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One of the hardest things to experience in life is deception. Deception has many faces and intentions, but do you know one major thing that all deception does? Deception erases. Deception erases the truth, it erases identity, it erases reality. If you Google “to be deceived,” you will read, “To be deceived is to be misled or tricked into believing something that is not true, often due to a false impression or a lie. It involves being caused to believe something false, which can lead to feelings of betrayal and foolishness.” Collins’ Dictionary says, “If you deceive someone, you make them believe something that is not true, usually to get some advantage for yourself.” Reread the end of that last sentence, “usually to get some advantage for yourself.” Deception doesn’t consider its victim's feelings, emotions or reality. Deception solely focuses on how it can maintain the lies and false impressions it creates. After being deceived, how can you show up for yourself if deception erases? When people lie to you, they lie to themselves. They convince themselves they are doing what is best for both of you. But you must remind yourself that God is the author and finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2), and you must be the author of your reactions, next steps, and next chapter. Remember your worth even after deception. I’m thinking of Late Discovery Adoptees and others who have experienced the harsh realities of secrets as I write this. But everyone will be deceived at some point in their lives. Deception is inevitable in many cases, whether by a salesman, a loved one, a friend, an employer, or even an entire country. But your response is the one thing you can control. Remember the Serenity Prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” You can’t change another person’s action, but you can regain your power and maintain your perception of your worth by being conscious of where your value resides. Your worth and value do not rely on how others treat you. Judas lied to Jesus, and that most certainly didn’t make Jesus worthless. Often in movies, we see someone promising a loved one that they will show up for them, whether coming to a sports game, a recital or showcasing a talent or passion. The person doesn’t show, and the loved one struggles to succeed in their specific activity. They may feel that the person who didn’t show up doesn’t see their importance and begins believing they are not good at their activity. This is a perfect example of how someone else’s actions can alter how we view ourselves. Now, the person in the movie usually doesn’t want to continue in their activity or passion, and since their loved one didn’t keep their promise, they were deceived into thinking that the loved one would show up for them. A Late Discovery Adoptee (LDA) is someone who finds out later in life that they are adopted or not raised by their birth parents. No matter how one phrases it, an LDA was deceived into believing their birth parents were raising them. Their truths were erased, stored away, hidden from them for no benefit of their own. Their “loved ones” deceived them for personal gain and not out of pure love. When people say God is Love, it means much more than some people intend it to mean. God is Love is not a phrase limited to being inclusive or accepting another person’s preferences. “God is Love” is a blueprint for how to treat others and yourself. Numbers 23:19 (KJV) tells us, “God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent.” 1 John 4:8 says, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love". So if God is love and not a liar, then Love shouldn’t Lie! And if God is not a liar, but deception is a lie, then deception is not of God. This is why deception packs such a punch: it intends to erase everything God says you are and everything God intends you to be. So when you face deception, you must remember your worth and simply act on it. If you love a sport, you are worth the time it takes to master it to feel optimal enjoyment while participating. If you love yourself, you are worth the effort to enjoy being you. Deception can’t erase what you set in stone. Solidify yourself by intentionally striving for success and happiness even when you feel depressed and defeated. Live an authentic life; you may have been told a lie, but you aren’t the lie; you’re the truth that caused the lie to exist. You’re a truth! You’re the truth! Be your truth! Stay true to your core values and beliefs, only adjusting them for righteousness, accountability and completion purposes. Stay true to yourself even though you may have been lied to. Release the need to react in any way that doesn’t exemplify grace and competency. It’s okay to be upset, hurt or whatever feelings that follow the exposure of deception. But remember who the real enemy is, and know it’s not you! Don’t turn on yourself. Aim to love yourself. Practice it, and then master it. Continue doing the things you love. Engage in the positive things that bring you joy! Don’t let the deception end the story; use it as fuel to strive for a happy ending. Create a happy now! Lean on your faith when the weight of being deceived feels too heavy. Find a therapist or support group that fits your specific needs. This piece is not exclusive to Late Discovery Adoptees; all humans need to remember how vital it is to keep writing your story, especially when lies and deception try to erase your truth. God Bless You! Amelia Renee’ Rea7m (Realm 7), CEO www.ameliarenee.com

11:11 pm If you Google how to love yourself, the first thing you will see is “start by nurturing a compassionate inner voice and practicing self-care, which includes healthy habits and setting boundaries.” (Google, 2025) Yeah, put that to the side for a minute. If you asked me how to love yourself, I’d tell you first to admit what you hate about yourself. We aren’t babies, get raw. Look, I’ll start, I hate how my right eye wanders and closes at the first sight of light. Your turn. Say it out loud if you can; if you can’t, whisper it, let it leave your lips. Get descriptive; be honest with yourself. Here’s another one. I hate how much weight I’ve gained postpartum. Your turn. Have you gone yet? How do you feel? Did it depress you? Did it piss you off? Or did it liberate you? Did it give you a sense of control or fearlessness? After admitting what you hate about yourself, I’d tell you to permit yourself to feel this way! Stop being afraid of you! Perfect love casts out fear, so how can you love yourself when you fear yourself? Have you heard someone say, “I fear the Lord,” but also, “God didn’t give us the spirit of fear?” I lost a friend this way. I told her I don’t fear the Lord (I meant I don’t want to be scared to connect with God), and she assumed I didn’t serve or honor Him. I “fear” the Lord in the form of Reverence! But what she was too religious to understand is that her strong sense of faith was contradicting and potentially confusing. If God didn’t give us the spirit of fear, how can you fear the Lord? (We can blame the confusing English language for this, too.) But the fear of the Lord means reverence, pure reverence and honor. We fear going against God; we bow in his presence in honor. His glory is too glorious to look upon with our naked eyes, but we shouldn’t be fearful or scared of God; we shouldn’t be afraid to know and connect with Him. This is an example of how you should feel about yourself. You may be afraid to lose or harm yourself, you may even be scared to die, but you shouldn’t be afraid of yourself; you should not be scared to connect with yourself. You should have a deep reverence for yourself. (I DON'T MEAN BE A NARCISSIST! I REPEAT, I DON'T MEAN BE A NARCISSIST!) Reverence means a deep respect for oneself. You should honor yourself; this includes honoring what you may not like about yourself. Once you admit, and/or say it out loud, you’re releasing what you hate about yourself, so the hate has no place inside you! So I do fear the consequences of going against God! And I believe He does not give us the spirit of fear; He tells us not to be afraid, not to be weary, even though we still are sometimes. After you admit what you hate about yourself, admit what you fear. I’ll go too, I’m so afraid of mice! Like terribly afraid. How about you? What are you afraid of? Try to say it out loud, whisper it if you have to. Anything else? Oh, I’m so scared to drown, and I’m terrified of ever losing my babies. How about you? Say a big one! Fear has no place inside you, either. Do you feel anything? Do you feel lighter? Do you feel like you’ve released anything? Admit more fears and things you hate about yourself if you have to. Shoot, write it down if you must! Then rip the paper up! You’re releasing it and removing those hates and fears from inside you, because love needs room! LOVE NEEDS ROOM! Alright, now tell me what you love about yourself! For some of us, it was easier to admit what we hate about ourselves. Take a second, what is it? I’ll go first. Let me think. Wow, it’s taking me a while to think of one thing I love about myself! Oouu, I got it! I love my eyebrows, and I’m rather fond of my smile. I love how tough I can be, but gentle as well. I love how the sun shines off my pupils and highlights my beautiful brown eyes. I love my ability to write. I love how I nurture my children. I absolutely adore how I take accountability for my actions. Now, you! Say it out loud! Be proud! Be bold! Be fearless! Be honest! Why? Because no one needs to know and feel how much you love yourself more than you. I’ll offer a disclaimer: in the Bible, Paul tells us not to think too highly of ourselves (Romans 12:3). This doesn’t mean don’t hold yourself in high regard, but it means don’t hold yourself too high over everything and everyone else. You don’t want to be a narcissist, but you want to love yourself the perfect amount! So let’s recap so far! - Admit what you hate about yourself. - Admit your fears. - Release all hate and fear to make room for love! - Remember, love needs