Learning to be a little braver

I have a story to tell.  It's the story of finding my biological father and the 16 year quest to encourage him to tell his family about me.

I have been reluctant to tell my story because regardless of what I tell myself, I am ashamed of the story.  I'm embarrassed that I don't come from a quote-unquote "Good Family".  I'm sorry for my parents that I was conceived.  I'm sad that my birth announcement, shared months after my 35th birthday, was a regretful confession of a fallen man. I feel bad for my mother for how lonely it all must have been on the day I was born. And I'm angry for being tasked with the shame of my parents extra martial affair.

I am telling my story because all of othe feelings above are wrong.  And it's time I embraced my roots and gave permission for others unlucky enough like me to be "illegitimate" persons  to stand and say, I matter and I am not ashamed for being born.

My story is worth telling because it is about love, mistakes, acceptance and forgiveness.  I'm going to to do my best and be honest with you about my mistakes and my shortcomings and I am going to do my best to tell you about the ways I was received and rejected by my members of my paternal family and do my best to stay true to loving principles at the same time.

My paternal half brother once said to me, "You need to understand how difficult it is to see your face, the living representation of a lie."

At the time those words were spoken, I was too stunned and hurt to even know what to say. I've reflected a lot about those words and my very being.  What I have come to realize is that my face isn't the representation of a lie at all, but rather a representation of a truth.  Cogito Ergo sum.