Belonging has always been complicated for me. It started with my adoption in Israel—a primal wound that shaped my earliest experiences. Even in the womb, I was absorbing the stress and loss of being given up. That became my first belonging trauma, the foundation for a childhood where connection always felt out of reach.
Then came my parents’ divorce when I was just two. The family I barely knew disappeared. Immigration followed, bringing its own challenges. Was I Israeli? American? Both? Neither?
Those early traumas—adoption, divorce, immigration—left me belonging-less for decades. But understanding that story, naming those experiences, has been the first step in creating my own sense of belonging.
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