room. - Reverence yourself. - Don’t think too highly or too low of yourself. Does this sound complicated? You aren’t something quick and easy, baby! Now it’s time to be intentional. Do things that make you appreciate yourself. Put time and effort into yourself without worrying about who else did or didn’t. Loving yourself is between you and yourself. Don’t be afraid of being alone! You’ve released (or are working on it) your fears and hate. Be mindful that this is a step that you may need to consciously take over and over again. Now we can grab those suggestions from Google that we put aside. “Start by nurturing a compassionate inner voice and practicing self-care, which includes healthy habits and setting boundaries.” (Google, 2025) Since we have begun evicting the hate and fear inside us, it’s time to replace it with love and faith. Removing hate and fear may look like taking the power back from words and lies spoken over us and our lives. It may mean invalidating what your bully said about you. Removing hate and fear may also look like invalidating negative things a loved one told you or even negative things you’ve said to yourself. Removing hate and fear looks like not allowing what was done to you to define who you are or what you will become. Removing fear may look like knowing you will make mistakes and trusting yourself to learn from them. Don’t just cast out fear when you feel empowered or encouraged; keep doing it. And when you’re ready, start forgiving yourself for allowing hate and fear to take up so much room inside you. Forgive yourself for bad decisions. Forgive yourself for ignorance or lack of knowledge. Forgive yourself for those times you felt you couldn’t protect yourself. Forgive yourself for the moments you wanted to quit. Keep forgiving yourself. Loving yourself begins when you can trust that you've got you. Forgive! And talk nicely to yourself! No vanity. Pure love! This may sound like, “I look pretty today.” Or, “Mane, I’m handsome.” It may sound like, “I’m rocking this hairstyle.” Or, “I’m wearing this outfit, period!” Period boo! So once we nurture a compassionate inner voice, we must practice self-care, and I don’t care what anyone says, self-care is not selfish and making you a priority does not have to be selfish! You are your priority! Oxford Language Dictionary says a synonym of selfish is inconsiderate, and inconsiderate is described as “thoughtlessly causing hurt or inconvenience to others.” (Oxford Dictionaries) Baby, if loving me is causing harm to you, the conversation should have been over, hun! If loving me inconveniences you, baby, our schedules will never collide again! Shoot! You are a priority, and you will not appreciate you for not treating you as such! So, next, Google explains self-care as healthy habits and setting boundaries. One thing I learned is that I can’t leave the house without my wallet and my boundaries, baby! Those boundaries are a life-or-death type of serious! Setting boundaries is a healthy habit. Eat your fruits and veggies, drink that water and set those boundaries. It doesn’t matter the relation nor the duration of a bond, cross my boundaries and you’ll be crossed out of my life! Boundaries are your way of telling yourself that you've got you and you are safe! Watch you fall in love with you like you’re your knight in shining armor, I’m talking to the men too! Watch how you come running to protect yourself from anything that means you harm. Show up for you! Have your back! Feeling liked, protected, cherished, appreciated and respected are a few things that cause us to fall in love with other people; let these things be what causes you to fall in love with yourself! Period! Feed yourself well, including foods that are good for you! Take you out and do the things you love! Exercise! Be active! Be fearless! Watch how you start to feel. Nobody asked me, but this is my advice on how to love yourself. One last recap: How do you love yourself? - Admit what you hate about yourself. - Admit your fears. - Release all hate and fear to make room for love! - Remember, love needs room. - Reverence yourself. (God first!) - Don’t think too highly or too low of yourself. - Be intentional! - Do things that make you appreciate yourself. - Put time and effort into yourself - Don’t be afraid of being alone! - Give yourself time! - Forgive yourself! - Nurture a compassionate inner voice - Practice self-care - Make yourself a priority - Adopt healthy habits - SET BOUNDARIES!!! - Show up for you! - And Please, DO NOT BE/BECOME A NARCISSIST! Period! With much love and respect, -Amelia Renee’ “The Soul-See-Ologist” (P.S.: I use the word “yourself” so much in this article!)

You know I wanna think you don’t care You know I wanna question if you’re really there But I’ve seen you I’ve seen you move through the rhythm of the winds as the fall breaks through the bricks of summer. Through the questions in my head that get answered without a say I’ve seen you exist in the palpitations in my chest The way you rock me to sleep when I won’t let me rest. But I still find myself praying that you hear me. I’ve spent so long wanting to be heard by the big people the mommys and daddies. I still pray that you hear the hurt people, the me of the bunch, smiling and flowing, waiting til the next second alone, where I can throw a punch. God, how can I be happy but hurt like this? My heart feels like it’s breaking until I get lost in a kiss. In the arms of the man you designed exclusively for me, rub my hands through his locks now I’m remembering I’m free. As I hold his babies that I bore, they look in my eyes, and I forget the past even more. Eventually, it finds me again when Mommy needs a mommy and wifey needs a daddy. It hits me again. When the television talks about parents, then it hits me. When I still smell mommy’s scent, but it doesn’t match the “mommy” I knew, but the “mommy” that’s new. And I remember that I can’t tell the difference. Been wanting one of them to nurture me for a long time. I’ve felt like a burden ever since. Ooouu, the pain just left. My babies are downstairs playing with daddy. The joy in their laughs reminds me that I’m happy. But I’m happy…now. My past is where my sadness lies. Now the lies pour into my future when I see a different family in my eyes. So this is a poet’s prayer. Lord, I’m praying you hear my heart through this rhythm. God, I ask that you stand in the gap when my heart skips a beat. Just because I’m happy now doesn’t mean I don’t cry in my sleep. When my subconscious gets left with the memory, it’s like mad money, and I’m the one caught shredding the money, trying to do away with the visions of a life back when I tried to do it all without Christ. So this is a poet’s prayer. Hear me roar through the metaphors. For who I was is never again, and who I am is forever more. -Amelia Renee’ Photo by: Max Foster

Who in their right mind would keep a secret like this? Of course, there would be many reasons why someone would allow a human they claimed to love to believe such a lie. Even though it sounds nice when they say the decision was best for us, we, the late discovery adoptees, were never truly considered in the contemplation process. I refuse to believe this was the best decision for my mothers and me. Sounds like I was taken from or given up by my young mother and given to a distant cousin who was a few years older. This older, distant cousin may have been forced to raise me because her being my mother made more sense than an older relative popping up with an infant. This idea is my theory because my family is still actively keeping secrets, and I’m doing my best to sort everything God reveals to me properly. As much as I want to bash them for this decision that I completely disagree with, God has taught me an impressive amount of empathy, even towards those who I feel have caused me hurt or harm. Amidst my Sociological research, I have come across a few historical reasons families don’t tell a person they are adopted; I’ll do my best to have grace and empathy: 1. Era and Social Stigma In the past, adoption was associated with shame and secrecy. Families feared being judged harshly. Some believed adoption made a family appear “incomplete” or “less real,” so they pretended the adopted child was biologically theirs. 2. Desire to “Protect the Child” Families often believed the truth would hurt the child, making them feel different, rejected, or unwanted. Many avoided the subject altogether in hopes of sparing the child confusion or pain. (And yet, most adoptees — especially late discovery adoptees — feel rejected and unwanted regardless.) 3. Fear of Losing the Child’s Love Some adoptive parents worried that the child would stop seeing them as “real parents” if the truth came out. Others feared the adoptee would seek out their biological family and “replace” them. (This reasoning feels rooted in selfishness. Such deliberations place the parents’ emotional needs above the child’s right to the truth. People often tell adoptees that their “real parents” are the ones who raised them, but that is not accurate. Real parents are biological. Still, this truth does not cancel out the genuine, valid, and authentic love that adoptive parents may have for their children.) 4. Advice from Professionals or Agencies Decades ago, adoption agencies and even psychologists advised secrecy, believing it would help the child “fit in.” This advice contributed to a culture of silence surrounding adoption. 