I wasn’t brave enough to post this for Christmas, but it’s nearly a new year so maybe I can add a new strength to being me.
What I’d like for Christmas is not a material thing, sure there are a lot of material goods I’d love but I’m pretty sure Santa isn’t bringing them, actually Santa isn’t going to deliver on what I’d like anyway.
I did consider whether this post was too needy, too down and potentially inappropriate, but it’s my space so I should be doing as I please.
If I do what I am considering then there are potentially others to be hurt, but they could be made up people for all I know, they could be another part of a very long lie twisted to cover up I don’t know what. Sometimes I wonder if I’m an early cloning experiment, yes I am a little crazy.
What I would like for Christmas is the other chunk of my identity. It should belong to me but has never been available, held prisoner by others selfishness.
I don’t expect to be welcomed in to a family that I have been hidden from. But I’d like to know if any of them are a piece of me, if those things about me that just don’t fit with the family I know have something to do with them. Who knows maybe they don’t, maybe I have just me and a quirk of nurture rather than a plot of unknown nature.
Each word I type is somewhat my effort to delay, delay the decision to name names. To put out to a very small (but wonderful) audience the names and scant information that has given me absolutely zero leads.
I’m almost 35 and I still don’t have information that the majority of others take for granted. An only child who apparently has siblings. My mother is overseas and somehow with a physical distance it is easier to ignore the waspy behaviours that plague my conscience after being hammered into my head my whole life. Because I don’t want to be like my grandmother who died not knowing. Because I’m starting to think hiding myself to potentially protect others from hurt is unfair on me, it’s not my responsibility to cover for others sins.
What do I want?
I want an answer and a DNA test, both proof and reason for my existence and why it’s so easy to ignore.
But the thing is there’s no delicate way to put this out there. It seems graceless and crude and that little voice that is inside me is so persistent, always put others first, what a dangerous lesson to have been taught.
But here goes, no amount of attempts at pretty words can cushion pushing this out here.
I was born in May 1978
My name was not the same as it is now.
My mother’s name is Frances
My father (apparently):
Worked for the Gas & Fuel company Victoria. (as did the man who raised me)
Was older than my mother who was 29 when I was born
Had two sons one of whom 10 years older than me, one named Craig (incidentally the name of the brother I was raised with) and another that was either Michael or Matthew.
He was separated from their mother and I am led to believe he has little or nothing to do with them.
He also has another son who is close to age to my eldest child (17ish), with the lady he was / is in a relationship with while having an affair with my mother whose name is Stefanie/Stephanie, I would be surprised if she knows about me and this is part of my hesitation to pull the trigger on this post.
They lived on the Sunshine Coast a few years ago and may or may not have moved to Brisbane.
His name is John Anderson and I do not have a date of birth or middle name to go on.
So you can see where my conclusion that this may indeed be another lie piled on a lie comes from.
It’s out here now, for what it’s worth and what little good it can do. I don’t know that I want a relationship with this person as all evidence says they do not desire one. But I do want at the very least the health information that I’d at least have if he’d been a sperm donor.