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Ancestry.com has become very popular in the past 10-15 years. I decided to join Ancestry.com in 2019. My husband and I took our tests initially and then I bought my parents the tests a few months later. Ancestry can be as public or as private as you like. You also have the option to delete your DNA results at any time. If you have been thinking about joining Ancestry.com but are on the fence, check out a few of the features listed below. I pay a little extra to see the detailed documents because those interest me, but the basic plan also gives you tons of information into your family history. One of the new features of ancestry.com breaks down which parts of your ethnicity you obtained from which parent. The technology allows for this even without your parents' DNA - which as a scientist by trade - amazes me! I love that I have access to so many historical documents through Ancestry.com. I have seen marriage records, birth and death certificates, census records, military paperwork, and immigration records.
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Have you ever been picked last for a team or a project? Have you ever been sitting at the END of a table and no one really acknowledged your presence during the lively, laugh-out-loud dinner that everyone else seemed to be having? Have you ever been cut off during a conversation when someone "cooler or prettier or funnier or more magnetic" stepped into the mix? What if you vote a certain way but you're surrounded by others who vote differently? You want them to love you for you, but are you having to hide part of yourself in order to belong? What if you have a different opinion but keep it to yourself in fear of others' reactions? What if you don't even feel like you belong in your own home? Isn't home supposed to be your safe space?
So, again, I think we have all experienced this feeling. Disconnected. Cast out. Overlooked. Unwanted. Unnecessary. Unimportant. Small. Invisible. Rejected. Source: Brene Brown's Atlas of the Heart Since we all know we can't control the thoughts or actions of others, let's focus on what WE can do the next time we feel this way. Here are 10 ways you can (and I do these myself) try to reach the feeling of BELONGING again:
Now let us review. Somebody somewhere made you feel left out, unwanted, or overlooked. You start to list all the reasons you are just that: unwanted and overlooked. Then you REMEMBER these tips to get back to belonging and you pull at least one of them out. Consider it a secret weapon. Use it. Allow yourself to feel both ways - both the ickiness of unbelonging and the comfort of true connection once you have found your way back. Teach someone else you love how to do this the next time they call you searching for validation. And hey. Just so you know, I would pick you. Godspeed.
In olden days your last name often described your family’s occupation and reflected your status in the community. The Bakers baked bread. The Carpenters built things out of wood. The Smiths crafted items from iron, silver, and gold. For as long as I can remember I’ve known I was adopted, so my family name was not my own and seemed to reveal nothing about me. That’s not to say I wasn’t treasured as a longed-for baby adopted at nine months and an adored only child until I was six when my adopted brother joined our family as a four-year-old stranger. Let’s say my family’s name was Farmer. Although I was unconditionally loved by the whole Farmer clan, I never felt like a Farmer. My mom had a laid-back temperament. Mine was more intense. My mom liked to sew. I had no inclination as a seamstress. Fitting my dresses, she often commented on my wide shoulders and narrow waist, so unlike her own figure. When I was in fourth grade, I discovered I had a different first name before I was adopted, and growing up, always wondered what was behind that name. Who were my people, and what were they like? (For the details of that fourth-grade episode, see my blog “Carried.”) Out of respect for my adoptive mom and dad, however, I never searched for my biological parents while they were alive. But when my adoptive parents passed away, my husband said, “Your bio mother and father are getting old too. If you want to find them, you better hurry up,” so we opened the green metal box always kept in the downstairs closet of my childhood home and dug through official papers to find my adoption agency. When I read the family history they shared, I discovered a great uncle was active in community theatre, and so was I. Another great uncle was a teacher of foreign language who later became a diplomat to Uganda. I got my masters in language, literacy and culture, and my favorite job later in life was teaching English to brand-new immigrants. When I finally met my bio mom, she invited me on a family vacation. We walked a Cape Cod beach, and I marveled that her body was shaped just like mine. My husband videoed us chatting, so I could see how our animated mannerisms mirrored each other. She shared my grandmother's favorite flowers were lilacs, my favorite scent, and that my grandmother was a DJ for a classical music and public affairs radio station. I’d just gotten into opera, but when my mom played my grandmother's favorite arias, they were mine. The icing on the cake was when she told me, a writer, that my great, great, great grandfather was Nathaniel Hawthorne. Recently, my husband urged me to do a 23 and me DNA test, to locate my bio dad's family we’d never