Personalities: genetic dispositions or learned traits?

The Story:

In a world were scientific findings seems to teeter back and forth on what is the accepted standard, I find myself pondering the origins of my personality. Some evidence seems to indicate that these traits are passed genetically from one generation to the next while other research shows that personalities are learned. So, I struggle to understand who or what has made me the way I am.

After finding my biological family last year, I’ve attempted to determine which of my traits are genetic and which have been learned. Are they all learned, or are they all genetic? My current theory is that my personality is simply a mish-mash of both. Although, I have no definitive answers, as of yet. Below are a couple of examples to help clarify my argument.

Growing up, I had always considered my ability to excel at reading, writing (syntax and diction), and my vocabulary to have been passed on to me by my adoptive father. He has always been a very well spoken and well-written person. Subsequently, I assumed that his skills must have rubbed off.

Well, that’s what I had thought until I came across some stories related to my birth mother. As multiple sources have confirmed, she was quite the grammar-queen. I try not to indulge in too much grammar and spelling correction of my peers. On occasion, though, I find myself doing just that. I know enough to speak American-English well, but I am by no means an expert. Perhaps these traits were both genetic and learned, but there’s another example to discuss.

Why do I view money as something that’s meant to be earned and burned rather than something to be made and saved? My adoptive parents seem to be great with money. Even my siblings seem to stay out of too much financial trouble. Why is it then that I always used to find myself on the path of hell-bent spending? As a youth, my adoptive father made me work for my money before I was old enough to get a real job. Is there a protein somewhere in my genetic make-up that has predisposed me to my current behavior? That question I cannot answer due to my lack of knowledge regarding my biological family’s financial habits.

My list of examples pertaining to this subject could probably fill-up a phone directory, but I believe that my point has been made. Despite the scientific arguments that personalities are either genetically linked or learned, I still have no definitive answers for myself. Undoubtedly, I will spend many more occasions pondering the origins of my personality. Personalities are tricky like that.  

The Emotions:

To state my feelings plainly, I have no emotional preference as to where my personality traits originated. I’ve accepted myself, but I’m still curious. I simply find it entertaining to try and figure out why I act one way or another. Sides don’t need to be chosen, and feelings need not be hurt. I’m proud to be the way I am no matter which part of my family it comes from.

The Advice:

I suppose that if you were adopted then you’ll have some of the same concerns regarding your behavioral patterns. To be clear, there’s not a damn thing wrong with such questions. Some family members may take offense, but those are issues that can probably be solved through open discussions. If you’re not content with who you’ve become then you’re probably attempting to be someone you’re not, and I have no doubt that your family only cares about who you truly are.

- Andrew

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

THE STORY:

During one of many phone conversations with my sister Amy, we got on the subject of our mother’s ashes. We had not spoken much about our mother’s funeral, or what had been done with her remains. I assumed that she had been buried, but I learned that Amy was the guardian her ashes.

By the end of that conversation, she had made me a very interesting offer. It was not the type that you get at a mall, or from a car dealership. This offer was more melancholy, and by no means financially advantageous.

Her proposal was quite simple. She wanted me to have half of our mother’s ashes. She felt that it was “only fair.” I reacted with a sheepish chuckle because the offer was so unexpected. How could I turn her down, though? Well, I couldn’t, and so I happily accepted.

THE EMOTIONS:

Not that it needs to be written, but I’ve never been a big fan of death. I have always found the associated pain, regret, helplessness, and depression to be uncomfortable topics. I’ve been to my share of funerals for both the too young and the not quite old enough, and they never get easier to stomach.

Even though I wasn’t able to meet my biological mother, I was given the opportunity to have a part of her physical self. However “morbid” (her word, not mine) the offer may seem, it was necessary and appreciated. How could it not have been? She was offering me the cremated remains of our murdered mother! As unexpected as her offer had been, it was the most considerate thing she could have done. I felt like I deserved to have part of our mother’s remains, and it was obvious that Amy felt the same.

However depressing it was to consider my mother’s murder, I felt that there was at least one positive aspect; I had found my biological family before too many other members had succumbed to death. I can only imagine how much more painful it would have been had I wasted anymore time.

Our conversation did force me to question my own mortality, once again. I don’t really know whether I’d prefer to be buried, or cremated. Cremation is the economical option, but burial is so much more traditional. Plus, there’s the issue of determining where to be buried. My connection to the Midwest is very strong, but I’ve never lived so far away from this area that I ever yearned to come back. I’ve never truly missed this place. So, I don’t feel obligated to rest here.

THE ADVICE:

Dealing with a parental death is a big deal. Especially if you were adopted, and you never had the opportunity to meet said parent. I have complete empathy. If you find yourself in a position similar to mine then my best advice is this; find satisfaction in the family that is still living. Those are the people who can help you feel closer to the departed.

