"People face many different traumas, challenges, and experiences that form their story"

People face many different traumas, challenges, and experiences that form their story. Yet, many people decide to keep it inside. Our stories are important.

It's important because I think there are a lot of people who are dealing with similar things and feeling very alone in their process.  I've dealt with PTSD from childhood sexual assault and it has majorly affected my relationship and my self worth and ability to do what I want in my life.

I have had to overcome PTSD from sexual abuse as a child. I've worked with a variety of healers and used a lot of different techniques to process and let go of the trauma: acupuncture, biofeedback, memory reconsolidation, hypnotherapy, diet, meditation, DBT, sharing with others who were dealing with the same thing.

Things still come up - I had some reactions yesterday and the main thing was to accept that that was happening and let it move through my body. 

Today I feel better.

If I were given only one word to describe who I am, it would be Mirror.  I love seeing people deeply and reflecting them back to themselves.

In our lives, we may have people who help us through our experiences and those we consider to be influential. 

For me, “Who has been the most influential person in your life?” is a challenging question to narrow down.  I would say either my best friend or my sister.  They have both been there for me through the years.  My sister also dealt with PTSD, so she understood that part of my journey, She was, and still is, incredibly supportive.  Watching her heal herself was incredibly inspiring and gave me hope in the darkest moments.  Additionally, my best friend knows me well and reflects back to me with encouragement when I can't see it. She also taught me the skill and value of dark humour - to be able to laugh when it seems like there's nothing to laugh at.

Challenges can make us who we are. After experiencing my hardships, I have learned that I am way stronger than I thought I was.  That living in my body, rather than disassociating from it, is the key to me being able to fully engage in my life.  That pain is a gateway to a depth of life experience that I wouldn't trade.

"Finding ways to overcome challenges can be the reason we move forward"

Many people may have important stories to share and things they have been keeping inside. 

At 8 years old, for anywhere from 4 to 5 hours, I testified against my paternal grandpa, who had been charged with child sexual abuse and rape. It was December 1985. The courtroom was packed with my paternal relatives. They had all sided with my grandpa. The only person who believed me, my only ally, was my mom. 

After watching a child sexual abuse awareness video in my second grade classroom, it clicked. What was happening wasn't right. When I told my mom a year earlier about what was happening, she believed me. After I told her,she leapt into action and called the police. I was interviewed by detectives, attorneys and other court personnel. I was thrown into both individual and group therapy. There was enough evidence to go to trial but my grandpa's high powered legal team, along with assistance from my dad, who was an assistant district attorney in the county where he was charged, helped him win.

In the process of healing from such experiences, challenges will arise. Overcoming these hardships are difficult; finding ways to overcome them can be the reason we move forward.

At an early age, I was in therapy, which I believe has helped me with everything in life. I've been left with PTSD, anxiety, and mild psoriasis. Rather than sit around and let the abuse overcome me, I leapt into action, just like my mom, and have lived my life trying to overcome these challenges. 

I went to a small women's college in upstate NY, and after graduation,  I pulled myself up,  having struggled with an eating disorder and alcoholism. I  went on to start a chapter of a women's mentoring organization in Portland, Oregon. I helped grow the chapter to be the second largest in the U.S. and shortly afterwards, started doing consulting work. Through this consulting opportunity, I assisted people with disabilities to find jobs. 

My anxiety has played a huge part in overcoming challenges-- both good and bad. I've been in the consulting business for over 15 years and several years ago I purchased my first single family rental property. Many survivors struggle with just getting through daily life. My experience has propelled me forward.

One word to describe me would be determined. I like a challenge and as indicated above, I don't take no for an answer. It's important to dream big and work hard.

My mom is the most influential person in my life by far. She believed me from the get go. Her determination, and not taking no for an answer, helped me see that I can dream big. I don't see no; I see opportunities. She has also taught me that doing the footwork and focusing on that rather than the results is the most important thing in life.

Challenges we face, and experiences we have, can be learning opportunities. We get to know more about ourselves than we had ever thought before.