5. Personal Denial or Desire for Normalcy Some adoptive parents longed to believe — and for others to believe — that their family was “just like any other.” Avoiding the topic of adoption helped them sidestep their own insecurities or unresolved feelings about infertility, grief, or loss. 6. Cultural or Religious Influences In certain cultures, family lineage is considered sacred, so adoption may be hidden to avoid judgment. In religious contexts, some adoptive parents may interpret adoption as God “giving” them a child, and thus erase reminders of difference by keeping the truth secret. These are just a few reasons that I’ve encountered in my research. Society has become so timid that it’s hard to tackle tough topics as boldly as preferred. We live in a culture that nurtures what needs to be firmly corrected and casts out what needs to be nurtured. Understandably, individuals and families may have experienced things that made adoption appear to be the best option, but the idea of hiding it is never the best option. Hiding an adoption erases the origins of the adoptee. When you hide an adoption, you take the soul of the adoptee and erase everything that doesn’t fit the delusion buried in your ego. Even though your reasons may trigger empathy and understanding, your actions are harsh and open the door to severe trauma once the adoptee finds out the truth. Unfortunately, some adoptees die never knowing that they didn’t know their birth mother. Some adopted families die before the truth comes out, leaving the adoptee to navigate grief, confusion, and an identity crisis. This topic is one of those that is easily explained and understood if you’ve lived it. Some humans have the compassion and empathy to truly grasp what an adoptee may experience when discovering late in life that they are adopted. More information will be available on Amelia Renee’s Substack and at www.ameliarenee.com References Baden, A. L. (n.d.). Study on age of adoption disclosure and long-term well-being . Montclair State University. Retrieved from https://consideringadoption.com/new-study-emphasizes-damage-of-waiting-to-tell-children-theyre-adopted Brodzinsky, D. M. (2013). A need to know: Enhancing adoption competence among mental health professionals. Journal of Social Distress and the Homeless, 22 (3), 211–218. https://doi.org/10.1179/1053078913Z.0000000008 Fetters, A. (2019, July 3). What happens when parents wait to tell a child he’s adopted? The Atlantic . https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2019/07/adoption-disclosure-study/594496/ Fisher, F. A. (1974, November 11). Adoptees liberty movement: On sealed records and identity . Time Magazine . Retrieved from https://content.time.com/time/subscriber/article/0,33009,944769,00.html Jones, A. M. (1997). Issues relevant to therapy with adoptees. Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training, 34 (1), 64–68. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0087657 Levy-Shiff, R. (2001). Psychological adjustment of adoptees in adulthood: Family environment and adoption-related correlates. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 25 (2), 97–104. https://doi.org/10.1080/01650250042000131 Rosenberg, K. F., & Groza, V. (1997). The impact of secrecy and denial in adoption: Practice and treatment issues. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Human Services, 78 (5), 522–530. https://doi.org/10.1606/1044-3894.812 Smolin, D. M. (2021, October 25). Legacy of secrecy and shame in adoption. In S. Shapiro (Author), How an adoption broker cashed in on prospective parents’ dreams . The New Yorker . https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/10/25/how-an-adoption-broker-cashed-in-on-prospective-parents-dreams Wikipedia contributors. (2025, August 15). Adoption-related entries (Closed adoption; Adoption) . In Wikipedia . https://en.wikipedia.org

Life is just a game of tennis; what you serve is what you get. It was a glorious morning playing tennis with my husband and children. I was growing exhausted chasing the tennis ball to each corner of the court. Afraid to give up, I stretched my body and swung as hard as possible, hitting the ball out of the court and into the grass a few meters away. It was then that I felt a release. In my mind, I wasn’t playing against my husband; I was playing against myself, and I was aiming to knock every bad memory, every ounce of trauma, even past hurt, out of the park with no way to find me ever again. Tennis isn’t just a passion used to conquer postpartum weight, but it’s become my response to a past life full of abandoning my passions to fulfill the ego of liars. It’s how I combat past traumas created through an abandoned origin. For too long, I’ve been in a mental match with my old self, drilling unreturnable balls to my heart, confidence, and will. I’ve lost so many matches to myself that losing to someone else could feel like a relief. Imagine yourself head to toe on one side of a tennis court. You probably have your hair pulled out of your face and a hat or sweatband on to keep the drops of effort from pouring into your eyes. Of course, you picked the most comfortable outfit that makes you look and feel good. Your tennis shoes usually match your outfit, and your tennis racket is placed firmly in your dominant hand. You get to the line to serve, throw the lime green tennis ball up in the air after a few bounces to the ground, and position your body to serve the hardest yet accurate serve you can. Then you hear, “Fault!” Darn it, you hit the net. Alright, try again. “Double Fault!” the official yells! Now you just put a 15 on the board for your opponent. You're in your head now. You mumble to yourself, “Come on, get it together.” You receive your next set of balls, and you're set to serve again. You throw the lime green ball in the air a third time, and this time you smash it over the net and right into the serve box. Your opponent smashes it back to the corner opposite you. You try your hardest to catch it before the second bounce. You just missed it. In frustration, you swing your racket, then look towards your opponent. You freeze as they stare back, your opponent is you! You know your every move; you can anticipate your every mistake. The only thing left to do is grow and elevate. Growing and elevating requires more than just hitting the ball harder or faster; it’s about slowing down and defeating the parts of you that defeat you first. What does that mean? Look at doubt; your doubt defeats you before you can enter the game. What about your old habits that don’t serve the new you? Your old self is usually your opponent in life’s game of tennis. You hit back and forth, blow for blow, until one of you scores on the other. Train your mind, your physical and spiritual being, to endure a taxing game of tennis between who you used to be and who you’re becoming. And don’t release your racket until you’ve returned every blow that doesn’t nurture your elevation and growth.

Some connections are written in our DNA, but life doesn’t always give us the chance to grow into them. This is a letter I wrote for the woman I believe is my birth mother—on her birthday. It’s full of hope, honesty, and the ache of years apart. Whether she ever reads it or not, these are the words my heart has been carrying. A Birthday Letter to My Birth Mother After all that God has shown me, I still sometimes doubt that you’re my mother. I see so much of me in you— and you in me— but I can’t get past the rejection. In you, I see the promises of God to a little girl coming into fruition. In you, I see the mother I thought I had to die to find. In you, I see a living, walking, breathing dream I almost left behind. In you, I see a sunrise— enlightening, preparing you for a hectic day. In you, I feel the joy trapped in all the words I’ll never say. ⸻ I just wanted to be a daughter— experiencing a womb connection, that everlasting bond full of nurtured correction. All I wanted was to worship God with you, to feel safe to surrender and be vulnerable. To be proud of your successes. To witness a life that’s truly honorable. ⸻ Since we talked, I’ve rekindled abandoned passions— pieces of me slipping through my fragments, split up, forgotten, minimized to fractions, divided, ignored, canceled, subtracted. Since we talked, I’ve tackled what stalls my healing— advocating louder for my peace, expressing my feelings. ⸻ Since I heard your voice, I can’t bear the screeches of imposters— pretending to be you, resenting the role of my mother. They didn’t have the capacity to care— just the obligation to be there. Never had the tools to fulfill, feeding me hypnotic lies, enjoying the thrill. ⸻ I appreciate those who raised me, but I hate the reality that I was kept from you— You, whom I see when I look in the mirror. You, whom I see when I achieve my goals. You, whom I see when the truth unfolds. You, whom I see when I need to be better— the perfect blueprint of a courageous mother. ⸻ I watch you protect the child you’re raising. Even though it may hurt, it’s an effort worth praising. God tells me stories of you. He uses your testimony to teach me. Reminds me of you when I’m going through. ⸻ After all that God has shown me, I still sometimes doubt that you’re my mother— Praying I didn’t get it wrong, hoping it’s not another. I see so much of me in you, and you in me, but I can’t get past the rejection— Scared you’ll never want me, praying I didn’t get it wrong. In you, I see the promises of God to a little girl coming into fruition. In you, I see home. ⸻ Happy Birthday! —from the girl who hopes you’re her mother…

