As an NPE, it has been easy to feel lost as a default. Easy to question… everything: meaning, identity, self-worth, authority, rights, direction, intuition. Second nature to grieve the lack of parental alignment - the feeling that I was never meant to exist, and we all (parent and child) know it - and that this means I am less. Less loved, less capable. Less.

Without mentors, I would likely have believed that message for the duration of my lifetime.

Enter Trey Carey. A high school counsellor at an alternative school. He pegged my eating disorder and called me on it within the first half hour of knowing me. After nearly dying of a heart issue, he began again in this career of supporting us troubled youths. He routinely faced taboo stuff with us head on - substance abuse, sexual assault, teen pregnancy, adoption, and so on… But one thing was always clear. He LOVED us. He genuinely believed in us, and none of the circumstances that brought us to the alternative school would stop that. He made sure we knew we were accountable, capable, and full of possibility. He radiated hope. (even when we let him down, which we did regularly.) I’m a youth counselor today because of him.

Next came Brent Cameron. He introduced me to embodiment, organic learning, and the power of loving acceptance and presence. He made me a better parent, and opened my eyes to the knowledge that an infinite amount of learning exists for each of us.

Lori, waltzed in and showed me what it looks like to be an embodied mother and woman. How it feels to trust my body, and the bodies of others. What it is to talk to and tend to plants. To see and feel them as medicine. One of the most present people I’ve ever known. She is magic.

Mickey appeared to teach me pottery at a time when I needed it the most, in the year before discovering my misattributed parentage. She too, dropped little nuggets of wisdom as a way of being. Guiding me to see how the principles of clay are reflected in every other aspect of life. She gave me enough skills to begin my own studio. When I had my discovery, it was the lifeline that kept me afloat.

None of these mentors had direct lived experience with misattributed parentage, at least not that they spoke about. But each of them provided the natural magic that comes with embodied presence, vulnerability, openness, and hope. Did they know what they were doing? Do they know I think of them often? Recalling their wisdom, tone, and ways?

The mentors that followed discovery had some connection to adoption work, or the therapy field. They are champions of belief in others. Exemplifying humility, hope, and empowering presence. Mentorship has been one of the most corrective experiences throughout my life. These precious people showed me another way of being in this world. They forever changed me and gave me a collection of touchstones.

Madeline was the first to present me with a pivotal question: Could I call to mind someone in my life who embodied safety? A warm soft presence? Like a grandmother? Could I call to mind in great detail this person, and hold the feelings and sensations of being with them? I could, and I did. And soon enough her question would present itself in real time. When I was with a warm, kind person. Or when I was down, and I could call them to mind. So many of the people that came to mind were the people I mentioned in this article.

What would Trey say about this? Or Brent, or Madeline? How would their tone express their internal dialogue? What would they ask me? Would we laugh or cry?

This is why I had to write about mentors, because they have been invaluable to me. each one showed me firsthand, pieces of who I wanted to be. A creative, a therapist, a kind presence, intuitive woman, a champion for others.

Trey, Brent, and Madeline all left this world too soon. I often find it mysterious how these gorgeous, gifted, lights often do. May we all have mentors as precious as I have, and may they live long.

If this resonates, my gentle invitation to you is to keep your eyes out for a mentor. This doesn’t need to be someone of similar lived experience or beliefs. This is someone who is open, present, and believes in you. They may have a skill or craft to teach you, or they may be happy to simply sit and watch the clouds float by, curiously.

With love ~ M

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In two months, my first book launches. The baby I’ve worked on for five years. She was SO hard to write, but I kept remembering how I felt in the moments following the discovery that my dad was not my genetic father. The utter disorientation. The shattered identity. The infinite struggle to find safety; impossible because it meant desiring both closeness and distance from the very people who hurt me. but I wrote anyways.

I wrote and I worried. I joined writing groups. I hired more than one editor. I drew diagrams. I worked with Clients recovering from similar events.

I WENT THROUGH EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER WITH MY MOTHER, because I didn’t want to cause her more trauma, and also wanted to tell even the very hard truths. (which I do.)

I dug through layers of family secrets and shame for years to create this. and I did it for past-me. For the version of me that needed this book in 2013 when my world was rocked. Next I wrote it for anyone who was struggling with a similar experience. Yes, for you and your support people.

The finished manuscript is with my editor, formatted. The cover has been created and polished up by my daughter Olivia Carriere.

Others informed me that promotion is important. One can no longer simply write. (whatever that means.) One has to make CONTENT, to connect with others - to be visible. How many writers naturally want to be visible? I’m genuinely curious. because most of the creators I know really have some mixed feelings about this.

So now I write about the book that I wrote. and make videos about the things I talk about in the book. Because ultimately it can’t help anyone if they don’t know it exists.

But then again. I imagine her as growing her own two legs… or maybe more. Yes, she will go on her own journey. She will travel and find her people. A part of me really knows, she will be successful even if i don’t strive. I really hate striving. I balk, I resist.

“Post minimum three notes a day for substack'“

“Schedule posts for youtube”

“Use the trending music”… how about no.

Does anyone else feel like it’s just making MORE NOISE?!

The internet has become SO noisy. And I don’t want to contribute to the noise. I want to contribute to the art, the healing, the community. I want to post only what makes the world a better place. because all the noise just shuts me down. I don’t want it.

Am I alone on this?

If you’ve made it this far, thanks! I see you, I appreciate you. <3 I’m having a bit of a day. So rather than writing one more article about the MPE experience, this one is about being an author in a noisy world.

Much love as always ~ M

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I thought long and hard about whether to, or how to write this. Ultimately, it’s my two cents on the estrangement conversation. I decided to write it because the NPE experience is often adjacent to estrangement. Caregivers, both genetic, and non-and communities have conspired together to keep a giant secret to our detriment. Often denying the harm caused and refusing to take responsibility or attempt to make a genuine repair of the relationship.

All hell breaks loose. Parents and caregivers defend themselves, often denying the truth, continuing to lie, sometimes refusing to provide additional information. Conflict is rife. Many MPEs give up, feeling that communication is pointless.

This is at least one recipe for estrangement.

On the other end of the spectrum, are families who appear to continue as though nothing has changed; A behaviour which is its own kind of denial - leaving the NP alone with their feelings and internal conflict. Under the weight of an unspoken expectation to hide what has happened and perpetuate the lie.

It’s no wonder relationships become strained and estrangement is part of the conversation!

Rather than speaking about estrangement specifically, what I’d like to talk about is using wisdom when being vulnerable. Many MPE’s fear vulnerability, and run from it following discovery. Many note that this leads to feelings of loneliness, anxiety and depression; many express a desire to be open with others about their experience and their feelings, but fear that they will get hurt or that people won’t know how to support.

These are all reasonable feelings, motivated by a desire for emotional safety.

It took me many years to come up with a strategy around us this. And it’s not perfect, but here is the invitation.

1. Call to mind a person, this doesn’t have to be a member of your raised family, but eventually it should be.

2. Next, I want you to notice how your body feels when you think of this person. I want you to notice any tension or warmth, coolness, and so on.