I have learned that I can dream big, write down goals and accomplish anything. In 2003, after I graduated from college, I was struggling with what I wanted to do with my life. I wrote down two goals I wanted to achieve that at the time felt like big goals : a). Become a small business owner b). Own my own house. 

17 years later I accomplished those goals and continue to write down even bigger goals, related to property management, savings and retirement. 

I've also learned that I was thrust into something unusual at such an early age. I don't know of any other children who have had to testify in the same room as their accuser at such a young age. That experience has allowed me to realize that I am different from my peers and that sets me apart in life, and in goal setting. 

I decided not to have children. Instead, I  focus on getting better and on my career. Sometimes I feel like an oddball because my peers have children. Yet, that has not been my path. My experience has allowed me to see that being different than others who may have taken a more traditional path in life is ok.

Facing My Inner Critic

I’ve kept inside my ideas, my thoughts, my wisdom, and my opinions all because of that nasty four-letter F-word: fear. Fear of being rejected, judged, made fun of, exposed, sounding stupid, and most of all, failing.

I had to face my inner critic. That negative voice inside my head that often tries to keep me stuck, or from taking chances on myself. I had to face imposter syndrome each time I would try something new as these old thoughts about what I could and could not do would start to surface and if I wasn’t mindful, those thoughts would take me down a rabbit hole of negative thinking about my capabilities.

I’ve had to face the naysayers. When I chose to take a big chance on myself and leave corporate, plenty of people were in my life trying to remind me that I should stay. That I should not take a chance on myself. That I should listen to the status quo and stay stuck.

I had to face the doubt that kept creeping up for me as I would take big steps outside of my comfort zone. I had to face the fear and do it scared, or I wouldn’t do it. I had to take action, despite the fear, and each time I did, I was met with love and acceptance from myself. I had to let go of the limiting beliefs that were no longer serving me well. I had let go of the fear of missing out. It was keeping me in a negative mindset. So I started to take action. Not all at once, rather in small steps. Each time I was met with success, I would feel confident enough to take another chance, to try something new, to challenge myself. The more I would stretch myself, the more I would grow and the more I wanted to take on more.

I slowed down. I practiced meditation. I began to tune into my body, mind, and soul. I asked for help. I surrounded myself with like-minded individuals. I cared for myself. I developed my voice. I had difficult conversations with others. I got out of my comfort zone and pushed myself to try new things. I began to trust my intuition. I began to downsize my life – job, home, relationships and ultimately, woke up to the possibilities and took my power back.

From everything, I learned that I was on autopilot in my life. I was letting others lead me and trusting them, and not myself. I thought that others deserved success, that they knew me better than I knew myself, and that if I just listened to others, I would be successful and happy. I was constantly looking outside of myself, and to others to solve my problems and giving away my power. I learned that I was looking to others to validate and approve of me and my ideas, when it was ME that needed to approve and validate myself. I learned that I was standing in my own way of receiving the love and acceptance that I craved from others. The more I took the love and acceptance that I so freely gave to others, and began to care for myself, the more I began to feel accepted, validated, and loved. With this new found love for myself, I began to trust myself more, and with this new trust, I was able to take bigger steps outside and my comfort zone and essentially, let go of who I was, to become who I am.

I speak my truth, wear my heart on my sleeve, and lead from the heart. I am sensitive to the needs of others and hold space for others without judgement so that they feel heard, values, and seen. I want others to hear my story of transformation to inspire them to face their fears, doubts, and limiting beliefs, so they too can start to live their happiest life.

My Journey to Motherhood

I believe we all have a "thing", could be something big, could be something small, that has made us feel alone, isolated or like we're the only person in the universe who is going through this thing. And we're all unique, so that could very much be true, but the beauty of being a human is that, through storytelling, we are all connected. So while my story may not be the same as someone else's, the ability to share my story may, just in fact, help someone else feel less alone and that's why I wanted to break my silence. So that others could feel less alone.