Sometimes, God will require things of us that we may not respect or agree with, but how will you react? What if your obedience to God would save your entire family line? What if your surrender redeemed multiple generations? What if you were required to do something for God that didn't directly benefit your loved ones? Would you say yes? What if you had to leave behind the very thing that pushed you forward? What if the thing you have been praying to God for existed on the other side of your surrender? What if you let go of everything you knew to become everything you're meant to be? Would you let go? What if I told you some of the first secrets of removing the sting of pain, trauma, and past hurts was to remove yourself? This doesn't always have to mean moving away from your hometown or getting a new job, but what if it meant moving out of the house where you were abused or removing yourself from those who cause drama in your family and even at work? I know a thousand excuses come to mind when you hear moving, shifting, or transitioning. What if your surrender to God required it; would you trust him? God called me out of my family over 5 years ago. I was told it was time to distance myself from certain people, which led to removing everyone I knew outside of my household. Sometimes, separation is necessary. I used to say my most outstanding flex was moving on from those I thought I couldn't live without. It's the truth; I felt I couldn't live without the family that raised me; it's not just that I thought I couldn't; I was manipulated and convinced that I shouldn't. How I was raised, it felt like a sin to desire a life that pleased me without focusing on how it benefitted someone else first. So, I told God, "No." I told the King of Kings and Lord of Lords that I couldn't be obedient because I could not leave my family. I feared they would hate me, I feared they would need me, I feared someone would die in my absence, and I could not disobey my beloved "grandmother." I chose to disobey God to please my "grandmother" and "family." I couldn't repent enough, especially when God showed me his command was protection, not just isolation. I struggle to share the entirety of this testimony, one because of my irritation with the lies and defamation I experience, but also because I want to tell my truth without shunning my loved ones and exposing my "family." I repented for many reasons, one being that I was serving my "family" over my God. They were so focused on themselves that they were exalting themselves over God. If God told someone to leave their surroundings to take up their cross and follow Him, who are you to make them feel bad for their obedience? Family and friends can quickly remind you what they desire of you or were able to expect from you, but not many people can identify and respect our obedience to the One, True, and Only God. Yes, you may be our mothers, fathers, or the people who raised us; yes, you may be our siblings and friends, but Jesus Christ is Our God, and how dare you expect us to deny him to appease you? Anyone who thinks otherwise is not my cup of tea. God commands us to serve no other gods before Him; we should serve no other gods but him; there is no other God but Him. If you don't believe that, it is not my job to argue with anyone about their personal beliefs. Free will is genuine, so respect mine while you demand your respect. And that can be a serious problem with loved ones; why can't you "Respect my Surrender?" God asked something of us, and eventually, we obeyed; why shun us for choosing to surrender to the will of our creator? The opposition is borderline demonic... For many reasons, some of you reading this may have to separate from where you were raised. Some of you may need encouragement to do so. Please do not think I am out here convincing people to leave their families; that minimizes my purpose. I am trying to lead you to God. Duh! Some of us have been raped, lied to, abused, defamed, manipulated, abducted from our truth, hurt, and so much more by people we refuse to separate from. It doesn't have to just be about family; some of us must separate from friends, exes, habits, hometowns, ideologies, expectations, and traumas. The man I thought was my father asked me something that changed my approach to everything. I complained about the people who raised me, and he asked, "Why do you keep dealing with people you claim have hurt you so badly?" I stopped and thought briefly; that was the last time I talked to him. Why do we do it? It's like cigarettes; you know it's killing you, so why keep smoking? It's because you identify some form of comfort even in the harm. This is deep, isn't it? How can we find comfort in pain? Reoccurring pain becomes a part of our normal, whether we realize it or not. So, because it's familiar, you stay around things and people that cause you pain. Forgiveness is also real, but do you know that you may still need to distance yourself from those you forgive? Hopefully, you forgive them, but it's still okay to take space when it's warranted, especially when it's commanded by God. Shoot, you can distance yourself from those you don't have any form of beef with. There are so many people I have no problem with that I distanced myself from, but in this moment, my surrender was my removal from a spotlight built around me. My surrender was my obedience to God's commands, no matter how hard or weak I felt. My surrender was a yes to God's will and way, even if I wanted to say no. It can be difficult to ask someone to respect a decision that goes against their desires. Sometimes, God will require things of us that we may not respect or agree with, but how will you react? What if your obedience to God would save your entire family line? What if your surrender redeemed multiple generations? What if you were required to do something for God that didn't directly benefit your loved ones? What if your surrender was the next step to the reception of God's promise? What if your most cherished loved ones didn't respect your surrender? Would you still surrender? What if it isolates you? What if you get dogged out for not doing what they prefer or agree with? Do you respect your surrender? It's easier to submit to the things we respect. Submitting to a parent, spouse, or anyone we don't respect is harder. Do you respect God? Do those you may leave behind respect you? Do you trust God? Do you and the people around you honor God? Surrendering to God's will may look different to everyone. We are individuals; everything about us is unique, including our personal relationships with God. One person's surrender may involve cigarettes, while another person's surrender may involve porn. One person may need to separate from things that hold them back, while some need to separate from the things that hold them up to teach them to depend on God! Your surrender could produce submission, while someone else's surrender could produce discipline. Merriam-Webster says surrender is "to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand." In a spiritual sense, we surrender our egos and expectations, our control, and demand to trust God with the outcome. We surrender our fears; we yield to God the power, control, and possession that fear, ego, anxiety, expectations, demands, agendas, other people, and ourselves have over us. We don't throw in the towel; we take a knee. We take a breather from whatever it is we can't control, maintain, manipulate, handle, or fix, and we give God the driver's seat, knowing this is the absolute best option. We surrender our will, meaning God's plans trump ours. Maybe you planned to live in a particular place for longer or forever; your surrender would look like you allowing God to move you where he wants to move you when he wants to do it. Maybe you had your occupation planned; surrender would look like you submitting to the purpose God aligned for you, even if it was never on your radar. For me, surrendering meant no contact with everyone I knew just because God said so. When I first surrendered, I thought I knew why God wanted me to do it; boy, was I wrong. The bombshell on me made sense as to why my loved ones wanted to keep me within arm's reach. If I hadn't surrendered to God, I would have been stuck in a place I genuinely didn't want to be but was manipulated to stay. I surrendered to God and watched the defamation of my character from a place of peace. I understood the things I could not explain. I found peace in the deepest parts of my being that I thought the light couldn't touch. God revived the dead dreams and wishes I buried beneath my trauma. My surrender will look different than yours, my outcome will look different than yours. But my testimony can empower you regardless of what part you resonate with. Whether you need to leave some things and people behind or whether you need to leave your plans on the drawing board, be empowered to surrender to God and respect your choice even if others do not. I respect my surrender; do you respect yours? -Amelia Renee' "Soul-See-Ologist"

A faith-based guide to enduring life’s endless attacks “Jacket On, Jacket Off.” How many times have you asked, “Why me?” How many times have you questioned your circumstances, “How much longer?” A few days ago, I watched a church service online. Before the speaker came to the pulpit to preach, an older woman gathered a choir to sing. As I watched, I noticed this woman throwing a ridiculous amount of shade at the younger choir director. It was so bad that I cringed. Her behavior was inappropriate and uncalled for. But the young choir director held her peace. She stood her ground and was gracefully defended by other elders who weren’t bullies. And she went on to direct the choir with her chin up and shoulders high. As I watched, I was furious. I’ve brought it up to God several times during our daily chats. The older woman’s actions were so unnecessary—and it frustrated me deeply. Mostly because I’ve experienced that same treatment far too many times. In both the world and the church, some older people are cruel and dismissive toward younger people. They put us in boxes, generalize us, and downplay our growth and spiritual journeys. Not every elder is like this, but there’s definitely a chunk who are. These are the people who refuse to respect you as the adult you are. No matter how grown you are, they can’t help but treat you like a child. But this isn’t the main point of this message. As I poured my frustration out to God, His response hit differently—it wasn’t what I expected. He reminded me that yes, this has happened to me many times, and it may happen again. But what’s most important is how the young woman responded to the disrespect. Yes, the older woman was completely in the wrong—but the grace and maturity that radiated from the younger woman spoke volumes. She humbled the older woman without saying a word. Then God whispered to me: “Jacket on. Jacket off.” Every day I find myself talking to God about the same things. I keep bringing up the times I’ve been lied on, lied to, disrespected, left hanging, abandoned, ridiculed—the list goes on. I find myself wondering why God allows it and how much longer I’ll have to wait for