There’s something almost hypnotic about the way ripples expand in water when its stillness is disturbed by even the smallest movement, the tiniest pebble, isn’t there?

We spend our lives being told not to make waves, cause chaos. We’re told to hold steady, keep our heads down, and maintain the peace, whether it be in the family, at school, or in the workforce. And while this works for some longer than for others, there’s something to be said for shaking things up… for stepping into one’s power in ways previously unimaginable. Sometimes the catalysts are external, and sometimes they’ve been inside us all along.

This is the story of my NPE experience.

In 2018 Brené Brown wrote a piece titled The Midlife Unraveling that I’ll quote here a few times because I’ve referred to it at least a hundred times over the past five years. It’s become a touchstone for me as I’ve entered midlife, journeyed through my NPE experience, and survived what I’ve come to realize was my very own dark night of the soul.

“In my late thirties, my intuition had tried to warn me about the possibility of a midlife struggle. I experienced internal rumblings about the meaning and purpose of my life. I was incredibly busy proving myself in all of my different roles (mother, professor, researcher, writer, friend, sister, daughter, wife), so much so that it was difficult for any emotion other than fear to grab my attention. However, I do remember flashes of wondering if I’d always be too afraid to let myself be truly seen and known.” ~Brené Brown

I’ve thought about starting this story at many different points on my personal timeline, but all in all, I think it’s best to start in 1994 when the first blow hit. The force came from a place of love, though the ripples that would expand for decades enveloped me in fear and secrecy.

See, shortly after my 18th Birthday, my Dad sat me down to calmly tell me that he was not my biological father, that the “timing just wasn’t right” but he chose to stay anyway.

When I asked my Mom about it, she vehemently denied the accusation. I’ll spare you the expletives she peppered into her answer, but if you know anything about passionate New Yorkers, you might have an idea about how loud she got.

I was left devastated and confused.

There were a few more very short conversations over the next couple of years with my Dad and a single cryptic clue left to me by my maternal Grandma when she passed in 1997, but I never got any definitive answers.

Honestly, I never really asked for any, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

I raised my daughter, worked, put myself through school, lost my too-young-to-die-yet mom, fell in love, became a mom again, and changed careers a couple of times.

Time simply marched on as months became years and years became decades.

Life was good, so very good, even when it was hard.

“Midlife is when the universe gently places her hands upon your shoulders, pulls you close, and whispers in your ear:

I’m not screwing around.” ~Brené Brown

2019 found me struggling with a mystery auto-immune disease, unhappy in my job, and faced with the (quite loud) rumblings of midlife that had begun tugging at the tapestry of my being.

I was being called on to show up for myself in ways previously unimagined.

In May of that year, after much discussion with my wife and as a step towards possible answers, I spit in an AncestryDNA tube and sent it away.

Remarkably, like many recent testees, I didn’t know much about the science behind it all at the time, I didn’t even know what a centimorgan was. I trusted the science of it all would provide some answers for me and waited patiently for my results.

So, when I got the “your results are in” email, I simply hoped that my Dad’s worries would be proven wrong, that the science would set everything straight.

Lying in bed that night, I popped open the AncestryDNA app and immediately saw that I had two close matches.

One at 1,922 cM, one at 1,491 cM.

Remember what I said about centimorgans a minute ago? Yeah…well…I was about to get a crash course in genetics.

It turned out my Dad was right about the timing all along…

I was now having what I would later understand to be called my very own NPE experience.

And now I knew without a doubt, that the name mentioned in my Grandma’s cryptic clue, was in fact my  biological father’s name…

And as I clicked in and out of stranger’s trees, I discovered he’d passed away in 1983, just a few days before my 7th Birthday.

Knowledge of his death, remarkably, felt like a relief. This man, this stranger-turned-biological father, would provide no further complications with or for my true Dad, the man who chose the title by showing up for me, offering me his whole heart and the best life he could.

But the ripples of a new Universe were unfolding around me in rapid-fire motion.

It’s at about this time that everything went blurry and the world fell a little sideways.

It’s also when the messages started pinging.

Those centimorgans apparently meant that I had not one, but two half-sisters (in different states with different mothers)…

One was immediately communicative, having been searching for her own answers for years…

One needed some space and time to process her own new reality, a reality she’d never before imagined.

It was truly like tossing a pebble into a tiny pond and watching the ripples uncover a previously unimaginable Universe.

I was absolutely terrified, utterly heartbroken, incredibly angry, and (are you ready for it?)...

A little excited…

Isn’t it wild how multiple, opposing feelings can be true at the same time?

