The Afterthoughts of Finding My Father: A Journey Through Hope, Distance, and Self-Discovery

In 2018, a chapter of my life opened that I never thought I’d get to read. After years of wondering, hoping, and imagining, I finally found out who my father was. The emotions that hit me were overwhelming—excitement, curiosity, and a sense of completion I hadn’t known I was missing.

I pictured him in so many ways. What kind of man was he? What type of life had he lived? My mind filled with images—some built from childhood questions, others shaped by simple hope. Deep down, I believed this discovery would unlock something in me, something I thought had been missing my whole life.

The First Meeting: Chasing Belonging

I remember the day I packed my bags and started the drive to Michigan. It was the farthest north I had ever traveled. Crossing state lines felt symbolic, like I was crossing emotional borders too. The small town where he and his siblings grew up was peaceful and charming, with tree-lined streets and a quiet that seemed to hold decades of family history.

At that point, I didn’t know much about him. But just being there—seeing the places he had walked, meeting people who knew him—felt like I was finally piecing together parts of my story. I let myself get caught up in the moment. I told myself I had found my place. I believed I had found my family.

When Reality Hits: The Distance Grows

For the first couple of years after that initial visit, I put in the work. I called. I visited. I kept showing up, trying to carve out a space for myself in this new chapter of my life. But with time, the cracks started to show.

As much as I wanted it to work, something always felt distant—unspoken but present. The connection I imagined, the bond I longed for, never really took root. Slowly, my energy began to drain. I was trying to fit myself into a space that didn’t quite fit me back.

Looking back brought more sadness than peace. The excitement I felt in the beginning faded into confusion and emotional exhaustion. Eventually, I started pulling away—first emotionally, then physically. I stopped reaching out. I stopped hoping for something that felt further and further out of reach.

Reflection and Growth: Choosing Peace Over Pain

Over the past year, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting—not just on this experience but on all my relationships. Family, friends, even moments of intimacy. I’ve asked myself hard questions: Am I holding on to people or connections that aren’t holding me back? Am I forcing relationships that don’t bring me peace?

I want to make it clear: none of the people involved are bad individuals. This isn’t about blame. It’s about understanding that not all relationships—family included—are meant to grow. Some are seasonal. Some are circumstantial. And some exist only as chapters in our life story.

Living with the Afterthoughts: A New Kind of Healing

What I never prepared for were the afterthoughts—the emotional hangover that comes after the high of discovery. I didn’t think about what would happen when reality set in. The truth is, there was no stable bond waiting for me. No fairytale ending. Just the complicated aftermath of my parents’ decisions and the emotional pieces I now have to carry.

I never imagined I’d be here, rebuilding my life with a new sense of identity—one that accepts the past but isn’t defined by it. The emotional highs and lows are still part of my journey. Some days, I feel empowered and full of direction. Other days, I feel lost and disconnected, wondering where I truly belong.

But I’ve learned that both feelings can exist. Healing isn’t a straight line. Growth isn’t always pretty. But with each step, I’m choosing peace. I’m choosing myself.

And if you’re reading this and have been through something similar—just know, you’re not alone.

Written by: Greg MD