vindication. His response? “Jacket on. Jacket off.” And I knew exactly what He meant. Have you seen the Karate Kid remake with Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith? Jaden’s character, Dre, moves from Detroit to Beijing with his mom. Some local boys start bullying him because their leader likes a girl who likes Dre. Then Dre meets Mr. Han, the apartment maintenance man, played by Jackie Chan. Long story short, Dre begs Mr. Han to teach him Kung Fu. He’s seen Mr. Han defend himself with expert skill against the bullies and wants to learn how to fight back. But when training begins, Mr. Han simply has Dre do what his mom had been begging him to do all along: pick up his jacket. Pick it up. Put it on. Take it off. Hang it up. Drop it. Repeat. Over and over again. Dre becomes frustrated. He wants real training, not this endless repetition. He even tries to skip bringing the jacket one day, but Mr. Han sends him back to get it. He even holds an umbrella over Dre as he trains in the rain. One day, fed up, Dre explodes. Mr. Han calmly says, “Jacket on.” Dre flings it over his shoulder in frustration, but Mr. Han grabs the jacket and says it again, firmer: “Jacket on.” Dre mimics the motion without the jacket. Mr. Han corrects his posture, telling him to be strong and firm. Suddenly, Dre begins to move with precision and skill. Without realizing it, he had been building muscle memory all along. And just like that, it hit me. We complain about the length of our trials—but have you ever stopped to see how much you’ve grown? How many times has life come at you hard, and yet you responded in strength instead of defeat? As a believer in Jesus Christ, I know our enemy despises our devotion to the one true God. I’ve faced spiritual attacks that left me feeling isolated and broken. But lately, I’ve noticed something different. When the same attacks come again, I respond with more bravery. More wisdom. More grace. Why? Because it’s muscle memory now. God allows trials to build character that reflects Him. They give us spiritual stamina. They prepare us. As Paul reminds us in Romans: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ… Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame…” —Romans 5:1-5 NIV “Jacket On, Jacket Off” is God’s way of saying: There is purpose in the repetition. There is glory in the grind. If we face trials with grit and hope, we’ll realize that His promises are yes and Amen . We’ll notice we can hold on longer. We’ll discover that we won’t lose our minds when we feel like we should. So, keep hoping—for that one thing only God knows you’ve been praying for. Keep hoping for the reconciliation, the breakthrough, the healing. Hope does not put us to shame. When the going gets tough, you’re not going to quit—because you’ve been here before. You’ve trained for this. “Jacket On. Jacket Off.” Now, when you defeat the enemy—when you break addictions, generational curses, and spiritual strongholds—it’s going to be muscle memory. When the enemy tries to bully you this time, you’re ready. You’ve prayed. You’ve cried. You’ve read your Bible. You’ve called on Jesus. You’ve kept your head up and pressed on. And now, when life’s weight finds you again, you’ll know exactly what to do. Calling on Jesus is muscle memory now. Praying, opening your Bible, and walking in peace—it’s all muscle memory now. Dre couldn’t see the plan, just like we often can’t. We get annoyed with God. Some of us even turn away because we’re tired of the same old cycle. But let me encourage you: You wouldn’t eat a cake that isn’t fully baked. Just because it looks ready on the outside doesn’t mean it’s ready on the inside. So you put it back in the oven—to finish. To be made complete. God is still baking you. Let Him. I know you may feel ready for the blessing or breakthrough. You may even look ready. But let God prepare your whole self—heart, soul, and mind—so when He gives you what you’ve been praying for, you’ll know what to do with it. You’ll be able to sustain it. I’ve been praying for reconciliation with the man and woman I believe God told me are my birth parents. But God had to first heal my inner child. He had to correct my attitude so I wouldn’t sabotage the very thing I begged Him for. He had to renew my mind and mend my heart so my trauma wouldn’t bleed onto the fulfillment of His promise. “Jacket On, Jacket Off, Amelia.” God reminds me: My waiting is not in vain. My trauma is not my identity. My faith is not useless. Let this message encourage you. No matter what you believe, we’ve all been through something heavy. We’ve all needed a miracle. We’ve all been tired. We’ve all been weary. JACKET ON. JACKET OFF. You already know how to fight. You’ve already defeated things like depression, anxiety, suicide, addiction, rage, and so much more. So FIGHT. Don’t let life break you. Don’t let the enemy bully you. Let God forge a victory path in your spiritual muscle memory—so when you need it most, you’ll know exactly what to do. “Jacket On. Jacket Off.” God bless you, in Jesus’ Name. https://bible.com/bible/111/rom.5.1-5.NIV https://substack.com/@byameliarenee/note/c-142978907?r=62efl2&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action

“You ain’t even my child!” Her words pierced me like a sharpened sword heated over the hottest coals. My mother wobbled up the cold block in the early hours of the night. The only things awake were the streetlights, casting small circles of light on the dark street every few meters. Her drunken aura frustrated my already restless mind. We weren’t even arguing or disagreeing when she blurted out those forsaken words—a few months after my 21st birthday. “You ain’t even my child!” The phrase kept repeating in my head as I tried, tirelessly, to get my drunk mother safely into the house. It had all started about an hour earlier. I was in my room at my grandparents’ house when I heard a commotion. My grandfather stormed out. My grandmother explained to me that my mother was having one of her “fits” over her younger ex-boyfriend. I shook my head in frustration. Many people had no idea my mother was a drunk—including her. I expected a big blowout when my grandfather and mother returned, but he came back alone. He explained what had happened to my grandmother, who was growing more and more frustrated with their grown child by the minute. My mother had gotten out of the car and refused his help. My grandmother asked me to go get her, and I hopped to it. I hurried down the dark street and found my mother a few blocks away, across the main avenue that stayed relatively lit. I walked her home, listening to her cry and try her best to explain her hurt. “You don’t know what they put me through. Nobody knows what they’ve done to me,” she sobbed. Growing more empathetic—and scared—I did my best to usher her up the street toward home. She kept stopping in the middle of the road, snapping, getting louder. I just wanted to get her home safely. I was fully prepared to stay up all night with her, just to listen. I began begging her to keep walking as she grew more hysterical. I had a bad feeling about being outside so late. If trouble didn’t find us, the cops would—and there was no telling what she might say or do in front of them. “Mom, please come home. We can stay up all night and talk. I hear you, I do,” I pleaded, desperate to keep her moving toward safety. She kept ranting—obviously drunk, but also clearly hurting—and I empathized with her. So I pulled out my best card: the mommy card. “Mommy, please come home. For me,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. She took a step back, looked me up and down, and with a curled, aggressive sneer said, “You ain’t even my child!” I froze. The way she looked at me alone triggered a self-defense mechanism. But this was my mother—I wouldn’t dare hurt her or leave her alone like that. “Mom, come on!” I demanded. In my heart, I’ll never believe she didn’t know exactly what she said the moment it left her lips—especially when she saw the hurt smash across my face. My chest hurt so badly. After everything I had been through with this woman, hearing— in that moment —that she wasn’t my mother could have destroyed me. I finally got her home and into bed, doing my best to help her avoid any further altercations with my grandparents. I remember a few days later, I asked my grandmother why my mom would say something like that. My grandmother grew angry—not the kind of angry that protects, but the kind of angry a liar gets when their truth is exposed. She and my mother argued about it, and the issue quickly disappeared. I worked hard to forget about it. I wasn’t in a mental space where I could carry that truth, even if it was the truth. Maybe I brought it up privately from time to time, but I never mentioned it to my mother again—until almost eight years later. God revealed a woman to me who I looked way more like than anyone in the family that raised me. Not only did we resemble each other—we liked the same things, did the same things, and shared very specific health conditions. The kind of health conditions that are passed down genetically—usually maternally. When I connected with—and was later denied by—that woman, I reached back out to the mother I knew. I spoke to her woman-to-woman about the feelings I had surrounding this new, painful belief that she wasn’t my biological mother. She didn’t fight for me the way I had hoped. Maybe she thinks she did—but to me, she sounded more conniving than convincing . I finally asked her directly why she said she wasn’t my mother when I was 21. She had the nerve to say she never said it. It was heartbreaking to watch the family I knew fall back on the same old gaslighting and manipulation tactics they used to raise me. “I did not say that,” she insisted. “Please don’t lie to me. I’ve worked too hard to forgive you for saying it in the first place,” I said, holding my heart in my hands—cutting my fingers on its broken pieces. I called once more after that to wish the family a Merry Christmas and express my love. In obedience to God, I haven't spoken to them since.

