DEFINITION OF ME

The definition of me is something that I am struggling as I continue my search. My list of 82 year old men born in 1918/1919 and died in 2001 is finally shrinking. I am getting closer to finding. It is a time consuming project. I have decided that this final push will be the last of it. No matter if I find or not. I do think that I will. I have a small list going with only four people on it out of 2500 to 3000 people. I have maybe another 300 names to go through. I don’t think I will find too many people to add to that list. I will probably call the towns that these men died in to get their obituaries. I was told that the entire family was listed in the obituary. I am also going to print all the names of people that were born in 1933 and died in 2002 in Ohio. Birthfather’s name is on this list somewhere. All I know is that it is an unusual name. I have no idea what the heck that means. I do know what is unusual name for me might not be unusual to someone else. An example is my stepfather’s name is unusual for Texans but not for Wisconsin folks.

So I might as well print the entire list down. Once I finish the grandfather list then I will work on that list. All I know is there is a same name on the Indiana list. Its time consuming but it seems to work. Right now I do feel that I am being defined by my search. I hate that. Someone said that adoption tends to make adoptees feel like victims. We all feel defenseless and powerless. It was also said that our search is about gaining our power and defense back. I think that they are so right.

I often think about the conversation when I do find. I know that it will be very emotional for me. I know that I will cry but I will try my dangness to not though. If we ever do meet in person, I know that I will need some form of defense. I do feel raw when it comes to this stuff.

I also do notice when you tell people that you are adopted. Two things happen.
Oh have you searched for your birthfamily? The other thing is that a part of them just shuts down and they look at you with a stupid look. I get that wherever I go. If it doesn’t affect them personally, then they are just not interested. They just don’t care. No compassion or empathy. They just move away from me quickly. Go figure.

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