Because now the truth, the TRUTH, no matter how painful, was laid bare before me in black and white.

And so in between mom-ing and wife-ing, working and farming, there were now countless text messages, phone calls, and emails flying in every direction.

I cried a lot, laughed a little, and didn’t talk to anyone outside of my wife and my best friend about it all for a very long time…

I lied to those closest to me by omission.

See, I’d internalized all of the chaos, made some wild assumptions, and began to consider myself a secret, instead of my origin story (which was definitely not my responsibility).

Trauma is wild, no?

Silly me.

“Time is growing short. There are unexplored adventures ahead of you. You can’t live the rest of your life worried about what other people think. You were born worthy of love and belonging. Courage and daring are coursing through your veins.” ~Brené Brown

I began to spend all my free time trying to untangle the chaos I felt in my head and my heart… a low vibration that distracted me from nearly everything.

I filled in a new Research Tree, separate from my original tree, with information gleaned from Ancestry hints and my own research, unsure of how to properly move forward now that the family of my heart and the family of my DNA were tangled in my spirit and every branch of my tree seemed much gnarlier than they had been pre-spit…

And I Googled the names of strangers-turned-kin and found an aunt listed in the Obituary of my paternal Grandfather…

Which led to the Facebook discovery of yet another half-sibling, a brother this time, in yet another state.

And the world tilted again and again with each new discovery, each message and phone call and email…

And yet I continued to do my damnedest to simply carry on like everything was fine, to contain the chaos within myself, to compartmentalize and pretend like my entire world had not just tilted and completely flipped upside down.

“It’s human nature and brain biology to do whatever it takes to resolve cognitive dissonance—lie, cheat, rationalize, justify, ignore. For most of us, this is where our expertise in managing perception bites us on the ass. We are torn between desperately wanting everyone to see our struggle so that we can stop pretending and desperately doing whatever it takes to make sure no one ever sees anything except what we’ve edited and approved for posting.” ~Brené Brown

I most definitely had some work to do.

And so, amid a global pandemic, when everything (not just the core of my being) felt like it was uncertain and most definitely falling apart, I got to work at putting the pieces of myself back together again.

Slowly, steadily.

I had the horribly overdue and deeply challenging conversations with my Dad (who was ever-supportive of whatever I might need), my little brother (who apparently had been told by my mom before she passed), and my daughter (this was the hardest…how does one tell their child that they’re not biologically related to their favorite person?)…

I re-connected with my Mom’s big brother, her last surviving sibling, who matched my shaking voice with gentle (and thoroughly enlightening) truth-telling.

I reached out to more new-to-me kin and worked to find the puzzle pieces that would help close the gaps that existed between generations and traumas, fond memories and brutal realities.

I began slowly building relationships with new-to-me siblings, cousins, aunts, and extended kin…

Which, I have to say, is a remarkably wild experience to undertake as an adult.

Luckily, in the middle of all this, I also found an excellent therapist with extensive NPE experience.

Through it all I’ve largely been met with open arms and curiosity.

I’ve also been generously gifted photos, letters, memoir notes, and journal entries…

And I’ve confronted valid questions and hard truths.

The ripples from that single pebble are still expanding as I continue to unfold the essence of my being through a brand-new lens and build bridges between the missing pieces of myself…

As I find deep compassion and forgiveness for my mom, who loved me deeply, knowing now that it must have been incredibly painful for her as she did her best to protect me from the pain of her secret…

As I find immense gratitude for my Dad, the man who stayed when he knew he didn’t have to and who was strong enough to tell me the truth when no one else would…

Ripples upon ripples upon ripples.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~ Maya Angelou

I am now four years post test and I have learned and healed so much…

While fully acknowledging that I still have work to do.

There are still some loose threads to weave back into the tapestry of my being as I continue to work through the black and white details of it all while also reflecting on the wonder of Nature vs. Nurture…

As my newfound knowledge expands within and around me…

As I learn about and work to embody half of my genetic structure.

I still have moments of sadness and feelings of loss around my NPE experience, but the anger has left me, thank goodness.

And I’m now even able to chuckle at the tip of my nose, right there in the middle of my face…

The tip that didn’t really make sense before knowing that it matches almost perfectly with so many strangers-turned-family.

Genetics are wild.

So you’re here? Straight from a moment still ajar?

The net had one eyehole, and you got through it?

There’s no end to my wonder, my silence.

Listen

how fast your heart beats in me.

~Wislawa Szymborska

 Onward,

Melis

P.S.

Thinking about taking a DNA test? Please check out this post first <3