For me, "that thing", was my journey to motherhood. I'm now the mama of two amazing little humans. But my journey to get there was long, windy & f'ing hard. There is one moment I'll never forget that I'd like to share...

Standing alone in a sea of dozens of other commuters, I stared at my reflection through the EL window. I look like I do every day - hair tamed, make-up on, work clothes on, headphones in - check, check & check. Eyes slightly tired, but whose aren’t on a Monday morning commute? No other commuter would ever suspect by looking at me that earlier in the month, my husband and I went from being elated that we’d hit the 12 week mark of our first, hard fought, pregnancy to having to make medical decisions that would ultimately save the life of our daughter but cost the life of our son.

As I stand staring at myself, I think back to all the moments that got me to this place — standing, commuting, as if a life altering moment had not recently happened. The failed IUIs, the canceled IVF cycles, the numerous shots, vitamins, powders, acupuncture, womb massages (yup, that’s a thing. Google it), gentle yoga which got us to a place of ‘success.’ A positive pregnancy blood test - with twins no less. No one prepares a person dealing with infertility that even when you reach the ‘holy grail’ - the positive pregnancy test - things may not be perfect.

But that was the case for us, and I dealt with that news, like I did all the other blows before it. I put on my big girl pants and carried on. I dug deep - you know that feeling we all have that gets you through those nights studying for finals, the big deadline at work. I soldered on and went back to work, my daily routine. I didn’t give myself the time or the space to grieve and I put on the face, the armor, and did all the things I was supposed to do. Out worldly, I celebrated the little girl that I was carrying while inside I struggled with resentment, shame, guilt, anger - both for the process of even getting to this spot and for the decisions we had to make. 

To anyone looking at me without knowing me, they’d see a pregnant woman, celebrating her pregnancy. To anyone who knew me, they’d see someone who just bought their first ‘adult’ house, who had just been promoted at work - who by all of society’s standards - ‘had it all.’ What they didn’t see, what I didn’t let anyone see, was the night creeping into what would be my daughters room and lying on the floor in the fetal position looking at the grey walls (because it would be great for a daughter AND a son) but not letting myself cry. They never saw the heartache every time I looked at the Bugaboo Donkey Stroller, that now only had one seat, instead of the twin extension. They never saw the ache in my chest any time someone with twins brought up how difficult it is to have twins. They also never saw the shame, the guilt over the decisions we made or why we made them. On the outside, I had it all. On the inside, I was crumbling, a shell of myself.

As I stared at myself in that subway car window, I recall thinking that no one would ever guess what my husband and I just went through, but how would they? I never took off my armor, not once. Not even to those closest to me or my husband. How many of my fellow commuters that day had their own stories? Their own armor that they put on each day? What stories are not being told because we’ve all put on our armor for the day?

For me, there was a lot of shame tied to my journey to motherhood and the subsequent decisions I was forced to make. I felt that my body had 'failed' me and I couldn't do the "one thing" that I was supposed to do naturally. I come from a large Italian family and had always assumed I'd be a mom. It felt like, at the time, I was failing at both my natural ability as a woman and I was failing my husband. In addition, once we finally became pregnant & it became clear just how fatally ill our son was in-utero, and the impact that could have on his twin sister & myself, we had to make decisions that I also held a lot of shame around. Again, I felt like I had failed "being a mother" because I couldn't keep my son safe.

I'll be honest, it took me a long time to overcome the mental gymnastics I played with myself. I played the 'woe is me' card for quite some time, because it was easier then having to deal with it. I just shoved my feelings down real tight, and threw away the key. However, I always felt that there was a part of me not being true to myself by keeping those emotions locked down. So I started to journal, I started to write about 'moments' of my journal. For me, it was so healing to be able to write down my story and it helped me recognize that there was power in owning my story, which led me to becoming more vocal about my Truth.

My daughters have, by far, been the most influential people in my life. While only 4 & 2, I want them to be able to look at me many years from now and know I did everything I could to model the values/behaviors I want them to emulate - courage, strong, kindness & respect. I will not always succeed, but I will always try to lead by example and they are the driving force behind that.