I could whine about my biological mother’s death, but what could I possibly expect to accomplish? Sure, it’s somewhat of a crappy deal, but her murder shouldn’t negate all of the positives to come from my search. Even with the death of my mother, I still have tons of family, and I’m quite satisfied with that. They have managed to provide me with details of my mother’s character and personality. So, now I know her better than ever.

If you’re offered the chance to visit your deceased parent’s grave or receive their remains, then you ought to accept. I have no idea what I will do with my biological mother’s ashes, but at least I’ll have them.  At least I’ll be able to have her closer to my life no matter how morbid that might seem.

 - Andrew

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

The Story:

Recently, a columnist with the St. Louis Post Dispatch published an article about the search for my biological family. The story, smack-dab on the front page of the newspaper’s Community section, was primarily about my search and how he and I came to meet one another. Interestingly, his article came at a time when the Illinois legislature passed a new law requiring “the state to provide basic medical information and an accurate birth certificate to adoptees…” (clarification: the photo next to the article headline in the image to the left is of the columnist, Tony Messenger)

That’s how my search began. I needed to know about my biological family’s health background. Unfortunately, the state of Missouri still requires a court order to open those records. Luckily, I didn’t end up having to take that route. Instead, my adoptive uncle was able to track down my biological aunt via his family connections.  

When I woke up the Sunday that the article was published, I decided to read the web-based version first. Afterward, I ventured out to the local market and purchased five hard copies of the newspaper. I stood at the publication racks and flipped through the massive paper searching for the community section. I yanked it out, and got my first glimpse of the article on the front page.

When I arrived home from the store, I proceeded to package and mail copies of the article to some of my family members. Throughout that day, I received a few phone calls and text messages. All were very congratulatory!

Here’s a link to the article at www.stltoday.com.

The Emotions:

There’s no doubt that I felt quite accomplished when I read Tony’s column. My story had finally achieved some more recognition. My attempts to get the article published were not all for selfless reasons. Indeed, I wanted my blog to receive more local exposure. This, in turn, would hopefully provide me with a larger list of subscribers. I certainly wanted the conversation about child adoption to spread, and I knew that breaking that barrier would help others.

The selfish reasons weren’t sinister, though. I simply wanted my story, and the stories of my family, to be heard by a larger audience. I felt that the stories were historically interesting and emotionally charged. I have no interest in splashing my family’s secrets all over the web and other media. I just knew that people would eat that stuff up like an orphaned child at dinnertime.

My overall satisfaction came from knowing that all of that had happened because I made the effort. I wanted more exposure for my story and the institution of child adoption, and I helped make it happen. My goal was accomplished, and now I’m moving onto the next. Will my family’s story make it onto the NYT’s Bestseller list, or will someone write a screenplay? I suppose there might be a chance if I continue to spark the conversation.

Besides all of that, reading a news article about oneself is certainly strange. I was anxious to see how I was quoted, and whether the story was presented accurately. Overall, I was very satisfied with Tony’s column, and I’ve let him know.

The Advice:

Once again, my advice focuses on making more people aware of child adoption. I have found that the best way to do that is to talk about something I know. Well, I certainly know about my own personal experiences with adoption, and I can’t think of a better source for material.

Like I stated previously, I’ve been writing about my adoption for different reasons. The point is that anyone with the interest in telling their story can help to spark more conversation on the subject. It has been a strange trip for me, but I’m taking it all in day by day.

If you don’t like the idea of placing details of your family’s history on the web, then don’t. I’m always worrying about that, but I’ve done my best to write detailed accounts while limiting the amount of embarrassing or inappropriate material. So, I would suggest everyone else do the same with their stories. Either way, telling your story should be an enlightening and valuable experience.

So, do you think it’s wise to write about your personal situations on the web where all can see? Is it more reasonable if those personal stories are meant to help and inform others? If you have any thoughts, please feel free to leave a comment.

- Andrew

The First Call

The Story:

Well, one Sunday a couple of weeks after I mailed my dad the adoption registry form, I received a call from my uncle Henry. To provide you with some background on my Uncle Henry, he is the husband of my adoptive mother’s sister. What’s more interesting is that he acted as the middleman during my private adoption (although, there was an attorney in Columbia, MO working on the case).

Since I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, I ignored the call altogether. My logic was that it was probably a stranger dialing the wrong number. I get those types of calls quite often. Shortly thereafter, a voice mail alert popped up on my phone. I listened to the message, and quickly realized who had previously tried to call. Since it was a bit too late to call back, I decided to return Henry’s call the following day.

