Identity Rupture

How many people do you know who were abducted as a child? I never met any. I have always felt isolated and unique — not in a good way — in my experiences. In a low moment several years back,  when my husband was away for work, or something, I started looking on the internet for information about parental abduction, and I was quickly directed to Take Root‘s site. It is a group that offers support and encouragement to former missing children who are now adults. There’s no other group like it that I know of; every member was abducted as a child. I read and watched testimonies of people that absolutely floored me. Although I was staring at the computer screen, looking at strangers in a video, the words coming out of their mouths told my story. It completely wrecked me.

I had never encountered ANYONE with my story. I had always felt completely alone and, despite others’ good intentions, completely misunderstood.

Total relief and validation filled my spirit as tears poured down my face. I wasn’t alone. Other people knew what it was like to be taken from family. To be taught to lie to teachers and, well, to everybody. To be given a new name and a new birthday. To be scared of the police. To be on the move all the time. That floored me.

Before I continue with more of my experiences related to being “missing,” I would like to share this amazing post by the director of Take Root. Please read it, and know that you are reading my story:

Click here → Identity Rupture

Someone is Turning One!

This year went by so fast! I’ve learned and grown so much, and my life is so different than it was a year ago! Tomorrow is my blog’s birthday, and I’m sure she’s awfully excited about it. 😉

Last May, I coincided the launch of this site with the upcoming observance of National Missing Children’s Day, and I told some of my story in increments. You see, I was a missing child. I was on Unsolved Mysteries. I was on bulletin boards at grocery stores. That was me for eight years — eight very formative years of my childhood. From the age of four until I was twelve, I was “missing.”

Because this blog is about me, I felt like that was a good place to start. My identity is forever imprinted by my experiences — as is yours by your own. Since that series, I haven’t written much on here about this aspect of my life, and there are a few reasons for that. The most practical reason is that, although my childhood experiences profoundly impacted me, I don’t think about them every day. I try to learn from the past, but not dwell in it. Another reason is that it’s hard to write about. Sometimes emotionally difficult, but it’s also just difficult to compose a blog post that expresses what I want to say to my satisfaction. I have several drafts about my experiences related to being “missing” that have been in draft status for months and months, and may always be that way. A third reason is that I want my words to be helpful to others and glorifying to God. Not everything I think and feel is either of those things, so much doesn’t get published.

Still, I have felt that I have more to say. National Missing Children’s Day is upon us again (May 25), and it has me thinking of what to share next. This article in particular has given me some direction, and so I will be sharing more this week. Stay tuned!

(In the meantime, you can catch my childhood story here.)