“The Letter That Shattered My World”

I was born in 1981, in a small town called Cianjur in West Java. But my childhood wasn’t spent there. I grew up mostly in Jakarta, and from 1990 onward, in Bekasi, West Java. For most of my early life, everything seemed… normal. I lived what looked like an ordinary childhood, filled with routines and laughter — until one ordinary day changed everything.

I was around 11 or 12 years old when I stumbled upon a letter hidden in my parents drawer. A simple letter — but it cracked the foundation of my identity.

It was my adoption letter.

My heart stopped as I read it. It described a baby — born on my birthday — to a woman named Mrs. NI. The letter said she had handed me over to my adoptive father, Mr. MY. I learned that my biological mother was only 20 at the time, and my adoptive father was 30. The words that broke me most were the ones that said she had no rights to ever contact me again — not to know me, not to take me back, not even to reach out.

At the bottom were the signatures — and the fingerprint of my biological mother. That image is forever etched in my memory. Her fingerprint was the last and only trace of her I had.

I was devastated.

Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. But it was real — and it hit me like lightning. I kept that truth hidden deep inside me for the next six years. I didn’t tell a soul. I let it burn quietly in my heart.

During those years, I struggled silently. I felt abandoned, rejected, angry, and betrayed. I blamed the world. I withdrew from my adoptive parents, even though they had always loved me deeply. I felt a wall rise between us — a silent, invisible distance that neither of us could explain.

Then, one day, a relative from my adoptive father’s side let something slip. She told me that my biological father was a Chinese-descended prosecutor, a smart man. She said that my biological mother was his second wife, and that I wasn’t the only child given up — children from his first marriage were also adopted out.

I didn’t know what to do with this information. I was already overwhelmed by the weight of truth, and now it grew heavier.

That discovery didn’t just stay in my mind — it rooted itself in my subconscious. It shaped how I saw myself. It altered the way I trusted others. It planted questions that would follow me for years:

Who am I?
Why was I given away?
Was I ever wanted?

This was the beginning of my silent war — the war between who I thought I was, and who I was now forced to accept I had been all along.

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This story is a part of my personal journey. Please do not copy or reproduce any part of it without permission. Sharing is welcome with proper credit and a link to this blog.