Rejection from genetic family feels like being the kid nobody wants on the team.
Do you remember the dread in PE when you were about to play a team sport and the students, not the teachers, would pick teams? I sure do. I remember the stress of standing on one side of the imaginary line while my classmates’ names were called. One by one they would walk to the other side, a captain having deemed them worthy of selection. And as the numbers dwindled down and everyone on the other side watched, it grew increasingly obvious which kids were unwanted on the team. Maybe you sucked at sports or, more lethal still, maybe you just weren’t “cool,” but the end result was the same: you knew where you stood in the eyes of your peers.
I get this feeling again when something jolts me back into the reality that my bio dad, his sons, his siblings, his first cousins, and his nieces and nephews want nothing to do with me. These reminders often come through posts others make on social media with regard to my biological family. I’m fortunate in that I have connected with other family members or close family friends who knew or know my paternal biological family. I appreciate the glimpses they can provide into the part of my self and ancestry that I am still just beginning to know. And as I become emotionally stronger on this journey, I hope to someday speak to them more in depth about my paternal grandparents.
But my jolt comes back when I realize I cannot freely interact with these posts. It happens when I feel like a troublemaker for even wanting to interact. It comes when I see my aunt, uncle, or cousins interact on these posts, and I know l have to stay in the shadows, avoid engaging, and keep my mouth shut. “You aren’t supposed to exist.” “You aren’t *really* a granddaughter.” “You don’t count.”
That’s what I perceive in these moments—these otherwise innocuous moments when the rest of the world sees a nice picture and pleasant commentary. For me it’s a scrap of information I am so hungry to have. And in another way it becomes a reminder that my paternal genetic family doesn’t want me on the team.
A Donor Conceived Adult 