Rekindled Flames | ONC 2024

Chapter 3: Fears

Josie

I stood paralyzed by fear, shame, and confusion. The insults grew louder with the additional students that were joining in as they filed out of the school. Hurtful names and slang that I had heard all my life from my caregivers were now being hurled at me. It had only ever been a threat from them. Today, the entire school knew just who they were screaming it at.

It was quickly occurring to me that I was living my worst nightmare — the one that actually plagued my thoughts every waking and sleeping moment of my life. Someone had done this to me, and perhaps they didn’t know just how awful it would be in my shoes, but the only complete conscious thought that I could recognize over their noise was that I was going to make that someone suffer just as badly as they made me. 

The question I needed the answer to was, who did this to me? Why had I been outed? Who even knew or had an inclining about my sexuality which I had kept hidden deep down for years? 

My girlfriend knew, of course, but I scrambled to find a different suspect. I wouldn’t allow the evidence to point toward her. Unfortunately, though, that was how under wraps I had kept that part of myself. No one but Lindsay knew.

- - - - -

9 months before Barcelona
For thirty-three years, I had kept a part of my history hidden — even from myself, especially from myself. I always thought it was a bad idea to go searching, but I couldn’t justify why I felt that way. There was a sour taste in my mouth whenever the idea did arise and that kept me from paying it any more mind than a couple minutes to dwell on it in the stillness of the nights.

My childhood was partially to blame. I had been given up at two months and adopted at a year old by a couple who felt more like evil step-parents than adoptive parents — at least, based on observation of other families, that was the conclusion I came to. Cynthia was hot and cold, never the same for too long. She was unpredictable, controlling, and uncomfortable to be around. She made my skin crawl most of the time. I still hadn’t told my therapist about that. George, on the other hand, seemed like the perfect guy on paper. He was successful, good at his job, and a people-person until he got home. After the hours of five or six in the afternoon, he was arrogant and selfish. He never so much as bat an eye at me.

That was Cynthia’s job, but I tried not to think of it that way now. Instead, I told myself I was on my own from the time that I was a young child. So, due to the people that had raised me — my caregivers, at best — I had ignored that deep desire to go looking for the people who were supposed to raise me.

At thirty-one, after a series of unfortunate events that had cost me friendships, relationships and professional work, I had gotten myself a therapist. I had never been so vulnerable with another person before. I cried more tears in her warm and cozy office than I had possibly cried in my entire three decades of being alive. She guided me toward seeing what I couldn’t, what I had only felt in my gut but never consciously considered. With her, I had made the careful decision to look for my biological parents.

I always thought this would be a bad idea and I still feared that to be true as I searched extensively for them, but I was done letting fear determine my decisions. Melissa — my therapist — helped me to see that and it was officially the last piece to the puzzle. I finally understood my drastic behavior. I still blamed myself for the stupid things I had done, but I thought about it differently now. No, reacting out of fear didn’t justify any of it, but it provided a ‘why’ and gave me something to think about. So, I thought about my fear around finding my biological parents as I searched and I decided to push it aside.