Adopted.

For a long time, that word meant something very different to me.

Unwanted. Unloved. Rejected. Not important. Not good enough.

Those were the words I carried, sometimes because I heard them, sometimes because they were implied, and sometimes because they were simply how I felt.

In my late thirties, I became a foster parent hoping I might heal some of those old wounds by giving a child the home I thought would make everything make sense. I did not fully understand it at the time. I only knew I felt called to foster.

What I learned was that unhealed pain does not stay hidden forever. It shows up everywhere.

It showed up in me. It showed up in the children in my home. It affected my marriage, my health, and the way I moved through the world.

Eventually I realized something that changed everything:

If I did not heal, I could not help my children heal.

So I began the real work. Not just surviving. Healing.

Now I speak and write so others do not have to keep carrying the same lies I once carried.

Unwanted. Unloved. Rejected. Not good enough.

Those words were never the truth.

Now I am:

Wanted. Loved. Accepted. Enough.

I speak and write about healing, identity, foster care, adoption, and the quiet places where truth begins.