How Discovering My Roots Has Changed Me

Family Trip to Cyprus in the late 1970s.

Even though I struggled with history in school, I’ve always been drawn to the past. I think that fascination started when I was a little girl in the 1970s, on a family trip to Cyprus. I remember walking through the Tombs of the Kings near Paphos—ancient underground tombs carved from solid rock. There weren’t really any kings buried there, but I remember how the tour guide mentioned the size of the tomb, telling us if a child or an adult was buried within each location. I also recall wandering through the ruins of Roman villas and mosaics in the Kato Paphos Archaeological Park, stepping carefully over the remnants of theaters and early Christian sites. I was in third grade, but I remember feeling like I was walking through someone else’s life. I wondered who had lived there, what their lives had been like, and whether anyone remembered them or was alive today who was connected to them.

That was the beginning.

As I grew older, my curiosity shifted from ancient strangers to a much more personal mystery: my own family. I had always known that my adoptive father was not my biological father. It wasn’t a secret, but no one wanted to tell me who he was or why he wasn't in my life. Maybe things would have felt different if I had felt close to my adoptive father. Instead, I was left with questions no one wanted to answer, and a gnawing need to understand where I came from. I obsessed over every clue I could find. Secrets, I learned early on, hurt the people who carry them.

It would take decades before the pieces began to come together. After my husband was killed in action, I was adrift. One night in 2009, I saw an ad for Ancestry.com during an episode of "Who Do You Think You Are?" I signed up. At that point, I knew my biological father’s name, my paternal grandfather’s name, and even his address from the 1970s. Slowly, through digital shaking leaves, I began to uncover stories. My grandfather had already passed away, but I was getting to know him anyway. With each discovery, I felt like I was starting to understand who I was.

And once I started, I couldn’t stop.

I turned to my maternal side next. Each new name, each new story, made the world feel both smaller and more wondrous. I realized that I was connected to places, to historical moments I had barely paid attention to in school. I had always found classroom history dry and distant—just names, dates, and places. No one had told me that history was mine, too.

My DNA test confirmed some of what I’d always been told—German roots from my Grandpa Steinbrecher, a splash of Irish temper from my grandmother—but it also revealed connections to England and Scotland. I had grown up living all across America and in the Middle East at times, traveling the world, but I hadn’t known just how deeply I was rooted in so many of those places.

The biggest change I’ve felt is this: I no longer feel so isolated. I didn’t choose to be born an American. My ancestors made choices that led to me being here. Discovering them has given me a sense of belonging to something bigger than myself. I sometimes imagine a future where one of my descendants is born on another planet, and I am their connection to Earth. That sense of legacy, of groundedness, is something I wish I had felt growing up. It might have made everything feel less lonely.

Knowing where you come from shifts everything. It makes the world more intimate. It connects you to people, to places, to events you never thought had anything to do with you. I’ve met distant cousins. I’ve healed pieces of myself. I’ve stopped chasing ghosts and started building stories. Family history didn’t just give me names—it gave me roots.

And now, I want to pass that on. To my children. To my grandchildren. To whoever comes next. Because connection is what makes us human. And through our stories, we live on.

Have you ever explored your roots? What stories—hidden or half-remembered—might be waiting for you to uncover?

I'd love to hear your journey. What have you discovered that surprised you, healed you, or changed the way you see the world?