3. Now, I want you to call to mind past situations where you’ve been vulnerable with this person. Zoom out and see how many situations you can bring to mind.

4. I want you to look for a pattern in how this person responded. Are they routinely dismissive, or empathetic? Do they offer comfort, emotional or financial support? Or do they ask you questions? Do the questions seem motivated by genuine curiosity and care? Or something else? Did you feel understood or that they wanted to understand?

5. And here’s the big one, do they kick you when you’re already down?

I’m not talking about the occasional bad mood or off day. I’m talking about a pattern of hurting you when you’re vulnerable, when you’ve expressed a need or a weakness.

I’m not saying to keep track of people’s mistakes or injuries, I’m not saying to hold onto things and not forgive. I am saying to learn from people‘s behaviour patterns.

If the person you’re thinking of has a pattern of hurting you, when you’re vulnerable, have asked for help or comfort, or have shown weakness, this person is telling you they’re not a safe person. Especially if they don’t take responsibility or try to make amends. This can be a hard truth to swallow. And it’s OK to grieve it, the relationship and care you wish could receive from them. But I want you to notice what they’re showing you with their actions and then know that you have the choice of what to do with that information.

In my case, I notice the pattern. And I do something to document that this is an unsafe person, this may be a journalling entry, something explored in therapy, a work of art, the point is I do something to move that energy and materialize the fact that this person is not a safe person to be vulnerable with. Next, I hold myself to that standard. If you’re a people-pleaser like me, that may feel or sound harsh, but the truth is they’ve had many second chances, haven’t they? What are they doing to they are trying to change?

Most importantly, you matter. And I matter. And we make that true when we keep ourselves safe. We deserve to have people in our lives who comfort us when we’re down, just like we do for them.

This doesn’t mean I cut the unsafe person off. Unless it’s one of those cases where I do, the point is, I have a choice. And so do you. More often than not, I reduce contact, and I eliminate vulnerability. I don’t ask them for help, comfort, support, celebration, acknowledgment, apology, Accommodation, or anything else.

Invitation two:

1. Bring to mind someone who you can count on.

2. Zoom out and think about the times they’ve come through for you.

3. Allow gratitude to rise in you and through you.

4. Send gratitude to this person in someway that feels good for you.

5. Take care of these relationships. The ones where their behaviour has shown you they can be counted on.

With love, M

#mpe #traumarecovery #estrangement #youbelonghere #npe #lda #dcp #adopteevoices

Self-worth is one of the most often mentioned deficits for in trauma survivors, including those who have an MPE. And so what I came here to do was write an article about improving it. I had five suggestions, the same five suggestions I put in a video for Instagram this week. Not very exciting. As they sit to write this, what comes to the surface is how we’re obsessed as a culture with self improvement and looking to others to tell us what and how, and when and why, and underneath all of it is a deep mistrust of our own selves, desires, needs, bodies, memories, and inner knowing.

This is by artificial design. We are busy, plugged in, under demand. We are programmed from infancy to outsource to the doctor, teacher, peers, others.

We’re taught to read the room - the classroom, living room, auditorium. And behave. Perform. Meet expectations. Meet norms.

Then when we suspect our parentage is different, we do as we were trained. We outsource. We ask and are deceived again. Or we read the room, and don’t ask at all.

Instead we write it down somewhere, see it in a dream, whisper our suspicion to a friend in the middle of the night.

But ultimately, we shut it down and move on.

My five suggestions for improving self-worth are pretty mundane:

1. keep promises to yourself.

2. practice self compassion. No more beating yourself up when you feel you’ve fallen short. Good enough is good enough.

3. Set small boundaries by saying no to energy drainers without guilt. I promise with practice you can do it.

4. celebrate even tiny wins.

5. practice affirmations that feel like they could be true.

Now back to self-trust. Acknowledge that you were programmed to outsource and not trust yourself. But that doesn’t mean you’re not trustworthy. I want you to think of a time when you had your own back, or a friends. When you knew something, maybe even just intuitively, without the facts to back yet, and you acted in ways that honoured what you knew. Likely, as things unfolded you saw or experienced how your hunch was correct. Start to notice in everyday life when this happens. Moments when you say, I knew it. I felt it. I suspected as much… bit by a bit, re-build your self-trust. Because you are an amazing, intuitive, wise, soul who knows what’s up, but has been convinced otherwise by the outsourced powers that be, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. You’ve got this.

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“I can’t. Someone will be hurt”. Variations of this are said on repeat by trauma survivors everywhere. Can’t report the crime… can’t speak about what has happened… can’t quit the job… can’t.

I’ve said similar things. When I found out about my birth father, I didn’t want to do anything that would hurt my mom or my family. So while a part of me wanted to shout it from the rooftops and search for my first family, another part of me was immobilized by fear. Perhaps you can relate.

So how do you reconcile when one part of you needs to take actions towards healing but another part is pushing on the brakes?

You can start by identifying the needs - what are your needs? Perhaps a need to know the truth. A need to search for people. A need for comfort, for belonging, acceptance, security. It might feel like all of these needs war with one another because if you do the thing that upsets your raised family, you suspect you will lose some of these things that you need. And that is why you feel fearful.

So what to do?

I’ll tell you what I did and what I’ve seen other people do: I stalled. I went to therapy. I attended support groups. I found comfort in small circles where I could tell the truth and be myself. I spent a lot of time alone in my art studio and I had about five good close friends that knew what was going on. I could have a lot of my needs met by being able to be authentic in those spaces.

I’ve witnessed a lot of others in our community do the same. An extended stall to build a plan and that’s OK. It becomes problematic when you want your plan to be perfect though. When you feel uncompromising about the outcome. That the outcome needs to result in nothing changing, and in no one getting hurt, because that’s not how life works.

When the truth comes out, people will have feelings about it. That’s just a fact. you get to have feelings about it and so do they. The problem is when you start to feel responsible for their feelings because you can’t be. it’s not your place.

Think of it this way, while they were keeping the secret from you, their needs were being met. whatever their motivation for not telling you… beneath it, was a need. Or perhaps a collection of needs. Maybe a need to comply with what a social worker or church official told them, perhaps a need to hide from the perceived shame of how you were conceived. Perhaps it was an affair or non-consensual, keeping your origin story a secret met their needs. But it didn’t give consideration to your developmental needs.

You’re no longer a child with no power. You are an adult who has survived the trauma of familial separation, and long-term deception - bare minimum. This means the foundation of your identity, attachments, and interpersonal skills have all been affected. Recovery means healing all of these and you can’t do that while living in the shadow of the secret and trying to control the outcome and the feelings of everybody else.

Someone say this is perfectionism - I would definitely call it people pleasing - which I’m sure is over simplifying. I’m not gonna pretend that I know the answers on how to get over those two traits either. Those are still things I struggle with every day, but I do know that it helps to name what’s happening: that my needs are at war with the needs of others, especially at times when I want to control the outcomes. WhenI feel protective of the feelings of Others, on some level, I still want to hide. Just knowing that that’s how it is, somehow helps me.

