The truth is

09/07/2026

Welcome to my newest followers. This is week 5 of a 5 week series on Adoption Trauma. I urge you to look through weeks 1-4 if you are an adoptee or someone involved in the adoption process seeking healing.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐬: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐰
For much of my life, I believed my story had already been written. Not consciously, perhaps. But beneath the surface were messages I absorbed long before I had words for them: Don't be too much. Don't need too much. Be grateful. Don't make waves. Earn your place. Keep everyone else happy.

Those beliefs became the lens through which I saw myself and the world. They influenced my relationships, my decisions, my boundaries, and even the way I viewed my own worth.

I didn't realize I was living by a script I never chose, and many adoptees know this feeling. We spend years trying to make sense of a beginning we didn't control. We carry questions, losses, fears, loyalty conflicts, and survival strategies that helped us navigate life but often kept us disconnected from ourselves.

The Fog convinces us that our past determines our future. Healing teaches us something different.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮
One of the most liberating truths I discovered in my healing journey is that understanding the impact of adoption is not the same thing as being limited by it. Yes, adoption shaped me. It influenced how I attached to people, how I viewed belonging, how I responded to rejection, and how I learned to survive.

But it is not the only chapter of my story.

For years, I focused on what happened to me. Healing helped me begin asking a different question: 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈? That shift changed everything. Because while I cannot rewrite my beginning, I can choose what comes next.

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰
Many people think healing means fixing yourself. I don't believe that anymore. Healing isn't becoming someone different. Healing is remembering who you were before fear, guilt, shame, obligation, and survival strategies convinced you to hide. It's uncovering the parts of yourself that were always there: the curious child, the creative dreamer, the person who speaks up. the person who trusts their instincts, the person who knows they are worthy simply because they exist.

Healing doesn't create a new identity, it reveals the one that has been waiting underneath all along.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫
One of my favorite truths is this: You are not starting over. You are choosing on purpose.

There is a difference. Everything you've lived through matters; the losses, the resilience, the questions, the grief all matter. The strength you developed matters.

Healing isn't about throwing away your history, it's about releasing what was never yours to carry and keeping what helps you move forward.

You can honor your story without remaining trapped in it. You can acknowledge your wounds without making them your identity. You can carry your past without letting it drive your present and your future.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬
Perhaps the greatest rewriting happens internally. Not on paper. Not in a reunion. Not in a DNA test. But inside yourself.

We all have stories we repeat: "I wasn't wanted." "I am too much." "If people really knew me, they would leave." "I have to earn love." "My needs don't matter." Healing invites us to question those stories. Are they facts? Or are they interpretations created by a younger version of ourselves trying to survive something painful?

What if a different story is also true?
- I am worthy of love exactly as I am.
- My needs matter.
- I belong.
- My voice deserves to be heard.
- I can trust myself.
- My beginning does not determine my ending.

The stories we choose influence the lives we create.

As we close this series, I want to leave you with something I wish someone had told me years ago: 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕. 𝑰𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕. You may never get every answer. You may never recover every missing piece. You may still have moments when grief revisits you. But healing allows you to stop waiting for your past to change before you begin living fully in the present.

The woman in the picture stands at a crossroads. Behind her are chains, old records, fear, guilt, and unfinished questions. Ahead is a path illuminated by a lantern she carries herself. That image captures what healing has taught me. The light was never somewhere out there, it was always within me. And it is within you, too.

09/06/2026

Thank you to the I'm Adopted page for giving me space to tell my story. I hope I can create a similar page for people to tell theirs.

Welcome to my new followers. I hope you find growth and healing here.

I was adopted at birth. My adoptive parents were unable to conceive, and I entered a family that was carrying significant grief and loss. My mother was also struggling with trauma of her own, including childhood abuse and the recent death of her mother just before I was born.

At that time, therapy was neither common nor encouraged, and as a result, no one involved was truly equipped to navigate adoption in a healthy or emotionally attuned way. Today, there is a much greater understanding of the lifelong impact that adoption, early separation, and childhood trauma can have on identity, attachment, and emotional well-being. That growing awareness has helped many adoptees, including me, begin making sense of experiences we carried for decades.