Monday finally came, and that afternoon I headed out to my car during lunch. I dialed my uncle’s phone number. The ringer rang and rang, but someone finally answered. On the other end was the voice of my uncle. Even though he and my aunt were still living in Saint Louis, it had been a few years since the last time we had all spoken. Henry began the conversation by explaining that he had spoken to my dad a few days prior. He said that my father had informed him that I had begun the initial search for information on my biological family. According to my adoptive dad, this is basically what transpired during their phone conversation:

“Andrew had been discussing with me his desire to find medical history information. I knew, because that sort of information would be hard to find in public records, that Andrew's best source would come from members of his biological family. I had no contact information because the adoption process had been handled by third parties, and I had no contact with the family. I did, however, know that Andrew's adoptive uncle did have contact information, or at least had a way to get that information.”

“I explained to Andrew's uncle the objective of the search, and he immediately agreed to attempt to make contact to see whether the family would be willing to share information. Frankly, I held out little hope that, after so many years had passed, that Andrew's uncle would meet with success. Clearly, I underestimated his resourcefulness. A couple of weeks later, he called to report that the family would be willing to meet with Andrew and provide at least some background information. I passed this onto Andrew, and he took it from there.”

Henry explained to me that he, after hearing from my dad, had begun his own search on my behalf. He wasn’t able to provide me with any details, but at the time I don’t think he really had much information to present. The conversation came to an end shortly thereafter, and I decided to sit in the parking lot and contemplate what had just transpired.

The Emotions:

More than anything, I felt very confused after that initial phone call. It was kind of like a cloud had engulfed my thoughts. I couldn’t think clearly about the situation, and that forced me to put my emotions aside. I figured that it would make more sense to worry about what my uncle might find when he actually found something. I did, however, feel very lucky that my uncle was so enthusiastic about aiding in my search.

I also felt very relieved that I had my uncles’ help and support. Honestly, up till that point, I hadn’t even really considered what my plan-of-attack would be once the state received my adoption registry application. I suppose that I would have just waited around until I received word from a biological family member. Obviously, that plan was lacking, but I wasn’t a private investigator. All of those thoughts racing through my mind were simply exhausting. 

The Advice:

I had no well-thought plan when I decided to begin my search. I just figured that taking the first small step would eventually lead into the next. There doesn’t seem to be a perfect time to begin searching. All an adoptee really needs is a desire to understand his true origins. Adoptees ought to begin a search when they feel the most comfortable. I wasn’t getting any younger, and neither were my biological family members. I knew that waiting too long would probably come back to bite me in my ass.

The primary piece of advice to take away from this portion of my story is this - Take the first step however large or small it might seem. Being proactive is the key. Sure, an adoptee can sit around and wait for something to happen. But what if that never occurs? For adoptees, when/if you receive that initial phone call please don’t fret. It will be the first step towards your biological enlightenment!

- Andrew

Seeking My Medical History

The Story:
Skipping ahead in my story a few years, I finally decided to begin the search for my biological family’s medical history on October 5, 2009. I spent a few nights searching the web site of the Missouri Department of Social Services¹. I was able to download some forms from the State's Adoption Information Registry² that I could use to potentially secure that information. Come to find out, though, this process wouldn’t necessarily gain me access to medical histories. It would, however, make my contact information available to those biological family members who were interested in finding me, if any.

My reason for finally beginning my search for medical information was very simple. I was tired of having to explain to my doctors that I had no knowledge of my family’s medical background. I figured that males and females of all ages die everyday from undiagnosed hereditary health issues. The fact of the matter was that I needed to know what I was up against.

So, I printed the forms from the DSS’s web site, and filled them out with as much information as I could. The rest, however, would be left up to my adoptive parents. According to the Missouri DSS’s web site, adult adoptees that were adopted prior to August 13, 1986 must provide the written consent of their adoptive parent(s). After finalizing everything on my end, I packaged up the documents and mailed them to my Dad.

Sources:

¹Missouri Department of Social Services http://www.dss.mo.gov/cd/adopt/

²Adoption Information Registry http://www.dss.mo.gov/cd/adopt/adoir.htm

The Emotions:

I was a bit concerned with what I might be getting myself into by sending in the application to the Missouri DSS. All I wanted was a medical history, but the potential for gaining identifying information about my biological family was a little nerve-racking. At that point, I hadn’t really prepared myself for such a situation. It may seem to be of no consequence to some, but being able to provide a medical doctor with my medical background is pretty important in diagnosing potential health issues. I was very concerned that there may well have been a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode! 

The Advice:

Since the decision to begin a search for biological medical information is up to the adoptee, I don’t believe that I have too much advice here for the adopters. However, all adoptive guardians ought to encourage adoptees to begin this search, and I think that it is in the best interests of all adoptees to take this initial step themselves. The advantages, more than likely, will outweigh any disadvantages.

I’m pretty much the typical man when it comes to visiting a doctor. I balk at the idea! Fortunately, as I have grown older, my outlook on such things has changed for the better. There doesn’t seem to be a perfect time to begin this search, but there is the best time. That would be as soon as humanly possible. The sooner you know the better.