So as I prepare for the launch of my recovery book for NP’s, I want you all to have permission to be human, and to know that recovery is often messy. You’re allowed to make what feels like mistakes, and may be a good place to start is to just take baby steps. What’s one thing you can do today that’s just a little less than perfect? Maybe you can eat your dessert first? maybe you have some ideas of your own of what that might be. with love ~ M

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Learning to set boundaries is crucial. This is by no means “a hot take,” it’s actually pretty old news; but it’s old news that comes up quite regularly when I’m working with the NPE community. Why?

I think it’s because we were raised in families that didn’t model healthy boundaries - plain and simple. Healthy boundaries exist to keep us and others safe. Often these take into account a persons limitations and preferences. I’m just going to say it - healthy boundaries are honest. They reflect limitations honestly.

If there ever were a red flag for dis-honestly within a family system, it might just be not knowing who your parents are! Yes, I venture to bet the raised families of NPEs tend towards secrecy in a number of arenas. We were raised in environments that were dishonest and groomed to self-abandon and people-please.

After your discovery, you are faced with a challenge:

• continue to keep the peace, play the part, even continue the secret-keeping, and participate in maintaining the status quo of family relationships

• OR

• make waves, start being honest about your origins, refuse to keep the secrets, and rework family relationships.

To be fair, these choices exist on a spectrum and have no set timeline; many NPEs take time to negotiate a path and balance that works for them. Some choose to reveal the secret to a small trusted group of friends or family first, and wait some time before expanding.

Knowing how to set boundaries sets the stage for self-care and healing. It’s almost impossible to heal if your raised family is meddling about in your mind and space.

Here’s a short exploration of learning to set boundaries:

1. It begins with knowing yourself. Your personal limitations and preferences. After a life of self-abandonment it can take time to become reacquainted with these.

2. Be light and playful about exploring. For example, consider how these examples feel in your body:

How do you feel about a spider climbing on you?

How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?

How do you feel about getting up at 4am to travel?

Notice, do you feel drawn to or repulsed by these examples?

When other real life situations come up, it is a similar sensation in the body - a feeling of being drawn towards or a feeling of unease or repulsion.

3. When opportunities or invitations arise, get in the habit of buying time to make a decision. Ask “when do you need an answer by?” Or “I’m going to need to sleep on that.” During that time, avoid overthinking, rather get in touch with your body - is it saying yes or no.

4. Next, communicate your decision; you do not need to give specific reasons; but if you really have to, try to be vague - “I have other plans” or “that’s not going to work for me.” Then stick to your word!

Notice how it feels when you honor yourself - perhaps guilty or selfish at first, but I promise it’ll get easier!

What about when a violation happens, and you don’t have time to ponder your next step. For example, I often hear about insensitive comments from raised parents, friends, or extended family members. If it is someone you have a good relationship with, you could choose to be curious and try to find out what is behind what they said, or try to help them understand their comment was hurtful.

If not, you can show by your actions that they crossed a line by simply disengaging - walking away, hanging up, not responding. You could say something brief like “that was rude” before cutting the interaction off. (We can talk about repair later.)

I’m gonna wrap it up there.

Key points:

• -MPE Recovery requires time, space, and respect.

• - You need to become reacquainted with your limitations and what it feels like when your body says YES versus NO.

• - Buy time to feel into your answers.

• - Practice following through. Respect your body’s answers.

• - Notice how it feels when you stand up for yourself and respect your limits.

You may have lived a lifetime without boundaries, so it’s reasonable to expect learning this skill to take time - but it’s worth it!

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This is a great example of the kind of information I provide in my upcoming book - to be released this year! Please interact with this post to help spread the word that this resource is coming.

With love ~ M

It’s a whopper: I am your parent or this person is your parent; when biologically, this simply isn’t true.

We discover the lie (many times after years of suspecting) and it becomes THE single thing we focus on, understandably. This is the lie that changes everything and creates confusion inside us about things we had taken for granted: our name, our traits, our purpose, faith, family connections, self-trust… and on and on and on.

The discovery of the lie becomes a touchstone in our timeline. Such-and such happened before/after discovery. We might even become so focused on it that it encases us; we can feel limited by it, defined by it. Caged. Paddling fervently below the water, the way ducks do, all the while trying to maintain a normal life and not let on that we are struggling.

However, you existed before the lie, and before discovery of the lie, and EVEN before that.

You were a sperm or egg at one time… and if you are a female, you existed inside your grandmother when she was expecting your mother… and depending on your belief system, perhaps you even existed before that. Really think about it.

Now ponder, when did the deception begin? It can be heartbreaking to realize that birth and deception go hand in hand on the timeline for many of us. And the deception of our extended family or community, perhaps began before birth.

Yet we still had an infanthood, childhood, and teen years - albeit turbulent for many. We may have lived through abuse, narcissism, poverty, racism, immigration, or other traumatic things. Yet we may be able to bring to mind a handful of joyous times too; a favorite pet or neighbor, a teacher or counsellor who really believed in us, playing on a sport team or learning some new skill… perhaps even just a really great song that made us dance.

I remember the Muppet Show, two fantastic childhood friends, playing in the forest, riding and grooming horses with our neighbor, and many mentors who changed my life. I remember dancing. We were of the generation who made dance performances for our friends. Look out Tiktok - haha the 90’s kids did that too! <3

When I discovered the lie, it shone a light of truth on how it had touched and affected every part of my life. I think that might also be why for a time it can feel like - this lie is the end all be all thing about me - but I promise you, it’s not.

The circumstances that lead to my origins being hidden - safety, desire to fit cultural norms, fear of judgement and rejection - these things also permeated the family dynamics of the home I grew up in. It was not JUST the lie that hurt me, but the soil that bred the perceived need to lie.

Here I am in my forties now, twelve years after discovery, and I know I began much, much before any lie. My days are no longer spent obsessing about my family of origin, or feeling angry about the injustice of it all. To be sure, I don’t have the lock on answers, and I still feel sadness about my story. Sad that it happened the way it did. Sad that all the players played it in ways that ultimately bred hurt and disconnection. And sadness that even the best reunions cannot make up for all the time lost.

All this is to plant some seeds of hope and reassurance, and to say the things I needed to hear, and still do somedays. You are not the lie. You didn’t choose the lie. You did nothing wrong. This is not your fault. This is not a reflection of your worth as a human. You existed before, and you will continue to exist long after - you beautiful, unique, miracle of a being.

With love ~ M

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In my early thirties, I began having what would later be called anxiety attacks. I would awake in a full sweat, heart racing, nausea raging, bowels flushing… and yes, my thoughts were racing. I was worried about my children, my family, money, health, juggling all the things we do as women and partners. My husband had been diagnosed with a disability that had greatly reduced how much he could work and earn, and my children, I was realizing were both neurodiverse and requiring more support. This was indeed anxiety, in the most classic of senses. I had A LOT to be concerned about. My body had trouble handling it all.

