Victim or Survivor: The Choice That Shapes Us
From loss and grief to a life that matters: one woman's journey from victim to survivor.
Every life has a beginning we didn't choose.
Mine began with being given up for adoption.
For many years, there was a part of my story I simply didn't know. I was raised by a family who loved me, parents who became my anchor through every high and every low. Whatever life brought, we stuck it out together.
Still, I wondered.
When I finally found my birth family, it felt like a blessing I had been waiting for my whole life. I had sisters. I had a mother I could finally look in the eye.
But finding them also showed me everything I had missed.
I never grew up alongside my sisters. I never shared the ordinary moments, the late-night talks, the secrets, or the everyday closeness that sisters take for granted.
And just six months after I met my birth mother, she was gone.
Her death left a gaping hole, along with all the what-ifs that come with it. She never got to know her granddaughters. We never got to be the mother-daughter duo I had imagined for so long.
But I loved her.
I loved that she was honest with me, even when the truth was hard to hear. That honesty became part of who I am.
The losses didn't stop there.
In 2013, I lost my birth father, who had become my best friend. In 2017, I lost my adoptive father. And this past June, I lost my adoptive mother under circumstances that are now the subject of a pending lawsuit.
Today, I consider myself an orphan.
Grief like that can change a person. It can harden you. It can make you bitter. It can convince you that life has simply been unfair.
And sometimes, it has been.
But I have learned that in every hardship, we are given a choice.
We can be a victim.
Or we can be a survivor.
Being a survivor doesn't mean the pain disappears. It doesn't mean pretending the losses didn't happen or that the what-ifs don't still visit late at night. It means refusing to let the hardest chapters write the ending of our story.
What if our losses could teach us to love more deeply?
What if our pain could give us a purpose?
What if the hardest moments of our lives became the very thing that helps someone else?
For me, that is exactly what happened.
My losses deepened my love for my family: my husband of 37 years, my four daughters, my grandchildren, and my best friend's little boy, who calls me Gigi. They strengthened my faith, which has carried me through every season. And losing my mother set me on a new path toward elder law so that other families have someone in their corner fighting for the people they love.
We cannot choose every chapter of our story.
We cannot undo what has been lost.
But we can choose what we do next.
So hold your family close. Say "I love you" while you still can. Forgive quickly. Live honestly.
And whatever life hands you, rise above it.
Because surviving is not the end of the story.
Making your life count is.
