The next reunion, however, which flew off the screen at me from what felt like nowhere, was a daughter and her father. I wasn't clear on the story behind this reunion as I was gearing myself up for my emotional reaction, debating whether or not to press the off button, rather than listening to the background information. I think that she had never known her father and certainly had no knowledge of his lovely large family, his desperate need to meet her and that he lived in Canada. Their reunion brought for her that feeling of what it is to be held by a father, by what it is for him to look into her eyes and say 'she's mine'.

I am very open about who I am and where I come from....some may say to open. But I have only been like this for about 18 months or so when I realised that speaking out publicly of all the different life experiences I'd had, were useful to other people in a helpful way. I'd always kept my distress for the therapy room and close friends....probably the best place for it until I had 'dealt' with it! My status update regarding my response to the programme, as a daughter who has never met her father, was duly pasted and my Facebook stream brought all of it's wonderment by way of the usual support, shock, opening up of other people's stories and opportunities to learn.

So what happens when it goes wrong? I was conceived in 1969 in a Wigan Motel I believe and that is all I know. That is it. I know that there was a lot of shame about the pregnancy and I know that I was fostered for a couple of weeks after I was born. The rest is buried deeply into the passages of time, never to be truly remembered or known or wanted to be known. Except I want to know. I have always wanted to know. There is not going to be a reunion. I have just about come to terms with this.

Out of last night's discussions, the stories' of others, the media hyped video footage designed to bring out out as much emotion as possible regardless of the audience's ability to deal with it, I concluded that it is important to know where we come from however painful. It is our right actually. It is not the right of someone else to determine whether I should know of my heritage. Not knowing or knowing who we are, is indeed one of the things that define us whether in a way that we can use to destroy ourselves or in a way that we use to live as healthy emotionally stable human beings who live consciously in society. It defines how much 'stuff' we are left to deal with. It defines how the adults around us, ie. parents/family subsequently deal with it or don't deal with it!

However defining it is, though, it is not who we are. It is not necessarily who we are designed to be whether it is from a positive start in life or a negative one. I crawled into an AA room at the age of twenty (and I haven't had a drink since) an angry, destructive, hurt, lonely, young girl with grey and sallow skin. Yet the gratitude that I have for that experience is far greater than any value I can come up with. Because it was then that I began the process of rebuilding the mess along with the help of other recovering alcoholics, professional help, endless self help books and sheer bloody determination. That is who I am. Determined, strong, intent of enjoying and relishing every last drop of life that is on offer to me. I am a mother, teaching my children the joy of feeling unconditional love, of feeling acceptance, knowing that I am here for them whatever they do, whatever their mistakes, whatever their choices. That is who I am.