Adoptee Search Update

I really do appreciate everyone that has shared my search post. I have attempted to visit each reblog, but I am sure I missed some.

I know many people reblogged my post that don’t normally reblog things on this site and for that I really do thank you.

An update – Still no word.

You weren’t expecting something different were you? I gave up a long time ago I think… but force myself to “try” again each year.

Thank you all for making me want to try again.



Final Post – My Adoption Story: Depression and the Devil

Man’s greatest triumphs can sometimes be found during his most difficult times of adversity.

This is my new saying when I reflect upon the “Dark Ages” of my life and my deepest days of depression. I am often not a praying man, which is odd considering my father is a priest and a doctor, and I don’t consider praying in times of need and praying to win the lottery as being a “praying man.”

I feel comfortable talking about my dark ages now, perhaps it is the mask of my pseudonym that gives me courage; but no, it is actually because I have moved on to greener pastures. My dark ages were a product of finding my birth mother at the age of 18. This came about in the most innocent of ways, in the form of a senior graduating gift from my adopted parents, my real parents in my eyes, a gift of adventure and excitement. It was a trip to Korea with a group of other adoptees from Holt International Adoption agency. I could never have dreamed prior to that trip, a trip I packed for with such excitement and enthusiasm, that it would be a trip that would usher in my darkest days. Granted, I had an acceptable childhood (no childhood is perfect), I had already struggled with demons of race and depression. I never considered that those demons would be small compared to the Devil I was about to encounter.

I really won’t get into the specifics of the trip unless someone asks or I am inspired to do so at a later date. Needless to say, since I have already provided the window to view it through, this trip was awful. I had been provided my adoption package by my adopted parents at an earlier time so I “thought” I was prepared for this trip. I “thought” there would be no surprises. I was wrong, depressingly wrong.

I found the information about my birth mother and my blood sister in Busan, South Korea, in a pathetic orphanage that I don’t even remember the name of. I have never liked hospitals or orphanages and I now knew why. No one, unless you are also adopted, can understand the pain that is brought when you are faced with the reality that you were not wanted. Add to this the pain that your mother decided one sibling was less trouble than you would be, and what you have is a maelstrom of emotions, regret, and anger. My storm could have killed me, it almost did.

When I returned I immediately went to college. A time that was supposed to be filled with excitement and growth, was instead filled with depression, anger, weed, and alcohol. I filled my time finding things to fill my “hole.” It did not help; it only delayed the sorrow and pain that I had to face eventually. When I dropped out of college after three and a half years the only welcoming I really wanted was a grave. Failure had become a part of me and it evidently had originated when I was left on that lonely street in Busan, South Korea in 1983.

I become a drunk. At 23 years old I was a first class alcoholic. I recently read Anthony Bourdain’s book “Medium Raw,” and part of my inspiration for writing this comes from him. The other part comes from my loving wife and my two wonderful children, all three of whom I continually feel that I do not deserve but I am forever thankful that I have. So thank you Anthony for the courage to speak or rather to write.

I remember, vaguely of course, stopping every day at Joe’s liquor store and buying a daily pint of the rawest whisky I could find, I believe it cost around $3 dollars a pint, and feeling like the drunks I had always despised I would begin to guzzle it on my short ride home. Before you judge, YES I know this was highly stupid of me and irresponsible, but who can ever say they were responsible while being depressed and drunk? If you know anyone that can make that claim I can in the same breath claim that bastard is a liar. Alcohol was my friend, my confidant, and his name didn’t matter whether it originated in Mexico, America, or hell even some African country. It didn’t matter as long as it felt good touching my lips.

It was late; I would say 3 am, when I saw him. He was not what I expected and I really can’t be sure if it was him or if he just gave me a glimpse of what I would see if I ever really met HIM. I was drunk; I think Braveheart was playing in the background. I was in the upstairs of my parent’s house, yes at age 23 I was living at home again another dagger to my heart, and I felt a presence at my door. In my childhood my father used to have the (then) annoying habit of standing behind us and watching our TV show with us. I never thought about it then, but looking back, he just wanted to be with us even if we did not particularly, at age 15, want him there. This presence was not a comforting one; I felt the hair on my arms stand. I saw a man, it was a man, but he was a shadow of a man at the same time. He looked at me and something awakened in me, it was fear. I had never been so afraid in my life. Keeping in mind that alcohol and weed are the nectar of the gods and that with those coursing through my veins I had thought myself fearless. I was mistaken. With one look the Devil showed me my humanity and all I could think was that I desperately wanted to live. I cried and shut my eyes and when I opened them he was gone. I still to this day do not know if I was dreaming, I really doubt it.

Fear can drive a man crazy, but it can also drive a man to life. I look back on that day and I realize that fear had kicked my ass back into gear. Today I am content. People ask me if I am “happy” all the time, I don’t think like that anymore. I look upon my life with my wife and my daughters and I realize… sometimes being content is enough.


If you want to read the rest of my adoption articles please visit

Blogging – People Amaze Me

Last week I shared a personal post with information about my adoption and my lifelong search for my birth sister. I received an amazing amount of responses from people and I am deeply grateful for that.

I also received some backlash from my post. Imagine that huh? The amusing part is my post wasn’t offensive, and yet people will find reasons to be offended right?

“Why did so many people share that post.”

“This post reads like a scam. There are more important things to care about.”

“You should give up. You aren’t ever going to find her.”

“Why is he posting this on a blog? If he were serious about finding her he would take an Ad out in a Korean paper. Scam.”

Those are just a few of the emails, responses, and comments I got from the post and the shares that were done by all of you. I won’t allow a few negative comments to color my view of the blogosphere, but something should be said for how easily people judge and condemn things they have no clue about. That is your right bloggers and if anyone appreciates freedom of speech online it is me. Telling an adoptee they shouldn’t care about a relative they have never met is pretty harsh though. And people say I am mean.

-Opinionated Man



My Mother’s Blog – Her Article on my Search

My mother wrote this awhile ago and it was published as an essay. If you wish to read her “take” on my adoption search and what I went through you can through the blogspot link below. This is my mom’s old blog site and her new blog is at She is not a social media marketer, but is a writer and is working on a novel right now. If you visit please be polite.





Additional Adoption Records

I have had some generous people ask for additional info so they can help me search. Below is the only photo I have of my sister when she was processed into the orphanage with me.

I also have a copy of the guest log which my birth mother signed when she got my sister. It has her old and possibly current address. She may very well still live there. It isn’t honestly an issue of “finding them,” but rather the huge IF of them connecting or not.

The correct spelling of my sister’s name is Ahn Jung Hee and my birth mother’s name is Kim Ie Soo. Do not send me any emails warning about sharing the info I am. It is my decision to do so and I’ve thought this over millions of times.

I will send info directly to those that asked for it. I have a few pieces I will withhold to verify if someone actually ever comes forward and claims to be my relative. Thank you again for all the shares and help.



Ahn Soo Jin