What/Who Is a Late Discovery Adoptee? A Late Discovery Adoptee (LDA) is a person who discovers they are adopted or raised by someone other than their biological parents later in life. Doctors and psychologists suggest a child should be made aware of their adoption truth as soon as possible, starting as early as the ages of three to five. It’s understandable that children may become ready to receive this truth at different ages, but it is highly recommended to tell a child well before the age of 12 for psychological and ethical purposes. A Late Discovery Adoptee is usually an adult when they discover their truth, but some teenagers may resonate with the LDA community as well. ⸻ How Does One Discover They Are an LDA? The majority of the time, an LDA may come to hear their adoption truth by accident, in an argument, through discovering health or medical conditions, or even through DNA results. There is a misconception that adoptees should feel nothing but gratitude for being adopted. It is ridiculous to tell someone how they should feel, especially under these circumstances. Their grief over being lied to is not meant to overpower their gratitude for being raised. “It is a human and God-given right to know your birth origins, no matter the situation.” Even if the mother was sexually assaulted, too young, unwed, or in any other scenario, the child always deserves to know the truth of who their parents are, no matter how it may make the parents look or feel. This doesn’t mean the parents shouldn’t be offered grace and compassion. Yes, mistakes happen, but don’t cover up a mistake like this by denying someone their truth—especially about something as important as their birth. This may be hard to hear, but it is cruel to allow a person to live every day believing a lie. ⸻ The Age of DNA Testing The age of Ancestry.com, 23andMe, and other ancestry DNA testing sites has exposed generations of lies and family secrets intended for the grave—meaning that these families were never intending to tell their supposed loved one the truth. It’s noteworthy and essential not to overlook the many success stories of adoption, where adoptees are blessed with wonderful parents and families who truly love them and share their truth from the beginning. There are also families who were great to adoptees who are LDAs. It’s a shame to have a great family who lied out of fear of losing you or to protect the reputation of the family. ⸻ How Can This Affect the LDA and Their Families? So many beautiful families are at risk of being destroyed over a secret that could do serious damage to the LDA. For some LDAs, the road to healing after discovering a huge portion of their life is a lie is extremely tedious and challenging. Many LDAs experience mental health issues that can result in outcomes as serious as suicide. Grief, anger, disconnection, shame, embarrassment, and a host of other emotions are expected when unpacking such a dark secret. Even though an LDA may know exactly who they are as an individual, not knowing where they came from can ignite an identity crisis. Keeping a secret about someone’s birth and lying to them about their origin is the equivalent of rewriting someone’s truth without their consent. These adoption secrets were successfully kept for so long usually because not many people knew the truth, or because those who did know kept a pact to maintain the secret. They normally try to convince the LDA and the mother that the decision was for their own good. They may have truly believed they were doing what was best—but it’s not. Keeping a truth like this is no simple thing. And even though some relatives may die before the truth comes out, that doesn’t mean the secret is never exposed. These truths can resurface at funerals and other family gatherings. Sometimes, when people begin to pass away or get very old, the truth slips out. There are even instances where an LDA’s child or grandchildren have exposed these truths long after biological and adoptive grandparents have died. ⸻ Why Didn’t the Adoptive Parents/Families Tell the Truth? Many family members take these secrets to the grave for completely selfish reasons such as: • They don’t want to deal with the truth coming out. • They feel the adoptee doesn’t deserve to know. • They don’t want to expose their secret. • They’ve become adapted to the lie and don’t want their life to change. It’s hard to pinpoint exact reasons for every individual because humans are different, but when dealing with these specific categories of people, the excuses and actions usually follow a similar line. ⸻ How to Confirm One Is an LDA? Some LDAs discover that their adoptions were not legal, so there may not be a paper trail to confirm any suspicions they had before the discovery. And yes, in many cases, there were suspicions that something wasn’t right. Why? Because you can’t fake a genetic connection. The soul is not as easily deceived as the flesh. In many cases, the child who would eventually identify as an LDA was passed on to be raised by distant relatives. In some cases, LDAs may have been raised among their biological parents but led to believe they held a different role—such as siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors, etc. Even though there may not be a paper trail—such as an original birth certificate or adoption papers—there are still clues that have led LDAs to discover and/or confirm the cover-up. Delayed birth certificates are one of the biggest clues when exposing such a secret. In America, for approximately the last 60–70 years, all birth certificates are to be filed within 10 days of birth. A later date could mean corrections were made, such as spellings or other errors, but when combined with other clues—like no birth pictures or proof that your “mother” carried you—it’s a telltale sign of adoption, legal or not. Also, in the instance of being passed to other relatives, the parents who raised you could be legally listed on your birth certificate even if they aren’t your biological parents. This could explain a gap between the filing date and your birthday—because the families had to get their story straight. There are many possible reasons for a gap on your birth certificate. This wave of LDA discoveries is unique and delicate, and experts are still uncovering how things were done. Other ways to confirm one is an LDA include: • DNA testing • Applying for an original birth certificate (not all cases are within families) • Asking around • Doing your own investigation • Following your heart DNA testing can be the most efficient, but relatives can hide their DNA matches, which makes it harder to decipher family trees. With DNA results, you can build family trees and reach out to matches if the truth is not as obvious as hoped. Some of these situations may be easy to confirm, while others may take more effort. ⸻ How to Cope With Discovering Such a Truth Different people will have different experiences that lead them to feel a wide range of emotions, which can weigh heavily on their mental and physical health. Trust issues, anxiety, depression, attachment issues, relationship struggles, and more are all part of the long-term effects of finding out late in life that your parents aren’t your biological parents. Therapy, LDA support groups, and piecing together the truth are some ways to help LDAs deal with the shock and sting of their situation. A huge warning to LDAs: this revelation may not always be met with warmth. Adoption reunions, especially those involving LDAs, don’t always go as hoped. Some parents do not wish to reconnect with the LDA and may feel offended or cornered when approached. It’s vital to be mindful of your emotions and boundaries. As much as an LDA may feel they deserve the truth, it’s important to consider what others may have experienced on their end of the secret. Some LDAs cope by cutting contact with the family that raised them, whether permanently or temporarily. Some families with a healthy, safe dynamic may work through it one day at a time by apologizing, sharing the truth, and even going to family therapy. Some families with less healthy dynamics may not handle things as smoothly, especially if they are reluctant to tell the truth even after the LDA has discovered it. Never allow anyone to make you feel small for uncovering something so serious. Never let anyone downplay your emotions—period! You deserve to know the truth, and you deserve the support needed to maintain your physical and mental health. This is not easy to deal with, so be kind to yourself, to those who have found out the secret, and to those who kept the secret. ⸻ How to Forgive in a Situation Like This “Forgiveness comes easier when the heart is not as heavy.” There are layers to forgiveness. You may want to move forward but still need your pain acknowledged. You may want to show compassion but also receive it. You may not want to forgive at all—and that’s okay too. Remember: forgiveness is not tolerance.You can forgive and still choose not to maintain a relationship. Forgiveness means: • Recognizing the harm done • Choosing not to let it define or consume you • Not allowing hate or resentment to take root in your heart The Bible speaks to this in several places: • Colossians 3:13 (NIV): “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” • Matthew 6:14–15 (NIV): “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” • Ephesians 4:32 (NIV): “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” We forgive, not because others deserve it, but because we need freedom from what they did. Forgiveness often needs to be revisited, especially when pain resurfaces. In those moments, remind yourself that forgiveness doesn’t erase the past—but it helps loosen the grip it has on your future. To forgive your family: • Try to understand how fear and shame may have driven their decisions. • Accept that you may not have made the same choice—but they were human, too. • Forgive them for your healing, not for their comfort. Whether you maintain contact or not, make peace with yourself. That’s the real freedom. Article Written by Amelia Renee’ Illustration Art by Helen Hill.