- Andrew

The Liz Factor

The Story:

Shortly after learning of my adoption, I had a bit of an epiphany. I recalled myself as a youngster in my third-grade classroom during a session of “show and tell.” My presentation, though, was not the enlightening part. The story focused on Elizabeth, a fellow classmate. I remembered that she wore large-framed glasses just like mine. Nerd alert, right?!

Elizabeth stood in front of our class and began telling the story of her adoption. I honestly don’t recall a thing from her story, but I do remember the students’ reactions. Not her reaction, though. The rest of the class, including myself, ridiculed her continuously after that day. We simply considered her to be different from us, and she had unknowingly opened up Pandora’s box. This poor little girl just wanted to share something near and dear to her life. What she received in return was shameful, but not at all surprising.

The Emotions:

That story made me cringe. It still has that affect. I understand that children don’t have the experience necessary to always realize the consequences of their actions. However, I can’t really forgive my actions. I could not believe that I had stood in front of her, and tortured her because I thought she was so different. It’s baffling how wrong I had been. Would I have reacted the same way if I had known about my own adoption? Would I have stood up to those others who found it necessary to ridicule her? I’ll never know, but I will always remember.

The Advice:

Regarding this story, my advice is for the adopted. Do what you must to better understand your situation. I usually have pretty tough skin, and I often times find myself ignoring big issues if there aren’t any real solutions. It may not be wise to set aside your concerns regarding your adoption. The more action you take now will better prepare you for the time when you decide to begin your search.

- Andrew

Summer Nights

The Story:

It was fifteen years ago when I found out that I had been adopted. That day began like many other summer days in the suburbs outside of St. Louis. The sun was shining. The heat was on, and the humidity was annoyingly uncomfortable. The hours past, and the light of dusk crept in on the otherwise quite neighborhood.

Outside on the deck, my Dad was grilling burgers while my Mom stood inside finishing up the meals accompaniments. We all three sat down at the patio dining table, and we began our nightly ritual. At the end of this meal, like most, we sat around and spoke for a bit on topics that I cannot recall. After the conversation died down, I decided to clean my place, and remove myself from the table. Come to find out, my parents’ weren’t finished speaking with me, yet.

They asked me to sit back down. They had “something to tell me.” My Dad began to speak, and it was very obvious that the words were painfully difficult for him to get out. My Mom jumped in and informed me “what my father was trying to say was…” I had been adopted.

The news didn’t seem to have that much of an impact on me at that moment. I may have asked a question, or two; the answers escape me now. Afterward, I gathered the rest of my place settings, and walked inside to watch some t.v.

The Emotions:

Now, for those of you who have never had an experience like this, you might think that showing no real emotion after hearing such news is abnormal. Well, I don’t know the stats on this, but I can tell you that my initial reaction was probably typical. Even though I didn’t jump up and down while screaming, that fact did not mean that I hadn’t been tremendously impacted by the news. Those moments were life changing, and they will never leave my memory. That day, in fact, was the day on which I realized why I had always felt so lost within my family (my wonderful family by the way).

For many years prior, I had always felt disconnected from my family. I never could understand what it was, or even what it meant. Questioning the validity of it all seemed appropriate. Was I just a really weird kid? Did that mean that I didn’t love my family? “No” was the answer to both questions, but I didn’t realize it until that summer evening.

Finally, I had an answer! That was the moment at which I understood my place more clearly. The feeling I had was based on my biological nature. More than likely, a chemical process had been taking place. My genetic make-up was unable to detect a chemical connection between my family members. Hormones? Pheromones? Whatever was taking place was real, and its existence proved to me that families are connected in ways that many never even consider. Now, I’m certainly not a scientist, and I have no hard data to back up this claim. However, that biological disconnect is what I believe triggered my nagging feeling, and I won’t be changing my mind until some one can prove otherwise.

Even though I felt that I had finally made some measurable progress in understanding my place within my family, I still was not able to wrap my head around what it truly meant to have been adopted.

The Advice:

For those of you who are adopters, I commend you for having the strength and the compassion to extend your family to those who find themselves without. For all of you, the thought of eventually telling your child that he/she has been adopted is probably very emotional. How do you tell someone that you love that he/she has no biological connection to you? How do you tell your child that you’re not his/her real family? Will your child resent you? Will your child even understand?

I’m sure these questions, and more like them, will continue to pour into your heads until that day comes. My advice is this, tell your children, all of them, no matter what! Create an open dialogue between your entire family. 

The pain and confusion you feel now will never dissipate until you tell that story. No matter the reasons surrounding your child’s adoption, he/she deserves to know. You, as a parent, have the responsibility to protect your young, but denying them the knowledge of their true origins is not within your job description.

The outcome may not be very pleasant. You may very well create more pain and confusion; but pain can be treated, and confusion can be answered.

- Andrew