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When I discovered my father wasn’t biologically related to me, I was thirty three. I had self-diagnosed with Celiac disease seven years earlier (no one would test me, but this was confirmed by my DNA test); and the anxiety attacks looked more or less the same. I would wake up or go to bed with them. Working beyond my limits, or overstimulation certainly seemed to play a role. Upon my paternal discovery, I began also having flashbacks and my mental health suffered. It was around this time that doctors began throwing anti-anxiety meds at me - understandably. Trouble sleeping, physical symptoms, along with trauma and racing thoughts. Again, classic. With medication and therapy, I could manage.

(And as many NPE’s know, addressing authority figures becomes a loaded endeavor post-discovery. They’re probably right. They won’t listen to me anyways.)

In the following years, I returned to school to become a therapist. I became more familiar with neurodiversity, anxiety and depression, identity crisis, and family dynamics. I learned and practiced coping skills; delved into yoga and meditation. Yet, these “attacks” would still creep up out of seemingly nowhere, but a new pattern was immerging, I started to notice that anytime I accidentally ate gluten containing food - I would have what I believed was an anxiety attack. Nausea, vomiting, bowels flushing, shaking, hot flashes, dizziness, sore joints the next day… wait, I wasn’t worrying about anything, no thoughts, just violent physical symptoms. The anti-anxiety meds were no longer helping; I was now given anti-psych meds to treat this. I wondered why, yet, if I took and anti-psych AND an anti-nauseant anti-histamine, symptoms would settle in an hour or two.

I wasn’t thrilled with this pattern or treatment, but felt powerless to change it or question it. Historically, my GP doctors have been dismissive, and not big on investigating. Woman + trauma + mystery symptoms + normal labs = mental health issue. I can only guess this is the equation.

Fast forward to fall on 2025, I had to visit the er three times because my mouth and tongue were swelling, nausea, shaking, hot flashes, bowel flushing. I was informed that this is anaphylaxis - and extreme allergic reaction that involves more than two body systems. WAIT. WHAT? THIS is what I’ve been experiencing for decades. Yes, the mouth swelling is a fun new feature, but aside from that, THIS is what I’ve been suffering through at least once a month for twenty years. They threw antihistamines at me, and guess what? Everything settled down.

Now every time I feel the onset of what they called “Anxiety”, I take antihistamines, and low and behold, my symptoms settle almost immediately.

Okay, granted, when this all began it was anxiety. But somewhere along the way, there was a shift where most of my attacks were triggered by eating. WHY did no one question this? WHY, when the anti-anxiety meds stopped working did they switch to anti-psyches and not re-examine?

These reactions have kept me from doing things in my life, like travelling. I thought I was too anxious to travel even though I have wanted to. At times the suffering was so great, I considered suicide, or felt like I was actually going to die. But I kept being told it was in my head. Breath more. Yoga more. Sleep better. Think right.

When these reactions happened, yes, my anxiety would increase too - but that was because I felt like I was dying!

Cool, so now I have a protocol. I have multiple antihistamines and EpiPens. cool cool cool. You know what isn’t cool though?! I still don’t know what the trigger is? Yes, gluten… but also, some chemicals, not sure which ones… but also, other foods that I’m not sure of. You know what would help with this? Allergy testing, or seeing an allergist. Makes sense, right? But my doctor refused to send me. He says there are too many possibilities to narrow down, and they’re just going to give me the same antihistamines I have now. I’m not sure I agree. Do you?

Further, the reading I’ve come across about peri-menopause, estrogen dominance, endometriosis, and high histamines is mind-blowing!! The way all these factors are dancing together, AH, the answer is in understanding the dance better, I’m sure. Do doctors get training on this? I sincerely want to know?

So what’s my point? Referencing my vision for the year… recognizing futility… I’m calling it. Trying to address this through the medical system seems futile. (at least right now) So I’m not going to. I’m going to sink into myself, my inner knowing, and all the practices I know support me best. I’m going to try to let go of the anger and frustration I feel because it all feel impossible. How someone diagnosed me with anxiety and allowed that to be stagnant - not recognizing something as serious as anaphylaxis - I could have died. I felt like I was dying, because I could have died. Ha. But I kept on going.

And now I just feel annoyed and a little curious if others have similar experiences? I know women get gaslit by the medical field? Dismissed and ignored? I know this happens especially around women’s health issues? But what about the kids I work with? I can’t help but wonder if ND youth are also being put in this “anxiety” box when there is something physical happening?

SO I’ve solved nothing. But I have vented a bunch of my thoughts and experiences. I hope this hasn’t happened to you, but if it has, please feel free to share. We may not have all the answers, but at least we can be together.

With love ~M

When I was 16 I joined an alternative high school. I had done two years of home school, which in the 90’s was particularly brutal. Unwilling to return to public high school, and unsure how I would graduate through distance education… this alternative school was my best option.

This school was for the misfits. The teen moms, the kids with addiction, those who struggled to have a home due to family instability, foster kids, and those who’d been labelled as “trouble”.

You had to qualify to be accepted into this school. And the qualifications, were cards stacked against you. I recall filling out the application and wondering how I would actually get accepted. To my knowledge, I was from a “normal” family. I mean, mom and dad (no step parents), sure my dad drank too much - but didn’t everyone’s? And life felt HARD - but that was probably my fault, right?

I’m not sure what I wrote, but they accepted me.

Day one, I met the school counsellor, Trey Carey - a man who influenced my life forever after. He toured me through the school. It was crowded, loud, chaotic. Teens with chains, tattoos, face piercings, big pregnant bellies, all laughing… someone was juggling devil sticks.

Trey led me to the fridge and explained how the meal program worked. I was hardly listening. “How do I fit in here?” My mind was racing and insecurity sprouting.

“Did you eat? Would you like dinner?” He interrupted my worry.

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure? You don’t even want to know what it is?”

“No.”

“How long have you had the eating disorder?” Full eye contact. Blunt but kind.

…

He continued. “I only know because I have one too… but we can talk about that later. I have an appointment with this young mom…” he signalled to a beautiful young woman my age.

As I walked away, I heard him continue “So how did it go with the adoptive parents?”

My head spun. In the span of about ten minutes this man had me pegged. Eating disorder, yes. Dysfunctional family full of secrets, also yes. He saw me as I was, a teen who desperately needed resources just like everyone else at that school; where it turns out I really did belong.

It would be nearly two decades before all the secrets would surface. The depth of the dysfunction. The reason behind the high control life I’d been living. The life that was keeping me, from me.

Trey saw me. Just like he saw all of us at that school. He may have been the first person to have seen and made it known. He inspired me to become a youth counsellor. When he passed in 2002, I stopped being able to visit his home; but I carry him with me. I remember the feeling I had when he said “how long have you had the eating disorder?” And then self disclosed. I remember the feeling so I too can create it - so I can offer a kind acceptance.

My point? NPE’s often feel like misfits. Like we don’t belong anywhere. I felt like that long before discovery. And yet, sometimes a gift of a person or group appears where we can feel seen. It can feel shocking, uncomfortable… but if we are brave we may just accept the gift - risky as it feels - and experience moments of surprising connection and belonging.