When I was three years old, I was told that I was adopted. My parents were preparing to adopt another child and assumed I might have questions. In that conversation, I heard phrases such as, "the woman who had you couldn't keep you." She was never referred to as my mother, and I was never told that she loved me. She was nameless and faceless. That narrative was offered primarily to protect my adoptive parents' emotions, not to support my own understanding or emotional safety.

Not long after that, I experienced abuse, both sexual and emotional, by my mother. These experiences profoundly shaped who I became as an adult. I learned to be a people pleaser, to make myself small for the comfort of others. I sought out unhealthy relationships and came to believe that I was unlovable and unworthy of care. I learned to suppress emotions like grief, sadness, and anger because I was repeatedly told how "lucky" I was to have been adopted.

But I did not feel lucky.

For decades, I carried those beliefs into adulthood without fully understanding how deeply they had shaped my identity, relationships, choices, and sense of self.
In my fifties, I finally began a deep and dedicated healing journey. I sought support through multiple therapeutic approaches, including talk therapy, EMDR, inner-child work, journaling, and psychedelic-assisted therapy. But healing was about more than processing painful memories. It was about rediscovering who I was beneath decades of survival strategies.

Like many adoptees and trauma survivors, I had become highly skilled at meeting everyone else's needs while neglecting my own. I learned to seek approval, avoid conflict, and hide parts of myself to feel safe and accepted. Through healing, I began to recognize these patterns and understand where they came from. I learned that my worth was never dependent on my ability to please others. For the first time, I began living from a place of authenticity rather than survival, making choices based on who I truly was instead of who I thought others needed me to be.

Today, I have greater self-compassion, healthier boundaries, and a stronger sense of identity than I ever thought possible. I have forgiven my abuser, not because what happened was acceptable, but because carrying that pain no longer serves me. Forgiveness became an act of freedom rather than reconciliation. I have learned to honor my grief, speak my truth, and show up authentically in my relationships, my leadership, and my life.

Most importantly, I no longer see myself through the lens of abandonment, shame, or obligation. I see myself as worthy of love, belonging, and joy.

My journey has inspired me to help others who are navigating similar experiences. Through speaking engagements, writing, podcasts, and my online community, I create space for honest conversations about adoption, trauma, healing, authenticity, and personal growth. I share these stories because silence keeps people stuck, while truth creates opportunities for healing and connection.

You can learn more about my work on my website and I also invite you to join my Facebook community, The Truth Is, where I regularly share reflections on healing, self-discovery, adoption, authenticity, and living beyond the stories that once defined us.

If you have experienced adoption-related trauma, abuse, emotional neglect, or simply find yourself wondering why certain patterns continue to show up in your life, please know that healing is possible. The past may shape us, but it does not have to define us. There is hope after trauma. I know because I have lived it. Healing is possible, and there is a rich, meaningful life waiting beyond survival.

- Debbie (adopted from and living in Des Moines, Iowa, USA)

09/04/2026

I keep thinking about how often guilt showed up whenever I tried to change. When I set a boundary, when I asked a question, when I acknowledged a hurt, when I spoke a truth, when I stopped carrying responsibilities that were never mine to begin with.

For years, I assumed guilt was evidence that I was doing something wrong. Now I see it differently. Guilt often appears when we're challenging an old pattern. A pattern that once helped us survive. A pattern that once helped us maintain connection, avoid conflict, or feel safe. The problem is that survival patterns don't automatically disappear when we're ready to grow beyond them. They want us to stay familiar. They want us to stay comfortable. They want us to keep doing what we've always done.

And when we begin choosing differently, guilt often shows up and asks: "Are you sure?"

This week, we’ve learned to ask a different question: “What if this guilt isn't evidence that I'm wrong? What if it's evidence that I'm changing?”