In the past, I was driven by ego. By that I mean, I was motivated by titles, by labels, by monetary gains. And while I would be lying if I didn't say I don't think about those things at times, it's no longer what is motivating me. I would now say I'm driven by being true to who I am, what I need and how I can be in service to others.

We are so much stronger than we give ourselves credit for. We all have hardships - big, small and everything in between. There is magic in owning your story instead of having your story own you. And I am now living proof of that. I am freed from the enormous weight of my stories, weight I didn't even know I was carrying. Now I can look at situations and can have empathy for each person because I can understand that I will never understand where that person is coming from, but I can hold space for that person to feel seen & heard, even if I don't agree with them. Imagine if we could all approach situations with that mentality. That's the world I want my two daughters to grow up in. A place where people can have constructive conversations with people of differing viewpoints but still have everyone feel seen and heard.

“The most influential person you will talk to all day is you.”

My story is that of a young girl who wanted to escape, to experience the world and free herself from a country in turmoil where men laid the law.

It is one of perseverance, of growth, of fighting very hard to seek and ultimately attain independence.

I have started on my own from scratch twice, in countries where I knew no one and had little to no support system whilst coming from a reality that was so starkly different by comparison.

I have faced destitution, prolonged loneliness, going temporarily blind in an eye from acute stress, 11 years of a confining and demanding immigration system, depression, and a challenging childhood.

Getting through the difficult times in my childhood was about survival.

Reading voraciously was one thing that greatly helped me.

The other was the ability to dream that one day I would be able to leave and build something better and freer for myself. I did not know what that was, how it would look life and what challenges I would face along the way, but I knew I was burning for it.

When the opportunity presented itself to leave my country of birth at 17, I took it without hesitation or thinking twice. I dove right in and took all the risks I didn’t know existed and that I would face.

I overcame the other challenges that flew my way over the years after I left through pure tenacity, hope and willpower.

I knew what awaited me if I were to give up and go back – although it was a tempting thought many times when I was down and exhausted – and I knew for a fact there was no going back.

So, I made that my mission.

I didn’t know at the time that this was a well-known philosophy, but for me there was no plan B, so I had to make plan A work – the only one I had – regardless of the struggles and the unknowns.

I have had the luck and privilege to be supported by many incredible people, beautiful souls, and trailblazing minds who bring so much good to humanity and endlessly inspire me.

I am forever grateful and indebted to them and I hope they know who they are.

The one I will single out, however, is my mother.

Her first and only pregnancy was difficult and almost took her life twice. At four months, she was advised to terminate it, but categorically refused and went on to painfully, and somehow miraculously, carry to term. She didn’t give up on me then, and despite the hardships – or perhaps because of them – she not only tried to find opportunities for me, but selflessly allowed me to dive off the side of a very tall abyss at a young age, fearing that I might fall, but believing that I would fly to pursue and create a better outcome for myself. She encouraged me to break free where she may have been unable to do so herself. I am the light of her eyes and she is so to mine.

Through a lot of slow and ongoing self-work, I have realized though and finally believe that the most influential person in my life is me.

I also recently came across a quote that has stayed with me: “The most influential person you will talk to all day is you.”

I believe this is true for all of us.

My story is unusual in the sense that very few women, let alone 17 years old girls, immigrated from my country in search of more and better possibilities at that time. This was primarily the domain of single men and families. Or tragically of the countless girls and women who were kidnapped or sold into prostitution. I wanted to change that narrative and show - first and foremost to myself – that I could pave a different way. In doing so and unknown to me, I inspired two female cousins to do the same a year later.

I hope that sharing this publicly now inspires other girls and women wherever they may be that they can change their narrative.

They are strong and brave, and they possess immense light and the power to be wild. To break free. To overcome, soar high, and shine bright. No one can take this away from them.

The power is there.

In their hands, in their mind, in their strength, in their vision, dreams and determination.

