? Somewhere out there are my mother and father. At least one of them knows I exist. I do care about them. Enough to keep them in my thoughts. Enough that it keeps me up at night. The more I learn about other Indian adoptees that have tried to find their birth families and failed to do so, the more real it seems that I may never find anything. I consider myself to be a hopeful realist. I wasn't even sure that was a thing till I thought about it. And then I Googled it. And it is what I am today. I'm hopeful that I may find my family. I'm hopeful that I'll find answers. But I'm realistic to the fact that it's also a pipe dream. That there are other things in my life today that are more important. I'm realistic to the fact that it doesn’t matter how much time, ef...