That question has given me permission to become curious rather than critical. To listen rather than react. To choose differently, even when it feels uncomfortable. Because healing isn't about becoming fearless. It's about becoming willing to practice new patterns, even when old ones are calling us back.

And that's where we're headed next week. Not toward perfection. Not toward having it all figured out. But toward possibility.

Because once we recognize the patterns that have shaped us, we have a choice: We can continue repeating them… or we can begin writing something different.

09/03/2026

Leave what was never yours to carry: others' expectations, feelings, reactions...

09/02/2026

Guilt sometimes shows up when we create new patterns. Ask yourself "where is this coming from?"

09/01/2026

Sometimes guilt shows up where it shouldn't, like when we've changed an old unhealthy pattern.

08/31/2026

Last week, we talked about the “O” in F.O.G.: obligation.

The responsibilities many of us carry that were never ours to begin with. The pressure to keep the peace. To manage other people's feelings. To make sure nobody is disappointed. And what often happens when we begin setting those burdens down?

Guilt

For many years, I thought guilt meant I had done something wrong. If I set a boundary, I felt guilty. If I asked a difficult question, I felt guilty. If I acknowledged that something hurt me, I felt guilty. If I wanted answers, I felt guilty. If I talked about my adoption trauma, I felt guilty.

The guilt felt so automatic that I rarely questioned it. I simply assumed guilt was evidence. Evidence that I was selfish, ungrateful, or disloyal. Evidence that I was hurting people.

But healing has taught me something different.

Just because I feel guilty doesn't mean I've done something wrong. Sometimes guilt is nothing more than a wound that learned to speak in someone else's voice. For many adoptees, guilt becomes part of the story early. We may feel guilty for having questions, for searching, for wanting answers, for feeling hurt, for acknowledging loss, for recognizing trauma, for needing something we didn't receive.

And underneath all of that is often a painful belief: "If I have needs, I am hurting someone else." That's a heavy burden to carry. Because eventually we learn to apologize for things that never required an apology like our feelings, questions, boundaries, grief, and even our healing.

I know I did.

There were times I felt guilty for wanting to understand my own story. Times I felt guilty for acknowledging experiences that had impacted me. Times I felt guilty for speaking truths that others might not understand or appreciate.

But the more healing work I did, the more I noticed something. The guilt showed up whenever I challenged an old pattern. The pattern that said I should stay quiet. The pattern that said I should be grateful and not ask questions. The pattern that said other people's comfort mattered more than my needs. The pattern that said keeping the peace was my responsibility. Every time I stepped outside those old patterns, guilt appeared and tried to pull me back. Not because I was wrong, but because I was changing.
Many trauma survivors experience this. We assume guilt is a warning sign. Sometimes it's simply a growing pain. A sign that we're learning a new way to live. A sign that we're choosing ourselves in places where we used to abandon ourselves. A sign that we're building a relationship with our own truth. That doesn't mean every guilty feeling should be ignored. But it does mean we should get curious before we assume guilt is telling the truth. Because sometimes guilt is protecting a survival strategy rather than protecting us.

And that brings me to this week's truth: Having needs does not make you disloyal. Wanting answers does not make you selfish. Setting boundaries does not make you unkind. Acknowledging trauma does not make you ungrateful. And telling the truth about your experience does not make you a bad person. It makes you honest.

So, this week, I want to invite you to pay attention to the moments when guilt shows up. Not to judge it. Not to argue with it. Just listen carefully and ask yourself:

Whose voice am I hearing right now?

Because sometimes the voice we've been calling guilt was never really ours to begin with.

08/28/2026

For years, guilt convinced me that if someone was hurt, disappointed, unhappy, or uncomfortable, it must somehow be my fault.

Next week, we'll explore why guilt often appears when we stop abandoning ourselves, and why feeling guilty is not always the same thing as doing something wrong.

08/27/2026

I used to try so hard to manage other people's reactions and comfort. It's freeing to know that is not mine to carry.

08/26/2026

Knowing the difference between obligation and love = Knowing your worth.