One World, One Heart, Two Families

We are all united in this journey of life. There is a sense of interconnectedness we all feel when we share stories and hear others’ stories. There’s comfort in knowing no matter who we are, or where we’ve been, we are all in this together.

I was born in Seoul, South Korea and my life’s foundation was created in Missouri, where I was adopted as an infant and raised in a small town. The journey is ongoing. Feeling different, feeling the same. Knowing I look different than my family, forgetting that I do. Questions about my identity, acceptance just as I am. Feeling white but not Korean, feeling Korean but not white. Two different cultures, one world. All co-exist. And everything in between.

I’ve experienced the journey of loving adoptive parents in America and the journey of reunion with my biological family in Korea. Over a decade ago, medical health concerns activated my desire to search for my biological roots to learn about my medical history. I found my birth family in a relatively short time. Reunion was far more challenging than I could have ever prepared myself for. As a child, I remember thinking if I just met my birth family even once, they’d answer all the questions that plagued me as a child. My naive and youthful imagination conjured up many blissful possible scenarios of us meeting, and they were far more pleasant than reality. In reality, the reunion brought on a multitude of complexities and new questions. Many of which will never be answered. As a child, I thought freedom would come from the peace of having my questions answered. I now know freedom and peace does not come from an external source or answers. True freedom is knowing I can fly with or without these answers. The answers and/or lack of answers no longer weighs me down. Subscribing to this weight would mean giving up a life of joy and peace to be at the mercy of unanswered questions. Peace is a choice. It is a choice I embrace even as I navigate my relationships with my two families and embrace both with gratitude and grief, certainty and uncertainty.

Living life through my perspective an an adoptee is my perspective of life since I was an infant. My experience with reuniting with my biological roots has heightened my sense of compassion for every individual, adoptee or not. It is what inspires my interest in community and connection. Everyone, at the end of the day, wants to feel seen and heard and supported. And, at the end of the day, we are all connected in some way.

After years of questioning why I am here and if I have a true place in the world, I am grateful for the peace that comes with knowing why I am and that I do. I am invested in increasing awareness about adoption and in sharing the power of transformation. It is for everyone. We all have a purpose. And while some parts of my life were once riddled with reluctance, shame and confusion after listening to so much external noise then subsequently questioning myself, I have befriended this entire experience as an adoptee. We are very close friends...the ups and downs. The grace, the madness. The confidence, the inner child. The surviving, the thriving. The two families in this one world. The ongoing journey and navigation, entirely supported by listening to my inner voice and heart, wherever I am, all over the world.

Searching for Roots

I was born in Incheon, South Korea. I was placed in an orphanage after birth and stayed there until I was 6 months old and then flew to the US to my adoptive parents. Unfortunately, I have no memory of the orphanage, but the records that I received with my adoption file seem to state that everything was fine. A couple in Minnesota adopted me when I was just 6 months old.

Early on, I got along with my family very well, but unfortunately my adoptive mother lost her battle to breast cancer when I was just 7. 

I grew up in a small town in Minnesota, and there were few Asians growing up. I was just another Asian face in a sea of white faces. Being in a transracial adoption was very hard and it wasn't until recently that I really had a firm foundation to my identity.

My parents raised me not to see color, but I wish instead that they had raised me to believe that seeing color is okay and that it’s not something bad. It was always hard to identify as a person of color because I was raised in a while family, so it almost felt taboo to identify as anything other than white.

My adoptive father lost his battle to ALS a year ago. It has taken a lot of therapy to work past all of the issues, especially my adoptive mother dying when I was 7.

I had a history of self sabotage that I never really assumed was related or even an issue until the last couple of years. Currently though, I have maybe weekly or bimonthly contact with my stepmother.

I have not reunited with my birth parents. I went searching for my birth mother in 2018 and currently I am at a dead end. As of right now I do not have any information on my birth father.

However, I enjoyed being able to travel back to South Korea and learning more about my heritage. I want to return to Korea and learn to speak Korean. I would also like to continue with my birth parent search.

I want others to know that other adoptees aren't alone and that we all have similar experiences.