Have you ever heard the phrase, “You made your bed, now lie (or lay) in it?” This phrase tells someone to take accountability for their actions or to follow through with a commitment. My mind began assembling this piece while making my children’s bed and tucking them in for the night. My trauma can sometimes peak when the sun is going down and right before bedtime, when everything slows down. As I tucked the sheets into the corners of my babies’ beds, I tried to escape the reality that my “mother” rarely, if ever, tucked me in, and she never made my bed. There was a bed she did make, though. My perception will sound like ungratefulness to the unimpacted, but I will proceed regardless. Referring to the phrase, “you made your bed, now lie in it,” I realized the woman and the family that raised me did precisely that. The bed I slept in was never made for me as a small child, nor was I ever tucked in, but a bed was made, a choice was made, and they “lied” in it. Decisions were made, secrets tucked into the corners, cover-ups and deception placed over the truth, and tucked away with intentions of taking the truth to the great beyond. What hurts me the most about potentially finding out my mother isn't my birth mother is, somewhere buried deep in my chest, I always knew. There were moments in my life when I would stare at my mother, asking myself, “Who is she?” My heart had whiplash from constantly looking left and right for the mother I never stopped hoping would appear. When I finally began to admit that I had a mother but didn't feel like I had a mother, I was called ungrateful. I was commanded to be grateful for what I had, so I settled. On my 27th birthday, my husband and I drove deep into the mountains and stayed in a beautiful suite for a few days. The night before my birthday, we saw the latest Thor movie, “Love and Thunder.” I was a big Thor fan, but I disliked this series installment. There is a scene where Thor stands amongst other false gods who expect to control him. When Thor wasn't a puppet, they stripped him of his clothing, exposing his body to hundreds of people. My stomach knotted, and I instantly became nauseous. After the movie, we didn't get out of the parking lot before I was hanging out of the car door, upchucking in pain. That's how I started my 27th birthday, releasing trauma on the side of the road. It reminded me of a feeling I had many times as a young girl. I would be standing amidst the family that raised me, feeling so naked and exposed. I specifically felt naked and exposed amongst the women who raised me. It was a feeling like no other. I would look down at my clothes, rubbing my hands against the fabrics to ensure I was still clothed. I would sweat and say “huh” a lot. I eventually realized I said “huh” so much because I was constantly being interrupted from daydreams and thoughts of a place I truly belonged. I sincerely love the family that raised me. Do I appreciate everything they've done to me? Heaven's no. Do I appreciate the good they've done for me? God knows I do. But I spent so many nights lying in an unmade bed that rarely ever felt like home, daydreaming of a mother I thought I had to die to meet. And I've spent almost three decades tucked away in a bed of lies, fitting into a frame orchestrated to keep me in bondage. Like a fitted sheet tucked into a bed frame, I was the sheet, covering up generations of trauma. I was framed and lied on just in case I ever awakened. Not only did they make poor decisions, but they continued to lie with no intention of ever telling the truth. I’ll never be perfect, but I’ve always been good, and I never mean any harm. I make mistakes like every other human, but I deserve better. For decades, I dreamt of mothers laying my head on their lap, rubbing my head, and singing “I will always love you.” When I settled with the cards I was dealt, with the only family I knew, I did it gracefully, agreeing to always love them for who they were, even if I didn’t truly feel loved. I know other people may have had it worse, and many people will stick with their ideations of how things in my family looked on the outside. That's why incorrect opinions of my reality don’t matter to me anymore because they hold no weight and can never change the trauma I’ve survived by the grace of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I ended my 27th year completely different than how it began. I finally graduated from college after an 11-year battle to finish. I saw Janet Jackson live in concert. And I was also diagnosed with a T.I.A mini stroke. Doctors and Neurologists who saw me in the E.R. were convinced it was a mini stroke, a Neurologist I saw a little after my hospital stay was convinced it was complex (severe and chronic migraines). The doctors examined me and asked, “What happened before these stroke symptoms?” I admitted that I may not know who my birth parents are. The nurses tucked me in and told me to rest. To be continued.

(A short story of a mother’s heart and a sister’s bond) (For three decades, she carried the silence like a second skin. No one knew about the child she bore, the life she thought had ended before it began. But secrets never stay buried—not forever. This is the story of a mother’s hidden grief, and the miracle she never dared to pray for. Two young cousins loved each other as sisters. They lived over 500 miles away, but spent as much time together each year as possible. Dana was a year older than her sister-cousin Jenna. Dana lived down south, and Jenna lived up north. Dana and Jenna had many incredible adventures together. They would take turns visiting each other during summer vacations and holidays. As they grew older, they grew closer. They made great memories that would last a lifetime. One summer, while visiting Jenna up north, Dana met Andrew. Andrew was much older than Dana and Jenna, but Dana lied about her age, making him think she was much older than she was. Andrew and Dana spent much time together alone when Jenna was in dance class. When Jenna returned, Dana told her about Andrew and how much she liked him. Jenna was genuinely happy for Dana and Andrew even though she never met him. Jenna and Dana continued to enjoy their time together. When Dana returned during the Thanksgiving holiday, she met up with Andrew, and they were intimate. Dana didn't tell anyone, including Jenna, because her parents were strict and she knew she shouldn't have done it yet. After the Thanksgiving holiday, Dana returned home and then to school. A few weeks passed, and she began to throw up and feel unwell. Her strict parents started to question her illness. Her mother took her to her pediatrician for answers. After testing, the doctor returned and asked to speak to Dana alone. Her mother refused, asking the doctor why her 14-year-old daughter needed to talk to the doctor alone. The doctor asked Dana if he could discuss anything with her mother, and she agreed. The doctor then asked Dana if she was sexually active. Dana said no. Then the doctor looked confused, and then asked Dana if she could have been touched without her consent. She said no. Her mother then asked what was going on. Then the doctor looked at Dana and said, “You're pregnant.” “She’s 14 for Christ’s sake! How can she be pregnant?” Her mother shouted. “Please, ma’am, lower your voice.” The doctor pleaded. “Did anyone touch you without your consent?” The doctor asked Dana again. She looked over at her mother, who was fuming. “I’m sure.” She said, lowering her head in shame. The doctor discussed the next steps with Dana and her mother and sent them home after planning her next appointment. When Dana got in the car, her mother freaked out. “How could you do this to me, Dana? Your father and I are trying to give you a good life, and this is how you repay us?” She yelled at Dana. “I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t know.” Dana cried “You didn’t know what? That sex can lead to pregnancy? Or you didn’t know you would get caught? Wait until your father hears this!” Her mother shouted. “Please don’t tell Daddy,” Dana begged, afraid to no longer be Daddy’s little princess. When she got home, Dana was sent to her room. Her mother told her father, and he was furious with Dana. Everything changed for Dana. Her parents didn’t trust her anymore; she couldn’t go anywhere alone and could no longer do the fun things she loved, including spending time with Jenna. Dana was devastated. She didn’t know what to do. Abortion was not an option because her family was against it, and she was too far along anyway. She was homeschooled the rest of the school year, so no one knew she was pregnant. Her parents kept her away from the rest of the family, so no one knew she was pregnant at 14. Her parents kept pressuring her to put the baby up for an adoption, a closed adoption where she would probably never see her child again. Dana refused to give her child away. She didn’t even get to tell Andrew she was pregnant; she never got to see him again. Eventually, in July, Dana gave birth to a baby girl. She held her briefly, and then the nurses took her away. Dana kept asking for her baby. “Where’s my baby? She cried. Eventually, her mother returned to the room and told Dana the baby didn’t make it. “What do you mean the baby didn’t make it? The baby was just fine!” Dana cried. “I know, honey,” her mother said, hugging her. Her father just stared at her, unsure and uneasy. Dana’s life was never the same. She always struggled in July, feeling alone, grieving her child. She wondered if it was her fault that the child didn’t make it. A part of her didn’t believe her baby didn’t make it, but she never spoke about it. She hushed it up and convinced herself this was her punishment for having sex so young and unwed. Dana never spoke about her baby. She was forced to move on as if it had never happened. Her parents never brought it back up, and the traumatic event became part of a memory that she buried deep, so deep that she began to forget as she got older. Dana returned up north to visit Jenna the summer after she had her baby. They hadn’t seen each other in about a year. They resumed their adventures as older teenagers and made new memories. Jenna told Dana about a guy who flirted with her, but she never got his name. A few years passed, and Jenna and Dana were still close. Dana went to college down South but felt a strong pull up north. She figured it was because of Jenna and never considered it. Eventually, she surrendered