I was adopted. My true self-identity was an unsolvable mystery—a puzzle and a conundrum. Knowing my birth parents had abandoned me, without a roadmap or an astrolabe to guide me, stimulated a gloomy sense of deprivation based on hurtful feelings of desertion. My heart was hollow. I was hopelessly lost in the wilderness, a curious victim of genealogical bewilderment. I was immobilized by fear and anxieties, and frustrated by a melancholic sickness, knowing that for some unknown reason I had been purposefully jettisoned into space somewhere along life’s trajectory by my birth parents.
Throughout the lengthy process of discovery I imagined myself as both a master detective gradually acquiring the skills needed to master the elegant art of detection and a wilderness survival expert with an insatiable will to succeed. Finding my roots was a difficult process that stimulated me to investigate every clue available using both intuitive and deductive reasoning. There were many obstacles to overcome, but I never gave up hope, or lost sight of my goal. The heroine of this story is hardly a traditional detective, but genealogy, by its very nature, leads to detection, deduction, and conclusions that are not always what the genealogist had in mind. —Judith Land
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