Review: YOU BELONG TO US by Molly McCaffrey


My much admired professor, mentor, and friend, Dr. Molly McCaffrey, launched her memoir, You Belong to Us, today. I preordered my copy and received it a few days ago and have been absolutely blown away by the emotional journey captured within its

Adopted at the age of 6 weeks, Molly grew up knowing she’d been adopted but loving the life she’d lived with her adoptive parents–her real parents.

In her late twenties, out of curiosity about who and where she came from, she hesitantly began the steps required to find her birth mother. Her memoir emotionally chronicles the fear, curiosity, confusion, guilt, and anger that guided her through finding and meeting her birth family.

Her experience was especially emotional because, not only did she find a birth mom, she also found out that, after putting her up for adoption, her birth mother and birth father reconciled, got married, and had four other children who were all Molly’s full-blooded siblings. Instead of finding one person, she found an entire family, most of whom never even knew she existed… some of whom would like to pretend she didn’t.

The book is a very emotional read that begs the question… How much does our biology affect who we become? And is it possible for one person to heal a thirty-year-old “wound” that the other person sees as a blessing?

I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in the human condition and both our abilities and inabilities to accept, adapt, and move on.

You Belong to Us can be purchased here or at Barnes and Noble.


The Official Story of My Demons and Me — The Long Version

Autobiography of a Dysfunctional Writer –The Extended Version

I’ve dealt with anxiety and depression for my entire life, I think. I spent my first fourteen years in a “perfect” family setting (perfect for me). We had cook-outs and parties for holidays. We had a nineteen-foot Christmas tree in our two-story living room, and when I was ten years old, my parents brought home my baby brother, Josh.

Family: The Early Years

I remember feeding him and changing diapers. He was my real-life baby doll. When he would whimper from his crib in the next room, I would run to see if he was okay. Of course, my parents thought it was so sweet. I loved him.

Several years later, we had moved into a bigger home, built a pool, and I started the middle-school/high-school climb. I began doing all the normal stuff that you have to hide from your parents—smoking, drinking, smoking pot, sneaking out.

My dad smoked pot my entire life. It was normal to me. I thought all adults did it. On the weekends, my parents had parties where eight or nine people would sit around getting high and playing cards or dice. All I knew was that I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody at school what my parents did because it was our business. I never told… until it became cool. Then I bragged. “Yeah, I swiped this bud from my dad’s stash. It’s some good shit too.” Continue reading