Have you experienced surprise belonging? Was it comfortable or a little jarring?

As always, with love ~ M

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Why am I telling my most personal stories?

Why do I think I people want to hear how this feels or how to feel better?

Why did I complicate the process by asking others to contribute their stories too? … not realizing this would lead to meeting with a lawyer to discuss defamation and contracts. Silly things artists don’t really care about.

Everyone’s stories were so good and they were so courageous that made it worth it.

And then I make graphics… and then I remade the graphics so that they’re greyscale with white printing… better for the ND brain.

And then someone in my circle says “I can’t wait to read your book.”

And this isn’t someone I know closely but well enough. And I answer “are you sure? Maybe you could read it and then forget everything you read and don’t tell anybody about it.” Apprehension got the better of me.

So why am I writing this book? I ask again.

Because writing it was healing for me. This is the book I needed 12 years ago.

Hopefully reading it will be healing for others. My pain, not for nothing.

I wonder how many authors have existed since the beginning of time. Millions? It’s impossible to know.

And when I’m feeling afraid of being seen I remind myself that other people have done this and they’ve been OK.

And it reminds me of 25 years ago when I was pregnant with my daughter my first, and I was terrified. And people would try to reassure me by saying women have done this since the beginning of time, you can do this too, there is nothing more natural. But to me, it made no difference I was terrified of the transition, and responsibility, very little about it felt natural to me for a long time. But people were right, by the time I had, my son, I felt confident, indeed women have been doing this since the beginning of time - just like creators have been creating and releasing their art into the world as long as they’re been humans. At least that long! so guys, that’s why I’m writing this book.

I hope you’ll enjoy it! ~ M

Honouring what is yet to come.

Every year I choose a word to embody rather than setting goals or even intentions. I journal heavily during the last week of the year and am reminded how much I thrive when given time and space to create, reflect, and forget what day it is.

I celebrated my successes… mostly about gradually recovering from the serious health problems of 23/24. VIBRANT was the word I chose during recovery.

The second half of 2025 was fraught with conflict. I’m conflict avoidant, I didnt go looking for these fights - yet they appeared with a vengeance - and I fought. Hard. I fought to and beyond my breaking point.

I failed to notice the moments when futility presented itself. The moments when it became clear that I could not fix the injustice I was fighting - no one wanted to understand me, and indeed I live by a very different set of ethics. My value of human life and safety lost, to their value of material things and maintaining appearances. This was a plain but simple fact, yet I let myself be consumed by confusion and a sense of injustice. It couldn’t be true, yet it was.

Aside from learning a lot about myself and how I want to show up - these experiences were futile.

My word for this year is not a word; it is a visualization. An image of nature came to me. A rushing river, pebbles below, deeply rooted trees surrounding, fish swimming against the current… I searched for myself in this image.

Am I the river? Rushing but constant.

Am I pebbles? Steady and immovable, yet worn and shaped by the river.

Am I the tree? Rooted and fed by the river.

Perhaps I am the fish? Fighting upstream.

Then I saw it. A very tall lonely tree set back from the river. Up top, a large steady nest. An eagle sitting atop.

I’ve never been drawn to eagles (I think they’ve been pretty politically related, in my mind) but here I was - this beautiful visualization taking shape. The eagle was looking around with his incredible far sight. He was easeful, but engaged. He could benefit from the ecosystem, but he is also free to fly or move. He’s not a fighter.

Could I embody the eagle this year? Ease, foresight, freedom, conflict avoidance, comfort, mobility, power. Surely this eagle recognizes futility and knows when to move on.

This year: my book will be released and the NPE movie I’ve been consulting on begins filming. I’ll also be returning to school to upgrade. Professionally, some big long term goals are coming to fruition.

Changes in my personal life include realizing that, my children are no longer children. Adult offspring! They’re transitioning into their independence. It’s what we work towards, we know it’s coming… yet, on the edge of it… it’s quite a feeling of awe and appreciation.

I am the eagle.

It is safe for me to be perceived and to perceive. (To share art, writing, and speaking.)

I am free to relax, retreat, or move on.

I can visit new environments because I am not tied to one location. I am not the environment. I am the eagle.

With love ~ M

Every year I choose a word to embody rather than setting goals or even intentions. I journal heavily during the last week of the year and am reminded how much I thrive when given time and space to create, reflect, and forget what day it is.

I celebrated my successes… mostly about gradually recovering from the serious health problems of 23/24. VIBRANT was the word I chose during recovery.

The second half of 2025 was fraught with conflict. I’m conflict avoidant, I didnt go looking for these fights - yet they appeared with a vengeance - and I fought. Hard. I fought to and beyond my breaking point.

I failed to notice the moments when futility presented itself. The moments when it became clear that I could not fix the injustice I was fighting - no one wanted to understand me, and indeed I live by a very different set of ethics. My value of human life and safety lost, to their value of material things and maintaining appearances. This was a plain but simple fact, yet I let myself be consumed by confusion and a sense of injustice. It couldn’t be true, yet it was.

Aside from learning a lot about myself and how I want to show up - these experiences were futile.

My word for this year is not a word; it is a visualization. An image of nature came to me. A rushing river, pebbles below, deeply rooted trees surrounding, fish swimming against the current… I searched for myself in this image.

Am I the river? Rushing but constant.

Am I pebbles? Steady and immovable, yet worn and shaped by the river.

Am I the tree? Rooted and fed by the river.

Perhaps I am the fish? Fighting upstream.

Then I saw it. A very tall lonely tree set back from the river. Up top, a large steady nest. An eagle sitting atop.

I’ve never been drawn to eagles (I think they’ve been pretty politically related, in my mind) but here I was - this beautiful visualization taking shape. The eagle was looking around with his incredible far sight. He was easeful, but engaged. He could benefit from the ecosystem, but he is also free to fly or move. He’s not a fighter.

Could I embody the eagle this year? Ease, foresight, freedom, conflict avoidance, comfort, mobility, power. Surely this eagle recognizes futility and knows when to move on.

This year: my book will be released and the NPE movie I’ve been consulting on begins filming. I’ll also be returning to school to upgrade. Professionally, some big long term goals are coming to fruition.

Changes in my personal life include realizing that, my children are no longer children. Adult offspring! They’re transitioning into their independence. It’s what we work towards, we know it’s coming… yet, on the edge of it… it’s quite a feeling of awe and appreciation.

I am the eagle.

It is safe for me to be perceived and to perceive. (To share art, writing, and speaking.)

I am free to relax, retreat, or move on.

I can visit new environments because I am not tied to one location. I am not the environment. I am the eagle.

With love ~ M

When I google Recovery this turns up:

• “a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.”

• “the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost.”

Does this describe me?

I am certainly not the same person I was. My mind, phew, has been through it. It learned to race, to slow, to grieve, to dream. My health took many big hits - I lost part of my liver, and discovered the cost of long-term stress.

