In order to find something, you must first understand what you are looking for. And I don't think I understood what I was looking  for until I actually began knocking on doors. Doors behind which might reveal my biological mother.Our identity is not something permanent. There are components of our identity that are constantly changing. And there are also other components that don't change that much. Our biological identity, for example, is one of the parts that doesn't change that much. That is, unless there are significant treatments or interventions done on the body, it is most likely that we will somehow resemble our biological relatives. And that we inherit our genetics from our ancestors.

If we simplify the question: Did you find your biological origin? Then the answer is also simple. It's either a yes or a no.

But every time I get this question, the answer is not at all simple, because I hear a whole different  question in my head. What I hear is: “Now that you better understand who you are and what happened the moment you were born, do you understand why you were abandoned?

That is why it is difficult to find a quick answer to this question, because both the question and the answer are really complex. Now, if I would find someone who is biologically related to me, well, that would be wonderful. Because it's something I've never had and really wish I could find. But with that said, that is a much simpler answer.

As for the search for my biological identity, it was not clear to me what I was really looking for. I mean, I had a feeling, but I didn't really understand. Thanks to the conversations with a person named Mercedes Yañez, I was able to connect a little bit with what was happening inside me. Understanding the big question was the real journey. What am I looking to heal? What part of me am I missing? And why is it so important?If we assume that my search began the day I suspected that I was the daughter of the disappeared during the dictatorship, then I can say that what I was looking for all along was to accept what happened. And how it happened. And It’s it’s hard to reconstruct the truth when you don't have it. The expectations, the dreams and fantasies that this emptiness feeds from are very powerful. As if my feet can never touch the ground, because there is a bit of truth that I don’t understand. It wasn't so much figuring out who I am, because at my age I already am who I am, instead it was about figuring out why I am.So knocking at the doors of women where one of them could actually be my biological mother gave a  face to a fantasy. Although none of them turned out to be my biological mother, they were all my mothers in a way. And in their stories I could see and understand something that without their bravery I would have never understood or found: context. These mothers had never forgotten their daughters. Whatever the reason for the pregnancy, the girl that was born was not just a mistake that had to be corrected by handing it over to other people. That girl always remained in the memory of these mothers. It never left them. The answer I was looking for was largely answered. "How could you let me go? How could you hand me over to strangers who God knows what they would do to me? Was I worth so little? Was it all worth so little to you?But it wasn't like that at all, she didn't just let me go. There were no other options. And The the family that adopted me was not chosen. They were just there, at the right place and the right time. Nothing more. It wasn't personal. I didn't cause it, nor controlled it. Everything just happened that way. Life is a lottery and you get what you get. It's not fair, there are no rules. Or if there are, they are very difficult to understand and it is beyond me to do so. So my answer is, yes, I found a lot. And I understood at least through my journey and experience that mothers do not forget their children. Never. (Ever)And none of this was personal. It has nothing to do with me.But yes, it did happen to me.