Adopted.

For a long time, that word meant something else to me.

Unwanted. Unloved. Rejected. Not important. Not good enough.

I carried those words with me. Sometimes I heard them, sometimes they were implied, and sometimes they were just how I felt.

In my late thirties, I became a foster parent. I hoped that by giving a child the home I always wanted, I could heal some of my old wounds. I did not fully understand it then. I just knew I felt called to foster.

I learned that unhealed pain does not stay hidden. It finds its way into every part of life.

It showed up in me and in the children I cared for. It touched my marriage, my health, and how I lived each day.

Eventually, I realized something that changed everything.

If I did not heal, I could not help my children heal.

So I started the real work. I was no longer just surviving. I was healing.

Now I speak and write so others do not have to carry the same lies I once did.

Unwanted. Unloved. Rejected. Not good enough.

Those words were never true.

Now I am:

Wanted. Loved. Accepted. Enough.

I share about healing, identity, foster care, adoption, and the quiet places where truth begins.