Whose hands are these?

Trends sweep the nation like a cold front -- fidget spinners, ice bucket challenges, you name it. They all come and go, leaving little to no effect on most people. That is, until the trend of DNA testing.

The Call to Adventure

A couple of years ago, my mother-in-law bought us all DNA testing kits as an early Christmas gift. It was a harmless, fun idea. My wife has several adopted siblings from different countries, so the results were bound to be interesting. Well, a month after sitting in a circle and hacking loogies into tiny tubes, we got our results back.

Despite hearing all my life that I'm "very" German and a little Italian, turns out I'm 92% British and Irish. Huh. That's strange.

The Road of Trials

These DNA testing companies connect you with distant and foreign relatives who have spit into tubes as well. Fourth cousins, fifth cousins, siblings, grandparents, and so on. Based on how much DNA you share, they can somewhat accurately guess how you're related. Which brings me to the next surprising discovery:

Cousin Paul.

My closest relative on the website was a man named Paul, who was supposedly my first cousin. I have many first cousins, none of whom are named Paul, and certainly none that are twice my age. So I group texted my family.

Hey there's this guy named Paul Lastnamehere who's listed as my first cousin?? That can't be right. Anybody recognize that name?

Crickets.

....Anybody know a Paul???

My family's evasiveness was obviously suspicious. I started piecing together a theory. Perhaps my grandfather cheated on my grandma? Maybe there's a bastard son out there.

The Helper

I pulled my older brother into my cohort as I transformed into an unpaid private detective, collecting all the data I could find. There were some interesting discoveries, but ultimately dead ends.

Eventually, I arrived at a painfully possible notion -- maybe I'm the bastard son.

Asking my parents directly felt like a bad idea; they could lie or it would start a fight. So I endured an awkward Christmas visit as my brother and I shared suspicious glances at the dinner table.

The Big Ordeal

Finally, my brother took the same DNA test, and the results were conclusive.

Half brother.

That was a big, big pill to swallow. I was at work when he called me, and it felt like someone punched me in the gut and threw a heavy blanket over my head.

I sat on the information for three days, until finally, on MLK day, 2019, I called my mom. It took an hour of chit chat for me to work up the courage to tell her what I found out and ask her "Is that at all possible?"

".... Yes, it's true."

I'm glad it was over the phone. That way I could mute the microphone and let myself weep as she told me the story of an affair, an almost abortion, and a massive lie she kept from my dad until I graduated high school.

I'm the youngest of four. I'm the tallest, blondest, and broadest. My hands and feet are comically wide, especially compared to my family's narrow appendages. While there have been several times I suspected something wasn't quite right, I would always be reassured by the physical features I share with my uncle (my mom's brother).

That part makes sense now.

None of my siblings knew. My dad sat on the information for nine years. Like many bad things that happened in my family, the truth about me was swept under the rug. They both hoped it was dead.

All it took was a mysterious first cousin (who turned out to be a half uncle) for the truth to revive and grow legs.

The Transformation

Over the next few months, I found myself at the mercy of sporadic emotional storms. When your reality is shaken, things get weird. I would be watching a sitcom and inexplicably break down in tears. I'd stand in the shower and ask myself, "Whose hands are these?"

Any physical feature that didn't come from my mom's side, I could now say with certainty came from an absolute stranger. And one that I didn't think I cared for...

With some discomfort, I wondered how much my personality was like my biological father. Maybe there is some dormant, destructive trait of his that will unearth itself as I age.

My identity was sinking away from me, and I reached for it desperately -- like when you drop a cellphone in a lake.

The Road Back

Suddenly, after a year of ups and downs, who I was became exposed to my conscience. The glass was shattered.

I could see all of my life choices from 30,000 feet. I was standing on the roof of the tallest tower in the city of my past.

What I learned was just how much of my life is the result of fear.

I don't consider myself a fearful person. In fact, some might describe me as a risk taker. But, that's only true in specific circumstances.

Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of embarrassment, fear of guilt, fear of loss, fear of change, fear of letting others down, fear of learning that I'm not actually any good, all shape my decisions.

After that realization, the shackles of fear started to fall to the floor. I began to embrace my weirdness, exercising my newfound courage with micro decisions.

• I threw away things that I've horded for years -- things I felt I had to keep for some reason. Bags and bags of things.
• I took a hip hop dance class and did terribly.
• I grew my hair out despite the ridicule of my coworkers.
• I sat down and actually wrote the screenplay I've had bouncing around in my head.
• I texted old friends without any obligatory small talk.

Little by little, I've gotten better at recognizing fear-driven behavior. The decisions I've made that I regret the most were all the result of some form of fear.

Nothing so abstract should have that kind of power over you.

The Return

What I learned through all of this is that the most powerful thing you can do is know yourself. And it's not easy.

DNA tests are fun because you can find out that you're 1% Neanderthal (that explains my massive brow), but they certainly don't help identify who you are.

In fact, having my reality shattered, floating in the void, learning I've been lied to for so long, it helped me see everything from a different perspective.

Though many childhood memories are now tainted, I see clearly that my parents are truly, painfully human. And insecurities that I have, fears that I have, they are the same fears that drive humans to make dumb decisions like having affairs, or lying about someone's birthfather to preserve an already broken marriage.

Now, I'm resolved. And, at times, I feel I've reached a new level of maturity. Though, I remember fondly when I was more ingenuous. When I see strangers flirting, or someone's post about being pregnant, or buying a new house, or someone's sister graduating college, I feel like I see beyond it. I see the people themselves. I see the fear they've lived with. I see the insecurities they hide. I empathize. And I'm also grateful that not everyone sees what I see.

The most powerful thing you can do is know who you are, and why. That way you can focus on where you're going, not where you came from.