"you can't find peace until you have all the pieces"

This was a quote from "The Locater" on Oprah Winfrey. This is a person who helps locate biological family members. It resonated with me, as I am searching for that peace, a peace adopted children often crave. Does this mean an adopted child does not love their adopted family? Should the adopted family feel threatened? I can not answer for all adopted children..........for me, no, my family should not feel threatened. I love them and know I am loved.

Who am I?

My father's name is John Robert Wills. He was married to my mom (Cheryl Crabbs-maiden name) approximately in 1971-1974'ish. I was the first born child of this union. I have a brother born 2 years after me - John Robert Wills Jr. - we called him Johnny. I have vague memories of my father. I know he was a tall, slender man with brown hair. I can not even remember his eye color. I remember feeling loved with him. My grandfather used to tell me stories about how much my father loved me, how I was the apple of his eye and he cuddled with me. I tend to believe this due to the lingering nurturing memories I have of him.

My last memory of my father was shortly before we went into foster care. I had not seen him in several years, and he showed up at our house. I did not recognize him or believe him when he said he was my dad. I made him show proof of his name. I still remember him giving me his driver's license with his name on it before I believed it. I was 8 years-old and demanded proof of his identity. I was a brave and bold little girl! My older brother was so afraid of my father, he locked the door to the house to ensure my father could not come inside, thus I was locked outside with him. I did not care. I thought this man was going to rescue me. I remember feeling free and experiencing hope....it was a novel experience and I wanted to hold onto this emotion for as long as I could. My father told me he wanted my brother and me to live with him. I believe he had his wife with him, but I could not tell you if this is a true memory, as everything in my being was focused on him and freedom.

My father left to talk with my step-father. Whatever transpired between my step-father and my father severed my chance for freedom and I never saw my father again. He did not come to say good-bye. He left me and took the hope with him. I wonder if he cared or understood the magnitude of his loss. I would like to ask him. The final nail in the relationship occurred when my parents rights were officially severed. My father did not show up to court. He did not fight it. He simply gave his parental rights away.

Disposable child
I learned on that day I was not loved, not enough to save or treasure. I was disposable. I often wondered if people would even notice if we were gone. Could we disappear and nobody notice? Would people care? Would they be happy or relieved if we were gone? Were we a reminder of mistakes?

I was reminded every time I looked in the mirror of my mother. I was not identical to her, but resembled her very much in my hair, eye color and build. This has been very difficult to live with - because I look like her does this mean I am going to be crazy too? Does this mean I will go from man to man looking for that elusive happiness that will never arrive because the person is not happy with herself? Will I spend my life in and out of hospitals? Will I be a horrible mother?

Differences
I am taller than my mother, a gift from my very tall father. I am more emotionally intelligent than my parents. I am more resilient, as well. When my life gets tough, I don't quit, like both of them did. I am not a quitter.

Proof of existence
At the same time, I always felt a need to prove myself, to be worthy of my existence. "See, look at how many degrees I have. I am smart." "Look, I have been married 17 years. My mother couldn't stay married 5 years." "I love my children. My parents loved themselves."

And.........just like my mother always looking for happiness outside of herself I did not find happiness this way either. I could have helped thousands of children work through their pain and it would not extinguish my pain. I was the only person who could work through my childhood and it had to come from within. I had a very good therapist who guided me on this path and now I truly realize.....

I AM NOT MY MOTHER!

My family destroyed my ego, they crushed it and hurt a child in more ways than even I can describe, but I survived the pain. I re-built my ego. My goal now is to thrive and move forward, to find the peace I long for........

My father's name is John Robert Wills. He was in the United States Army in 1972 and was stationed at Fort Riley, KS. He moved back to his home state of either New Mexico or Arizona after he divorced. If anyone reading this knows anyone of this name please feel free to let him know a woman who could possible be his long-lost daughter would like to meet him. I would like to know my history - I would like to know what he looked like, what his family looked like. I would like to have all of the biological pieces.

My name is Angela Irene Wills - Bush - Watson. I am a beautiful person. I have three amazing siblings:

Lisa Jane Martin - 40 years old
Anthony Martin - 42 years old
John Robert Wills - 36 years old

these are their biological names, not adopted... I miss you and love you!