I feel still feel physically, emotionally, and spiritually fatigued on many days, indeed recovery is on-going.

AND I appreciate life. I notice the little pleasures of existence, and the simple everyday things that make life sweeter.

Lately I feel my journey cost me greatly for many years, AND my pay off is happening now… in the inner peace I get to entertain most days.

Have I regained possession of something stolen or lost? What was stolen or lost?

I lost my identity, contact with my intuition, my trust in others and myself, my faith. I floated in lostness, in the vast ocean of my grievances.

I trained myself in meditative practices - in yoga, in pottery, in mindful walking. I trained my mind to learn to recognize itself. To pause, to ask: is that thought true? Whose thought is that? Is it mine? Where did it come from? Whose voice is it?

Slowly, through this practice I integrated all the parts of myself, regained connection with my body and intuition, tested my trust in others and myself. Slowly, I learned about boundaries. Slowly, I began to protect my personal peace. Slowly, I stabilized and personalized my faith. Slowly, I became more than I used to be.

I learned to navigate vulnerability some of the time.

I learned to let myself feel my body.

I learned to allow pleasure to exist along with the suffering.

And I’m not done yet, slowly, I am ever becoming.

With love ~ M

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Feeling stuck has got to be one of the most common sentiments of NPE’s. The desire to have closure, peace, resolution, trumped by the feeling of loss, fear, and powerlessness.

We want peace in our family, so we hold back from confrontation. We silence our questions, sack our list of grievances, stuff our feelings. We don’t want to make anyone feel bad. Even thinking about it makes our hearts race and sweat begin to bead.

We want reunion but that would mean people could find out about this shame, this family scandal. The people who raised us might feel unpleasant emotions. They might think we’re disloyal, or worse… selfish. Our genetic family probably wouldn’t like us anyways - we tell ourself this in an effort to self soothe. Besides family hasn’t been awesome so far - who needs more?! We’re so clever.

In the meantime, we sleep poorly, eat poorly, scroll endlessly. We become obsessively busy and exhausted. We have a list of things to look forward to… vacation is coming… a time to eat and sleep poorly in a new location!

This is freeze. A survival strategy that has served us well until now. Unfortunately the only way through the MPE is to actually wade through it. It’s to call the secrets what they actually are - lies. And to call the event what is actually is - trauma. It means looking at the relationships and recognizing the abuse, neglect, and dysfunction for what they are, and being brave enough to call it such.

Maybe all we can handle is a baby step in this direction, and that’s okay. One baby step at a time. Maybe in a journal at first, then to a best friend. Maybe anonymously in an online support group. Slowly but surly we need to thaw.

I promise it gets easier. You can be brave. What’s one baby step you can take? Even pondering the question is a start.

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Today I’ll be booking my therapist and taking some time to write.

With love ~ M

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Just kidding - but seriously - if you’ve been through a dna surprise you know better than anyone the emotional armour that is called for.

Which relationships become difficult? MANY.

Why? 1. because our primary relationship always begins with the relationship we have with ourself; and now, we are frought with identity issues and the push-pull of meeting our own needs at the expense of others. (At least that’s how it feels.) 2. because people are often ignorant about trauma, and the effects of having an MPE - this includes, maybe especially, the people who raised us.

Society at large does not recognize or validate this particular branch of loss and trauma.

So we armour up, shut down, don’t make waves, sacrifice our own needs, keep the peace (sort of). We often enter into a long term state of freeze, because nowhere and no one feels safe anymore.

Our hearts have been broken and invalidated. We feel betrayed and ashamed of our feelings. We feel frustrated with ourselves for our inability to “move on”.

We often needs support in relearning how to be embodied because to shut down feels much much safer. Our body is supposed to give us accurate information about our safety, when we shut down due to trauma, we can become disconnected from it. We start to default to trusting no one… or sometimes people go to the other extreme trusting everyone.

We need to relearn how to notice our bodies signals, about safety, because living in armour is a lonely life. Many activities can help restore our connection with our body, if we engage with intention: yoga, pottery, qigong, forest therapy, dance, drumming, swimming, guided meditations that include movement or body scans. Perhaps you can think of additional strategies for becoming embodied.

We can also engage in safe spaces such as: therapy, NPE support groups or social media pages,listen to NPE podcasts, read NPE memoirs, or attend recovery retreats.

As we become more acquainted with our bodies, we’ll begin to notice the signals it sends us: butterflies, racing heart, pit in the stomach, lump in the throat, the sense of dread when we have betrayed ourself. This takes practice and time.

Our relationships will become places where we try. We try to show up whole, we try to share, we try to dance the dynamic dance, but our tolerance for disharmony or being misunderstood or invalidated often becomes quite small. And so sometimes even if our interaction only hints of such things, our tendency will be to shut down and distance, understandably. But we keep at it.

I think that before discovery, I was actually a pretty open person. After discovery, I was very open with others about what I was going through. But that was short-lived, as I quickly learned that most people could not relate. They didn’t know how to access a place inside of them that was soft, or that could admit that this thing I was going through was bigger than they could understand. And so I stopped talking about it with most people. I went through a period of intense loneliness, hesitant about engaging in friendships. My social interactions became focused on enjoying shared activities, or on supporting them, and I kept this thing - that was the biggest thing in my life and in my heart - very much to myself. Perhaps you can relate.

Slowly, as I began to get to know myself better, I developed more ability for self reflection in a higher tolerance for being uncomfortable. I did this by engaging in embodied practices I mentioned earlier. These activities left me alone with my thoughts, my emotions, my breath. All of these things helped me to connect with my body and the messages coming from my body. I started to learn that some people could be safe to be in genuine relationship with. And that, even if the relationship was healthy, it would probably still feel scary to me. I needed to tolerate the risk until I had a proper read on the situations - and engage carefully - while paying attention to my body.

Sometimes I would share with someone and I would notice that my ears started ringing or I would get very hot and sweaty or I might feel a little dizzy and faint or nauseated, sometimes I would have a complete panic attack and need to leave.

Sometimes I would later realize that my body’s reaction had nothing to do with the other person, and had a whole lot more to do with me and my trauma. My fear and trauma was causing my body to send signals that I was unsafe, when possibly what I needed was a break, or to go slower. (Sometimes it was that the other person wasn’t safe. So it’s always good to get some space and reflect.)

One by one I started developing genuine, safe friendships, most of these developed after discovery. I stayed close to maybe only two of my close friends from before discovery. I also spent a lot more time alone and started to really appreciate that time. For many years after discovery, a lot of my focus and energy went into the concept of family. It went into trying to find my bio family, assessing my safety with them, and whether they were people I wanted in my life in an ongoing way. I also tried to navigate things with the family that I had grown up with. My heart was cautiously engaged.

(Stream of consciousness musing incoming, buckle up…)

I think I was very self focussed for a bit, and then came therapy and support groups and self-expression. When I began meditating and writing I think I started to expand my idea of the concept of family. I empowered myself to curate my chosen family - it’s an cliche for a reason.

