The Truth Is…

I used to lie a lot.

I wasn't some criminal mastermind. I was just a little girl trying to avoid getting whooped with the wooden paddle my dad brought home from work.

One day, I spilled cooking oil all over the kitchen floor while I was cleaning. I wiped it up as best I could, hoping no one would notice.

My mom walked into the kitchen.

"Did you spill this oil?"

"No."

She looked at me.

"Te'Jal..."

"No."

It was just the two of us in the house, but I committed to that lie like my life depended on it lol. I cried. I defended myself. Looking back, it's almost funny how convinced I was that if I just stuck to the story long enough, I'd somehow get away with it.

I guess my mom realized whoopings alone wouldn't change me, so she tried something different.

One day, she bought me a set of cassette tapes based on The Children’s Book of Virtues. I loved those tapes! lol

I had my own little stereo in my bedroom, and I'd spend hours listening to them. Every tape was filled with little fables. There was a crow dropping stones into a pitcher for water. A donkey learning a lesson after trying to take the easy way out. A tortoise who beat the hare simply because he kept going. Between each story were little songs that drilled the lesson into your head.

Tell the truth. Be kind. Take responsibility. Respect people. Have good character.

Those tapes worked. Can you believe it?

Over time, character stopped being something I practiced because I didn't want to get in trouble. It became who I was. By high school, I wasn't perfect but I genuinely believed honesty mattered. I believed integrity mattered. I believed that if something was broken, you sat down and talked about it. I believed difficult conversations were worth having because relationships were worth protecting. I really believed those lessons.

Then I was nineteen.

A guy from high school reached out to me. What started as a random conversation turned into the biggest truth I'd ever learn. He was my biological brother.

I was adopted.

I remember walking into my dad's room and telling him what I'd learned. He insinuated that it wasn't true. I remember calling my mom. She didn't answer.

Eventually, my dad told me the truth.

But honestly, finding out I was adopted wasn't the hardest part.

At first, I accepted it like a champ! I was a good team player. I listened more than I talked. I tried to imagine how impossible that decision must have been for my parents years earlier. I extended grace because that's what those character tapes taught me to do. That's what my parents taught me to do.

They checked in with me once after everything came out and then...we never really talked about it again.

Not really.

Over the years, there were other conversations I tried to have. I tried talking to my dad about the way I felt I was being treated after he transitioned into his new life.

I tried explaining why I didn't want certain relationships around some of the most important moments in my life. 

I tried telling my parents when something hurt me instead of pretending I was okay.

None of those conversations were easy. But that's what I thought character looked like.

The tapes taught me that if something was broken, you didn't ignore it! You find the courage and talk about it.

Funny thing is...those tapes never taught me what to do when I was the only one willing to have the conversation (womp).

I genuinely believed honesty would bring us closer. Instead, I learned something new. Sometimes people will talk about you before they'll talk to you.

I can't fully explain what that feels like unless you've lived it. Sometimes it felt like I was the problem just because I wanted to talk about the problem. It also feels like hearing pieces of yourself (usually the worst parts) echoed back through other people instead of hearing them directly from the people you love.

Adoption was just the event, ya’ll. The real heartbreak came later.

The real heartbreak was realizing I became exactly who I was raised to become. “Honest.” “Kind.” “Compassionate.”

Someone willing to have uncomfortable conversations because I believed relationships were worth fighting for. And somewhere along the way, those same qualities started creating distance instead of closeness.

For years, I thought this was just my story and then friends started telling me theirs. Different families. Different parents but that saaaame silence. That same expectation that the child would assume the role of the parent. I've realized there are a lot of us walking around carrying this grief.

People who were taught to tell the truth...until the truth became uncomfortable.

People who were taught to value integrity...until integrity required accountability (stay with me, now).

Side note: My fiancé made a post about his experience a few days ago…

For a long time, I thought something about me made how I was being treated, okay.

Maybe it was because I was adopted. Maybe I was easier to let go of. Maybe I expected too much because I should just be grateful.

Those thoughts become really loud when the people who are supposed to reassure you stay silent. But somewhere along the way, the community started answering questions my family didn't know how to answer. They didn't replace my parents, they just  reminded me about the values those character tapes taught me still exist.

They exist and sometimes they just show up in different people.

And maybe that's the lesson I was really supposed to learn all along. I’m sharing this because I hope it’s a lesson we can learn together.