TWO YEARS. Two years ago, I found out the name of my biological father through Ancestry.com. He lives four miles away from me, an eight-minute drive. I have passed his house for years taking my daughter to and from the soccer fields by his home. I’m sure we have seen each other at our local sporting events, grocery stores, or town functions. For two years, I have lived in the same little town as this Read more…
My Birthday! I freaking LOVE my birthday. LOVE it. It’s my Heather Holiday. It usually starts about a week before November 23rd and can roll all the way into the middle of December. I can use this time as an excuse to do or not do things, buy myself presents, and be a little bit extra because “It’s my birthdayyyyyy…” I know you know what I am talking about! But last year on my birthday, things Read more…
That day, branded in my head. January 17th, 2019. It was a Thursday. My boyfriend, Danny, was getting ready to leave when I saw the email come through. My results were in from 23andMe. Around Christmas, I spit in a tube and sent it off to get my DNA analyzed. Danny asked me if I wanted him to open the email. I said yes. I remember being excited, but also a teeny bit apprehensive too. Read more…
Fast forward, friends. My biological father is alive and lives in the same town, just ten minutes down the road. He has 4 children, three boys, and a girl, my half-siblings. They all live within 15 minutes of me. And not one of them has acknowledged my existence. One of the many hopes I have for putting my journey out there for you all is to shine the spotlight on the stigma that is wrongfully Read more…
Dad had cancer. I had just graduated from college and was working for Jack Gibson Construction Company in their accounting department. Every day after work I would travel from Warren to Southside Hospital in Youngstown to sit with him. Seeing the strongest man I knew deteriorate to nothing was hard to watch. Dad’s skin was loose on his shrinking muscles, the color of his always-tanned skin was pale. His hair, usually long and unruly, was Read more…
East Florida Street. I wish I could remember how long it took me to tell my Dad about the lies that Stormie told me on that Wednesday night. Maybe a few months or maybe a few days. My memory of childhood events is pretty awful. Dad was living on East Florida Street on the southside of Youngstown. I was living with my Grammy. I couldn’t wait to get Stormie in trouble with my Dad. I Read more…
Drunk again. She promised me that if I moved in with her, she would only drink on the weekends. It was Wednesday night. I walked through the door after church to the site of Stormie, my biological mother, holding a pile of her beautiful red hair on top of her head. She looked straight at me and told me to cut it off. She screamed at me to cut it off. I had never lived Read more…