My concept of ancestors and who I consider to be my ancestors also expanded. I came across a few speakers who explained ancestors as being everyone who came before us, not just our genetic relatives, and in these talks they really invited a person to meditate on who was everyone that came before us. It made me wonder who lived in my house before me. How many families? My house is 100 years old… who built the house? I started to wonder… is it even “my” house? someone else will be here after me, and my time will have been a blip in its history. It will outlive me. I started to reflect on things like trees, how many trees in the place that I live will outlive me? they were here long before me and they’ll be here long after, are they too, my ancestors? All of these kinds contemplations brought me closer to feeling safe in the world.

(Detour over)

To summarize:

• Engage in a variety of embodiment practices

• Notice what discomfort feels like and how it feels to stick it out

• Validate that it is perfectly reasonable to keep your heart on lockdown - engage cautiously and within your capacity

• Find safe NPE spaces to engage in

• Try to be open to new friendships

• Work with a trauma or NPE/adoptee competent therapist or coach

• Take space from the people who raised you if their response hasn’t been what you need. It is not your job to keep the peace or spare them from guilt at this time. It is your job to take care of this wound. You can choose to repair with them later, when and if you feel the need/ability to safely.

In time, you’ll learn that your heart doesn’t need to be on full lockdown - you can feel safe in the world and in relationships once again.

Finding out that one or both of our parents are not who we grew up believing them to be is shocking and traumatic and can’t help but make us feel like the world is upside down. But I can tell you from experience it doesn’t have to stay that way. It’s become a much more common experience in the last 10 to 15 years, but it also happened before at-home DNA tests. It’s not much talked about but these kinds of things have always happened - throughout history - and somehow people do find their way through. So even as I write, because I want to make the community a better place, and I wanna share what I’ve learned along the way in the last 11 years, I’m also aware that I don’t have all the answers, and that even if no one was guiding you I have faith you would find your way, because people are amazing. You are amazing. And resilient. And brilliant. And your body is full of wisdom that will get you through this. With love.M.

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This is what I do with clients too. We zoom out, we feel the feels, we explore the stories, we find commonalities so we really know we are not alone, and ultimately we try to water our sense of hope. Hope that things, will one day, begin to feel better.

We learn and practice skills: boundaries, communication, conflict resolution… to build a foundation for our hope. What do we hope for? Safety, acceptance, a regulated nervous system that allows us to eat, sleep, rest, socialize, and work predictably. We hope for the ability to trust again - others and ourselves. The most human of desires.

But many of us also dream of reconciliation. Repair. Freedom of speech, to speak about our experience of trauma without criticism and judgement. Sometimes we desire this repair with the people who raised us - and sometimes we feel the need for it with other secret keepers too. THIS is the most understandable need in the world… and the most dangerous, challenging, and sometimes impossible. Yes, I said it, impossible. Impossible without damaging yourself, compromising yourself, putting yourself in harms way repeatedly. Because the secret keepers failed to do what was best for you. I’m aware the inclination of some may be to defend them - “they were doing as they were told” “it wasn’t their place to tell” “ they thought it was best at the time”…

But it wasn’t just that one lie, was it? It was many, many layers of untruth to cover the big one. AND if you are like me, those lies may have put you in danger. It is widely known among our community, that abuse and neglect are common experiences in situations like ours. (I could have gone looking for stats, but I was lazy this morning. I’m sure they are out there, if you love stats, go find ‘em.) This is just one reason why I believe LIES ARE DANGEROUS. I will die on that hill.

Okay, back to why reconciliation is a tall order. The people who raised us need to tell the truth, and recognize the harm of their actions. If there was abuse, perpetrated by them or their partner, they need to admit this and take responsibility. They need to recognize that their deception had unanticipated consequences. Skills are required: humility, honesty, self-reflection, self-sacrifice, perspective taking, to name a few. This is a tall order that requires they put the NPE’s needs first, and change their behavior consistently. The safety they offer needs to be consistent and long-term; and the truth is, if they had these skills to offer to begin with, they may have told the truth sooner, and you would not be struggling with the desire to repair.

This is why, despite my default being to instill HOPE - hope for reconciliation is not at the top of my list. This kind of hope, I’ve learned, can be dangerous.

(That isn’t to say new equilibriums can’t be established, we can explore that another day.)

Relationships are dynamic - always moving and changing. A dance between parties, set within circumstances and ever changing environments. Difficult to predict and maintain unless both dancers are on the same page, hearing the same music, learning and practicing the same harmonious steps.

That is why even in my experience with my mom, it is ever-changing. The only thing that has been consistent is her inconsistency. The music and steps of dance - chaotic, unpredictable, full of misdirection, collision… impossible to sync with. And what I’ve learned over time is that it was also dangerous to try. Truly, I learned it was safer to stay small, quiet, and hopeless.

But times have changed, I’m out here using my voice and taking up space. And hopeless is only one word I use in regards to our dynamic relationship - Acceptance is the other. Hoping that things will change for us - for true consistent safety - that is dangerous for me, and I will always be disappointed. Accepting that, means I can have my needs met elsewhere, in other relationships, with people who have similar lived experiences, and who are endeavoring to learn the same steps. We hear the same music, and know the joy that can be found in dancing together in alignment.

With love and hopeless acceptance ~M

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In my raised family, I’m the eldest of two siblings. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I’m an auntie. I’m a cousin. I’m a niece. I’m a wife and I’m a granddaughter.

In my genetic family, I am a an unknown daughter, a sister. I am a youngest sibling? Unless other siblings also appear… then I’m in the middle. I’m a surprise. I’m a mystery. I might be a friend. I hope I’m a friend, mostly. I’m an auntie, an unknown cousin… and there’s something I’m not… I’m not someone with a shared history.

Do I get to my individual identity by stripping away the titles? what happens when we strip away the titles of daughter, sister, cousin, niece, auntie granddaughter… and so on.

When we strip the way the titles, I guess I’m just me, but am I? If I strip away, daughter, then who raised me? where did I come from? would I still talk and gesture the way I do? If I strip away Sister, do I matter to anyone? If I strip away mother, who comes after me? If I strip away cousin and niece, I would never have known so many people I dearly loved. Who would I be without these people? am I anyone? I’m just some human.

And I guess I can sense some freedom in that possibility, in the thought that I could be just some human… who likes some things and dislikes other things. A human who talks like me and gestures like me. A human who’s creative and adventurous and spontaneous and a little bit silly. That I became me by random. But would I be if I was cut off from all the people I’ve encountered until now?

And so even though that freedom feels seductive… Is it real freedom to reimagine myself separate from the vast web of humanity and family and ancestors and community and nature that caused me to exist?

The me that I am doesn’t exist outside of the context of all of these things… People, places, systems, nature. *sigh

And I guess I’m a little bit thankful for that because I wouldn’t wanna do this alone or feel that I always have been alone.

And so this thing that us MPE’s do… this identity thing… we’re devastated, and spiralling, and questioning, and lost, and we seek to redefine ourselves. It’s so natural and reasonable and understandable. And what we really want is answers direction, foundation, security, freedom, joy… I think we want something akin to what we had before discovery changed everything and we may wish we could go back, but we can’t.

