Writing for me is not only fun but it’s cathartic. Publishing blogs is a way for me to reach a larger audience with the thoughts that enter my head. I get to be as quirky and vulnerable as I want to be. And, let’s face it, I’m not exactly normal. But then I ponder, is anyone normal? What does that mean anyway?
All I know is that my brain just thinks differently regardless of the subject matter. I question almost everything and overthink WAY too much. Remember studying the bell curve in school? It looks like the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia but without the crack. The majority of the data in any category lies within the massive hump of the bell. Not so much me and my unusual way of thinking. I’m either on the far right of the bell curve or the far left. I see life differently and sometimes, it’s just unpleasant. I wish I didn’t see the dark side of life and of people, but it’s not by choice. That lucky trait was given to me by my step-father back in the 1970’s at the tender age of eight.
Little did I know that my visceral need to share my story making me vulnerable to the entire world would introduce me to the woman in this picture. Brene Brown was on to something when she said we need to get out of the “cheap seats” we are sitting in and be brave enough to put ourselves in the ring where we will undoubtedly be uncomfortable and vulnerable for the world to watch and judge. In her book, The Power of Vulnerability, Dr. Brown asserts “that when we dare to drop the armor that protects us from feeling vulnerable, we open ourselves to the experiences that bring purpose and meaning to our lives.”
This time, it’s not my story. It’s her story. Let me back up a couple of years before I begin this fascinating story of how Ancestry DNA has bizarrely affected my life and forever changed the life of a courageous young woman I didn’t know even existed.
In the back of my mind, I knew I was always curious–I was just too lazy to actually go buy one and take the test. I’ve always had an interest in finding out where I was from but I already thought I knew. Wrong. Life just passed me by so I never actually purchased one until my boyfriend surprised me with one as my Christmas gift. My unwrapped Christmas gift. What? Ok, not really a “gift” as it was an accidental extra purchase of one. He clicked 2 instead of one and thought giving me the extra would easily pass off as his “gift” to me.
Ummm.
Thanks for the thought. Just love the way a man thinks. Regardless, I spit in the tube and sent off my DNA. Didn’t even think about it until it came back and told me I was British and European. Ok. Nothing shocking there. It said one percent miscellaneous. Again. Didn’t think twice about it. It would notify me of new “family” members on my tree. Didn’t really have any interest in 3rd or 4th cousins as I didn’t recognize any of the names. Didn’t even think twice about the fact that NONE of the names were the last names of my maiden name. That probably should have clued me into thinking something was amiss. Either I am completely clueless or in denial about who I am. Or think I am.
Fast forward to a couple of months ago, and I get this crazy Facebook private message that starts out with, “Hi, wow this is going to sound crazy.” Anyone who knows me knows that crazy has a way of rearing its dubious head in my life more often than not. But I’m hooked by her opening line. She ultimately ended that first message with, “I apologize for sending you this crazy yet extremely hopeful message.”
Her 12-year journey of finding her biological family was finally on the right path. Her DNA results told her that her closest relative was me. I was either an aunt or a first cousin. As she frantically searched for any Wanda Means who could be her biological family, she had no idea she would stumble upon people who look like her. It helps to have a vulnerability blog with your name and pictures on it. With the same chin, eyes, hands, same jet black curly hair as my brother, I’m not sure a DNA test was needed to confirm the biological relationship.
After dozens of messages later, we both realized I was her biological father’s sister. The resemblance was uncanny.
So…what do we do now?
How do I tell my brother he has a daughter that he’s never been looking for?
More details to come…
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