Subtitle: Do I Matter? An Adoptee’s Perspective through Her Relationships

The morning after my discovery, I searched the house looking for familiar surroundings. I noticed several Arabesque prints, and tall East African ebony statues. They’d constantly reminded us where we had been, who we were, and who I was. But who was I?

My self-worth plummeted overnight. One day I belonged to this family. The next day I found myself in a stupor playing ring around the rosy with, “Who am I”? I never found my answer. I didn’t know who I’d become, let alone how I’d heal. After learning that Dad adopted me, I disliked the “A” word with a vengeance. I never wanted to hear it spoken. I hated repeating those three words, “I was adopted”. How would I ever forgive my parents?

I dropped into the matching couch opposite Dennis, who was reading a book. He looked so calm and peaceful, unaware of my inner turmoil. Although, I’d learned that he was only my half brother, nothing ever changed between us. My love for Dennis always remained the same. Why hadn’t I noticed any clues before, which would have given my adoption away? Whenever I heard others mention that their kids looked just like their father, I felt scornful. Well into adulthood, I’d responded, “That’s not possible; my father adopted me.” I was livid. I filled out many medical forms fully aware that I would never know my history. While I looked a lot like my mom, my heart burned with desire to know what my biological father looked like. Just one picture would have been enough to quell my curiosity. One picture could have saved years of heartache. Recognizing my resemblance to Dennis helped me heal. However, I did notice that he had shorter fingers and a round hand unlike my long fingers and narrow hand. I gazed around my house, hoping to feel the unconditional love that my home represented to me during my seven years. But I only felt abandoned.

On the heels of my discovery, my family embarked on a five-thousand mile drive across the Arabian Desert. We traveled through eleven countries and visited twenty-three cities. I drank daily from this powerful elixir; my love potion to cure the desert’s burning blaze while striving to overcome the shock of betrayal by those I’d trusted the most. All I ever wished for was to be Daddy’s girl again. And to be at peace and happy like that young, innocent girl who grew up on the American compound with sun, sand and the Red Sea at her fingertips.

My book guides you along an adoptee’s journey and nurtures love in order to help you overcome feelings of anger and betrayal.  carina-book-imageIn gratitude for having you here, you can sign up for my guide book,  3 Most Important Truths When Talking About Adoption. I encourage you to share it with others as well. >>Sign up here<<

Praise for

                                        3 Most Important Truths When Talking About Adoption 

“Carina! Thank you for sharing! I think what is most appealing about you and (for me) comes through in your writing is that you really, truly, speak from the heart. Especially from my perspective– being adopted, struggling with my own truths about my family and biological father, I know I can relate to much of your story. But even outside of that– reading your writing feels like a conversation, like I’ve known you for years– which is something I find to be one of the most important aspects of a writer. People want to feel connected and you have that grace that pulls your reader in and makes it intimate and comforting to read your story.”~ Nickcole W.

Burns-JewelryBox CVR

Praise for

The Syrian Jewelry Box: A Daughter’s Journey for Truth

“Carina Burns has looked within herself, faced her demons, and developed the courage to share her journey of love, perceived betrayal, angst, and regenerative love. I first knew Carina before she learned of her adoption. She was a typical carefree teenager enjoying the ‘good life’ of a third-culture expatriate kid. Only recently have I reconnected with her. She has quite a story, a gift she shares with passion. Carina Burns is truly ‘becoming’ in every way imaginable.”~ Richard Maack, junior high school principal, Saudi Arabia

 

 

Carina’s memoir, The Syrian Jewelry Boxis a beautifully expressed story from an adopted child written in a manner which will help bring contentment and comfort to all adopted readers.”~ Anthony J. Zamarchi, Sr., Raytheon Middle East Systems

For future publication and purchasing information, please visit Carina’s website.  >>here<<

Original Syrian Jewelry Box

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Dad in home on Raytheon Compound in front of East African ebony statues around 1970.

Dad in home on Raytheon Compound in front of East African ebony statues around 1970.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dennis, (10) in home on Raytheon Compound around 1972.

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Summer of 1975—The Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem,Israel; second visited country during five-thousand mile drive.

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