Strength and Resilience

As adoptees, our stories begin in another land -- they begin with immigration. Our stories may be different from that of most immigrants, but as immigrants, we share the strength and resilience that are necessary to uproot ourselves and begin a new life in a foreign land not of our choosing.

I was born in CheChon, South Korea. I have a biological brother who is a year and a half younger than me. We were both placed in an orphanage in the city that we were born in. I don't know who my birth parents are. I am currently in the process of finding out more about my adoption story and about my birth parents.

My adoptive mom couldn't have kids of her own because she had ovarian cancer. She always wanted children so both her and my dad made the decision to adopt. They went through Holt International for their adoption process. One night at dinner, they received a phone call from their case manager that they had a brother and sister that they wanted to place in a home and asked if my parents would be interested in adopting a brother and sister that they wanted to keep together. Before, my parents could say yes, they talked about it while keeping the case manager on the phone. They agreed to adopt both of us without any hesitation.

I was adopted on April 7, 1988. I was five when I was adopted. The first year, I had to learn a new language and acclimate to my new surroundings and to my new family. I was too young to comprehend that I was being adopted. I was told by my mom how scared I was when I first  met my new family. I didn't talk. They were surprised because they were told that I was outgoing and talkative but that first initial meeting I was shy and apprehensive. My mom also told me how that first night in my new home how I cried going to sleep.

My family made sure that both my brother and I adapted very well and made sure that we were being taken care of mentally, emotionally and physically. I don't recollect any prior knowledge of my adoptive family. My parents did receive pictures of both my brother and I along with medical information and our background as to why we were placed in the orphanage along with other information about both my brother and I. My relationship with my adoptive parents growing up has always been a good one. They have supported me in everything that I have ever done.

As I grew older, I began to struggle with my identity. I've always known that I was adopted and a person of color. That was something I struggled with. I would communicate to my parents how I was dealing with these things and they listened and it was hard on them as well that I was going through this period of questioning who I was. My dad past away when I was 25 from cancer. My mom and I had a rough patch after he died but now we have reconciled and she has been the one constant person who has been there for me during my struggles of anxiety and depression and living a life of sobriety.

Adoption has made me see the world differently and how I love people. As an adoptee, I feel that I am more of an inclusive person and more accepting of others because of my parents and how they opened their home to both my brother and I without any hesitations.

Besides adapting to my new surroundings, the one challenge I had to overcome and still work through is fear of abandonment. Even though I love people, I am always worrying about being abandoned and left behind. I am grateful for my small group of friends who help me through this. Fear of abandonment is one of the causes for my anxiety. I get anxious when I feel that I am not heard but more so when I am alone for long periods of time. I allow myself to spin in circles by questioning myself about whether my actions were right or wrong or whether I did or did not do enough, or whether I said something wrong or not.

For a long time, I have allowed fear and my anxiety to hold me back from achieving my purpose that God has planned out for my life. The one area I am proud of is my heart of hospitality and willingness to serve people and meet them where they are at in their lives.

My biggest dream is to own a house and open my home to a family/individuals in the refugee community and live life with them. For most of my life, I have had a desire to go into ministry and living life on a daily basis with people in the refugee community is where I am called to serve. This year, I have enrolled in a discipleship training class to help jump start and fulfill my dream. My other dream is to write a book one day. However, my two biggest goals this year, are to visit Korea and to get my ESL teaching certification.

As adoptees, society forgets that we are immigrants as well and our stories often are forgotten and untold. As an Asian-American, I've become more aware of who I am and how I fit into the immigration story. There is a lot of pain in my immigration story. Yes, I am someone's daughter but I am still treated as an “other” by society. I am still being marginalized. My voice isn't often heard. My face is often not seen. I am in this constant tug-of-war between where I am from, who I am as an Asian-American woman, and how I belong. Being torn from our roots is something that all adoptees experience. We have a need to seek the truth about where we're from even though it may be impossible to do so. I hope to find my birth parents and I hope that they were both okay.