been able to connect with. As a result, I found a bio half-brother and subsequently the rest of his siblings. Neither of my maternal half-sibs look like me, so when I saw my paternal half-sibs, I was stunned. Let’s call my father’s family The Jones. There was no denying I was a Jones. Recently someone told me, “Trauma can be not only something bad that happened to you, but the lack of something you desperately needed.” This average family resemblance flooded a gaping void I was unaware of. In fact, I felt more connected to the half-brother I just met than to my adopted brother who’s felt like a stranger all my life. All this to say, whether you’re adopted or not, there is power in knowing your name and everything behind it! My adoption simply highlighted the security of being connected to your family by blood, seeing your image reflected in another, and understanding that the way you’re designed is clearly a gift from God, above and beyond any influence from your environment. I didn’t realize how much I needed to be acknowledged by my real father. Without a father you are unclaimed, unnamed, and unprotected from the shame that labels you a misbegotten, out-of-wedlock bastard. Harsh, but those words are synonyms for illegitimate, the term that lived just beneath my skin my whole life. That’s why my most important name is still not my own, but it reveals everything about me. Under the banner of Christ, no matter my origin or circumstances, I am a chosen, holy, beloved member of the family of God with a blood connection to Jesus, the first born of many siblings. Together may we reflect his image above all others for the rest of our days. Thank you Ann for your beautiful words and vulnerability. May God continue to bless you and your family. What's in a name? I have been married twice. I dated my first husband six years before we got married, and we were married 7 years. We didn't have any children. I've been married to my current husband for 12 years now and we have raised 3 children together. My step-son was 7 when we got married (19 now and out of the house), and our boys are 9 and 11. What is bizarre is that neither of my husbands have a very close relationship with their fathers. In fact, I have never met either of their fathers. To take that even further, I have never met a SINGLE person on either of their father's side of the family. So... to put that into practical terms, I have had a last name for 19 of my 45 years that really had no "meaning" to me. My first husband was the only "Smith" (not his name, but just using as an example) I knew but then I carried that name. My second husband is the only Cobb I know other than our 3 children. Let that sink in for a moment. This has made for some very awkward life moments:
Since I'm really into family in general, and I love old family names and family history, I bought my parents an Ancestry.com kit for Mother's or Father's Day one year. I also bought one for myself and my husband. I love looking back at all of our relatives and heritage, but building my husband's family tree has been difficult. This has led me into some deep thought (doesn't take much for me to go deep 😜).
In my opinion, a name carries weight. Identity matters. Having always worked in the medical field, my name is something I sign every single day. I prescribe medicine so it appears on prescription bottles and insurance claims and lab and imaging orders. Nurses answer the phone "Amy Cobb's office, how may I help you?" I am listed as a primary care provider for about 2000 people. I don't mention this as if I am anything special. I most certainly am not. But do I feel odd having a last name plastered all over HealthGrades and pill bottles when I have no physical, emotional, or spiritual connection to the name? Yes, I am married to a Cobb. But what makes him a "Cobb?" I can't grin at my husband and say "you laugh just like your daddy." I can't look at my boys and tell them they have the Cobb nose or the Cobb stubborn streak. I can't say "boys, your grandfather would have loved to see you hit that ball, march that field, fix that jet." I don't know any Cobb recipes or Cobb traditions. I don't know if or where they went to church, what music they loved, or how they earned a living. And so again, is this how fatherless children feel? What about the motherless child? Is it the name that carries the weight or the connection itself with a parent, a heritage, a history? For my adopted friends and patients, what does their adopted name mean to them? Is it a name filled with love, hope, and acceptance or is it a daily reminder of what could have been and what may never be? Not knowing anyone else with my name is a first-world problem. I realize that. But it is a thing. I'm learning to acknowledge my "things." I'm learning to feel those feelings, name what's missing or hurting, and process what thoughts can do to my body. Is this shame I am feeling? Regret? Did I even do anything wrong? Who is to blame - or is blame even required? Another ebb and flow in the circle of life, the jagged bonds of connectedness that barely keep us together - sometimes by one single strand of a lineage. I reached out to my writing group to see if any adopted writers had a perspective about the meaning of a name. Ann C. Averill wrote a beautiful piece about her experience with her name, and I am happy to feature it as a guest post on 10/12/21. Thank you, Ann, for your bravery and vulnerability to share with my readers. ❤️
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