There is a particular aloneness – one that is not warmed by the love of friends, spouses or children.  It’s a cold, stark aloneness that occupies my core.

It’s been as defining and ever-present as my DNA. Always there, chasing me in one particular direction or another. Sometimes I slow my steps and just let it be with me, but not for long as it’s so heavy and it hurts to carry it.

This aloneness isn’t just a feeling of sheer terror; it’s a piece of my BEING. When I’m with it, I don’t feel terrified, I AM terror.

If this is resonating with you – then you, too, have been abandoned. The experience is worse than death.

I was a newborn when abandoned by the first mother. I remember it – will always remember it, because that kind of trauma echoes throughout one’s Life.

I was not wanted. I am not wanted. It’s true – she said it to me.

So searching for her is all I have.

There’s comfort in the search. It’s familiar. I’ve spent years searching, hoping, wishing, crying, praying and “getting over it.”

In the search I find only bits and pieces of public information, but it’s SOMETHING that affirms she exists. As long as she exists, I have a very dim hope in a very dark world. I have the dim hope of a deathbed confession about the child she gave away. Then maybe I’ll get to see her one more time or maybe she’ll finally tell my brothers. And maybe I’ll finally exist.