And so peace for me came when I could see who I was in the context of my raised family, as well as my genetic family, as an individual, as well as in the context of community and a broader definition of ancestors.

Peace for me came when I could be thankful for the connections, the true-real-authentic-living-connections that I experienced with people throughout my life both before, and after discovery, both genetic and non-genetic, both human and non-human. peace came when I could realize that connection is everywhere… And I AM ME because of those connections. Because something inside of me can connect to the things outside of me and I can sit in the stillness of that reflection and I can find comfort there. It’s like magic.

May you too have moments that feel safe enough to explore WHO YOU ARE in the context of your raised family versus your genetic family, versus YOU as an individual versus YOU in the context of your community.

May you sense the special place that you have in the hearts and lives of others.

May you know and feel that you are loved whoever you choose to be in this moment, and may you have people in your life that will meet you wherever that is.

With love ~ M

PS - to get more stream of consciousness essays and company on your MPE journey, click below :)

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Who am i? With a small “i” because that’s how powerless it feels.

Do I really like ice cream before bed?

Why am i so stubborn?

Am i an artist? Really?

Am i lovable? Who thinks so?

Am i wanted?

Who do i take after?

Is this the real reason they told me im smart? How could I have allowed myself to be fooled?

What’s my genetic family like? Do they know about me? Do they miss me?

Do i talk like them? Walk like them? Is this why i look goofy when i run?

Do they have celiac and liver problems too?

Why did this happen to me?

Am i still Caucasian?

Who would I be if they had raised me? Known me? Been any part of my life?

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN??

is there order in the universe? God, are you there? I have some questions?…

I spiralled. Indeed we spiral. Because the spiral is the most natural flow in the world when the MPE discovery hits. How could they lie to me for so long?

How do I recover? How do i become … me again?

What does that even mean? Was i ever “me”?

Spoiler alert: the answers were not “out there”… they were inside of me. In my pottery wheel. In the tears i cried while journaling. Hiding beneath the moss with the mushrooms in the forest. In smiles and tears shared with mentors. In conversations with the divine. The answers waited in the sacred silence of morning light… and dark. They hid beneath the fear… always there… always trying… always whispering. In my breath. Waiting to be noticed by me.

I know we all want a step-by-step guide back to home. But no one could have given me everything I needed to know and learn.

The best supports promised “it won’t always be this way”… and I would believe them. But that is not how I found my way. I flailed, cried, inquired, searched, cowered, spun, created… and finally, got still.

The futility was not wasted on me. I breathed… finally. I learned that in the breathe I could hold all the things - the discomfort, the questions, the pain, the mystery… and finally the magic of it all. I resigned. Surrendered.

~ May you have loving people who tell you “it won’t always feel this way”. May you believe them and trust yourself to find your way. May you begin to hear the answers within. ~ with love M

Start with meeting your physical needs for food, hydration, rest, movement, and warmth… this sounds easy, but can be really hard to do consistently.

I know I felt lost when I began to attempt to re-structure my world to support my recovery. Even meeting physical needs felt exhausting!

I began to take stock of the people I would regularly engage with. How did they make me feel, before, during, and after the interaction? Did I feel respected? Cared for? Did I leave feeling insecure? Feeling sick or exhausted? I began to limit my contact with people who affected me poorly. If they were critical, dishonest, dismissive, or chronically negative, it taxed my system too greatly - it cost me more than I had to give. It was really hard, but I had to prioritize allowing my nervous system to rest.

I began to invest in relationships that felt positive and comforting; I accepted that a small circle of trustworthy friends was perfect for me. I didn’t need more. I found a good therapist and support group. I knew my social time needed to become nourishing for me.

I also cut down my consumption of negative entertainment - the news, violent dramas, or other dysregulating media. I replaced it with nature documentaries, hiking, writing, yoga, art, and dancing. These were all thing I enjoyed pre-discovery, and now digging into them deeper helped give my mind a much needed rest.

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Here is your how-to short list: (go easy on yourself if you fail to do these, this is not a beat-yourself-up-list)

• make a physical self care check list and track your needs: food, hydration, rest, warmth, movement

• take stock of your social interactions and notice which ones leave you feeling drained versus built-up. Invest in relationships that encourage and comfort you.

• find a therapist or support group

• try to cut back on your negative entertainment and see if you notice a difference in how you feel

• make a list of thing you enjoyed pre-discovery and try to continue to engage in these things - notice how you feel during and after

• make a list of comforting or enjoyable sensory experiences that addresses each of the senses: sight, sounds, tastes, touch, smells - be specific then prioritize including these in your life

I’m sure this isn’t an exhaustive list, but it’s a great place to start. Eleven years post-discovery, this is the practical stuff I wish someone had told me. I hope it helps! With love ~ M

I supposed it meant, this isn’t all you are. After pondering, I think it could also mean, this doesn’t have to limit you.

Yet, discovering misattributed parentage feels like it absolutely defines us. For me, it was all-consuming for nearly a decade. It was the primary identifying thing about me that people either knew or didn’t know. And when I thought about my timeline, events were sorted as pre- or post- discovery.

Discovery became the still point against which everything was checked.

Writing my book helped a lot. In writing, I could begin to see how this thing, this discovery was not all there is to me.

That said, it has felt super challenging to promote my book about recovering from my misattributed parentage. I’ve had a marketing plan; made up of prompts for social media creation. Yet I’ve really struggled to follow it. Why? What am I running from?

Is it fear of imperfection? Of being seen? Understood or misunderstood? Why the procrastination?

In contrast, I have no problem promoting my pottery. Daily, I post videos of my process and items I’ve created. Is it less vulnerable?… Am I running from vulnerability?

No, I’ve concluded my avoidance is stemming from my desire to preserve my wholeness. I fought SO hard to be whole again, and social media seems to require that we fragment ourselves. Define ourselves. Am I an NPE or a Potter? Am I a Therapist or a Writer? Am I a Mother or a Daughter? This is why I have two social media accounts, one for my pottery and another for my book.

Am I allowed to be multifaceted online?

The truth is I am all of these things and more, I am a multifaceted human.

I AM an artist who also happens to be an NPE, not the other way around.

The NPE thing is more of a milestone event that had a ripple effect on my art, beliefs, and inner world.

I am a mother and daughter and potter and writer and therapist who had false beliefs about my parentage, but no longer.

This is similar to other milestone events, some of which were also traumatic. The births of my children, the deaths of my a-dad, grandpa, auntie, and uncle in a short time span. My wedding day. Middle school. My birth. (lol)

So here I am, ALL the parts of me, ready to promote my art and my book. Because now I can recognize that my procrastination was resistance to being fractured.

I want all of us to feel whole, and resistant to fracture. Resilient, because we are.

We are magic. Here because of a million tiny miracles all stacked upon each other. And through this lens I can embrace my story as a miracle too. A miracle that led me to where I am today.

I feel excited to keep sharing all the parts, and support you in embracing your whole story too.

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