to the pull and moved north when she was of age. Dana lived her life trying to make a difference. She loved children but didn’t have any of her own. She missed home, but enjoyed being up north. Dana and Jenna became young women, exploring life and adulthood together. As time went on, Dana and Jenna both found themselves struggling with health conditions that left them both without children. Then, one day, Jenna told Dana she wanted her to meet the guy she was dating. She agreed, and Jenna left the room to fetch her new love. When Jenna returned, she looked at Dana and said, “Dana, this is Drew, Drew, this is Dana.” Dana looked up, and to her surprise, it was Andrew, the father of her “deceased” child. “Andrew?” Dana said. “Hey, wassup, Dana? How you been?” Andrew replied with a big smile on his face. Dana and Andrew hadn’t seen each other since she returned home after Thanksgiving break over 10 years ago. She made it her mission to avoid him and has never spoken of him until now. “Y'all know each other?” Jenna asked, confused. Before anyone could answer, Dana asked Jenna if they could talk privately. Once in private, Dana said to Jenna, “That’s Andrew!” Unsure of what she was referring to, “Yes, it’s Andrew.” Jenna obliviously responded. “No, that’s Andrew, the guy I told you I liked years ago when we were younger,” Dana explained “Oh no! That’s Andrew. Omg I forgot all about him. I’m sorry, Dana, I must break it off with him.” Jenna cried. “But you really like him; I’m okay with it if you are,” Dana said, hugging Jenna. “I do like him, but I can’t let this break us, I can’t.” Jenna cried “It was so long ago, there are no feelings between us.” Dana tried reassuring Jenna. “You liked him, Dana, you did. Did y'all ever kiss or anything?” Jenna asked. “Well.” Dana hesitated. Jenna stood waiting for an answer. “We had sex that year, and I never saw him again,” Dana explained. Growing angry, “he ghosted you?” Jenna asked Feeling all the emotions and shame rushing back, Dana took a breath. “I ghosted him.” She answered. “Why? Did he hurt you?” Jenna asked, growing concerned now. “No, no. He was cool. One, I didn’t tell him my true age, and two, because I got pregnant by him and our baby died shortly after I had her. That’s why I took a break from coming out here to see you, because my parents hid the pregnancy.” Dana shamefully explained. Jenna gasped and hugged Dana immediately after she finished talking. They hugged for a minute until Andrew asked from the other room was everything okay. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute,” Jenna yelled to Andrew in the other room, wiping her eyes. “I have to break it off, Dana.” Jenna continued whispering to Dana. “Please don’t. He doesn’t even know about the baby.” Dana quietly added. Jenna gasped, not sure of what to do. “You gotta tell him,” Jenna said sincerely. “Can you?” Dana asked. “I can't say it. I can't even think about it.” Dana added, tears filling her eyes. “You sure?” Jenna asked. “Please!” Dana pleaded. She left to let them talk it out. She couldn't deal with reliving that moment. Later that night, Jenna called Dana, but she didn't answer. She secluded herself from everyone, feeling the weight of a pain she once buried. She took a few days for herself. Eventually, she answered Jenna’s call and agreed to come to her house. Andrew was there when she arrived; Jenna and Andrew both hugged Dana. Andrew apologized for not being there and admitted he didn't know she was so young and they were cousins. Andrew and Jenna discussed ending their relationship out of respect for Dana, but she declined. She appreciated that they respected her feelings, but didn't want to get in the way of their love. She watched them and saw how much they loved each other. They didn't know each other and had no idea they knew Dana, so she didn't feel betrayed. She did like him in her youth, but she moved on long ago and told herself she would be okay with it. Years went by, and eventually, Jenna and Andrew got married. Dana was even in the wedding. Things were great for the newlyweds, and Jenna even got to keep a bond with her sister. Things got rough when Jenna struggled to have children with her now-husband, Andrew. Andrew vowed to stay by her side. It sometimes hurt Andrew that he didn’t have children of his own to celebrate Father’s Day with, but he never blamed his wife. After a while, Jenna and Andrew adopted their first child, a baby girl. Then they adopted another child and named her after Dana and Andrew’s baby girl, who didn’t make it. Soon after, Dana had a baby through IVF, and Jenna allowed Andrew to help fertilize the egg. Jenna refused to overlook or forget the baby that passed away over 20 years ago. “I can’t let her die.” Jenna constantly thought to herself, feeling the guilt of Dana losing a baby, and she wasn’t there to help her. She also felt the weight of her own infertility journey. That's why she agreed to name her second daughter after the baby girl who passed away, and allowed her husband to fertilize her sister's egg. It is unclear how the decision for Andrew to help Dana have a baby through IVF came to be, but it was very much shunned by the few relatives who knew. The conception of Dana’s new baby was kept a secret amongst the few who knew. Disclosing who fathered her babies was not something Dana felt comfortable with. Only Dana’s parents, Jenna and Andrew, knew Dana was pregnant at 14, or so she thought. Dana had a son 21 years after secretly having a baby at 14. He was precious to her, and she loved him dearly. To protect their secret, he knew his father, Andrew, as his uncle, who married his aunt Jenna, his mother’s sister-cousin. Jenna and Andrew’s daughters know Dana’s son as their brother-cousin, not because they know their father is also his, but because of Dana and Jenna's bond. Things were good for Dana, while Jenna secretly struggled with the reality that Dana gave her husband the biological child that she wanted to give him. However, her heart wouldn't let her look at the child funny; she loved him. This secret struggle put a strain on Jenna and Dana’s relationship. Jenna knew how hard it was as a woman struggling to have children; she could only imagine how hard it was to be a mother who lost a child. So she found peace in her decision to help her sister have a baby. Dana had yet to find her husband, and she was getting older than the childbearing age when Jenna and Andrew helped her have the baby. Jenna struggled knowing that Dana gave Andrew the biological child she couldn't, and Dana struggled that Jenna gave Andrew the complete family that she couldn't. Dana doesn't romantically want Andrew, but it hurts her that she cannot give her son a mother and a father. His father was always there, but he knew him as his uncle. Time went on, Jenna and Dana stayed close to each other, their children grew closer, and Andrew was there to see it all. Their family makeup was working for them. Then something hit them all very hard. An almost 30-year-old woman called Dana and asked, “Are you my mother?” Dana immediately denied the young woman; there was no way she could be this woman’s mother if her baby had passed almost 30 years ago. The woman claimed to look like Dana and said God sent her to Dana, so Dana asked her to show her. The young woman sent a picture to Dana, and Dana froze. This young woman looked very much like Dana. “I see the resemblance,” Dana said to the young woman. But I can't be your mother, honey.” Dana continued. Confused as to how they looked alike, the young woman offered a follow-up question. “Can we be cousins?” she desperately asked. “No ma'am, I'm the oldest.” Dana was the oldest of her generation, so she figured no way anyone else could have parented an almost 30-year-old; it wasn't possible. She politely finished her conversation with the distraught and confused young woman and blocked her. A few moments later, a blocked number called. Dana instinctively answered it; the young woman suggested that Dana had not been honest with her. Dana grew offended and threatened to have the FBI look into this young woman. They argued a little, and Dana told her to leave her alone. After hanging up on her this time, Dana called her mother furious. She told her mother about the call and expressed her frustration about the young girl insinuating she was a liar. Dana’s mother was speechless.” I don't know what to say, Dana,” her mother said. Her mother’s reaction made Dana uneasy. She quickly ended the conversation with her mother and sat in silence. Looking at her phone, she stared at the young woman’s number, lost in thought. Then suddenly she felt that pull she felt almost 30 years ago. It couldn't be. No way. A few weeks passed. Andrew and Jenna were at an event inside a school, and this young lady came in and caught their attention. After their event, they speak to this young lady. Andrew asked her about herself, and she told them she was on a journey to find her parents. Andrew began asking her more questions about her age, where she was from, and how she ended up far from her home. She told him she had been led to this place, was almost 30, and was from Andrew's hometown. Andrew felt this young woman favored him and wondered if he could have unknowingly fathered a child in his youth. He was unaware she had already contacted Dana, claiming to be her daughter. “I could be your dad,” he blurted out. She wasn’t expecting him to say that and didn’t know how to receive it, so she made him aware that she wasn’t insinuating that he was her dad and that she thought God had sent her to him only to get help. Over time, Jenna and Andrew began to get to know this young woman. There was a bit of confusion when Jenna and Dana finally discussed it. They all saw the similarities, but who is this young woman, and how could she be Dana’s daughter if Dana’s daughter passed away? They wondered if she was there to mess with them, scam them, or cause chaos, so they all dismissed her. One day, Dana was talking to her mother about it, and her mother told her she needed to tell her something. “Dana, when you were 14 and you gave birth to that baby, she didn’t die; we secretly sent her up north to live with some distant relatives. We thought it would be easier for you to move on with your life; we thought it would be best for you. There’s a chance that she’s her,” her mother explained. Dana dropped to the floor, praying to God, “Jesus, I can't take this. God, please don't let me die.”