Hi, I’m Jean Tillery, and in this episode of Epic Stories, I invite you to sit with me in the discomfort, hope, and beauty of an unfinished story—my story. This week, as Mother’s Day just passed, I share what it means to carry an experience that offers no perfect closure, a story that has shaped me in ways I’m still discovering.
Last year, I told the story of being adopted and becoming a birth mom. But I’m not the same person I was then, and my story keeps shifting. Today, I open up about what has changed since I first shared that part of my heart—and about how I’m still learning to live in the tension of love, longing, and letting go.
I begin by reflecting on my journey, starting from my adoption as a baby and the loving home I was raised in. Decades later, I found myself looking at things from the other side, navigating the emotional and complex terrain of being a birth mom who chose adoption for my own son.
I talk about the ache that comes from unanswered questions and what it was like the day my son found me after 37 years of silence. For four incredible days, I got to reconnect—even just through texts—and fill in the blanks in each other’s lives. And then, just as suddenly, he was gone again. I haven’t heard from him since August 11, 2021, and that silence is a wound I’m learning to live with.
A few weeks ago, an unexpected moment at the movies cracked open these old feelings in a raw new way. I realized I needed to let go of the hope of reunion, not because I stopped caring, but because hope itself was becoming too painful to carry. Letting go was as hard as it was the first time—and even heavier, because now I know him.
Throughout this episode, I’m honest about my grief, my hope, and my process of acceptance. I remind myself and anyone listening that you absolutely cannot control other people’s decisions or the way they process their own story. But I can choose how I carry mine.
This is my invitation to you: If you’re living a story with no end in sight, try what I’ve learned—just honor it. Write it down. Say the name. Say a prayer. Let it exist as it is, without needing it to be different. You are absolutely not alone in this experience.
If something in my story resonates with you, I’d be honored if you shared this episode with someone else who might need to know they’re not alone, either.
Use the hashtag #epiclivingpodcast and comment on my Facebook page. You can dive deeper into my journey in my book, A Dreamer’s Travel Journal, or connect with more resources on my website, epiclivingwithjean.com. There you can find a free guide—7 Ways to Start Living Epic—and even set up a call if you want to talk about what “epic” might look like in your own life.
Be gentle with yourself. Remember: Some stories aren’t meant to be finished—they’re meant to be carried. And as always, it’s all about the story.
Thank you for being here with me. Now go out and live EPIC today and every day.
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When was the last time that you really sat with a story that didn't have an ending, not a lesson wrapped up in a bow, not something that makes perfect sense, but a story that's still unfolding, still tender, and still unfinished. Welcome to Epic Stories, where we have real conversations about the moments that shape us, the choices that stretch us, and the stories that remind us what's possible. My name is Jean Tillery, and today's story is still one that I'm learning how to carry. This episode is a little different, not because it's brand new, but because it's not. Last year, I shared one of the most personal stories of my life, the story of being adopted and being a birth mom. With Mother's Day coming up, I knew I didn't want to just replay that episode because I'm not the same person that I was when I told it the first time. So today, I want to talk about what it's like to still be living that story.
Jean Tillery [:Not the version that fits in a chapter, but the version that shows up in real life years later. For those of you who may not know my full story, I was adopted as a baby. I grew up in a home where I was deeply loved, fully claimed, and never once made to feel like I didn't belong. And then, years later, I found myself on the other side of that story. In high school, I became pregnant, and I made the decision to place my son for adoption. It was the hardest decision of my life and also the one that I knew was right for him. Him. For a few years, I had some contact with his adoptive family.
Jean Tillery [:Letters, photos, little glimpses into his life. And then it stopped. Like so many people in adoptive stories, I had to learn how to live, not knowing. Not knowing anything. Fast forward 37 years. In 2021, he found me. And for a few days, I got to step back into that part of my life that I had tucked away for a very long time. And then, just as quickly, he was gone again.
Jean Tillery [:I haven't spoken to my son since August 11, 2021. That's 1,722 days, to be exact. No text, no calls, blocked on all social media. Silence. And I don't say that for sympathy. I say that because it's real. When I placed him for adoption, I had to make a choice. I loved him, and I let him go.
Jean Tillery [:I remember what it felt like back then. I had to take all of that love, all of those thoughts, all of the wondering, and I had to lock it up, put it away. Not because I stopped loving him, but because I couldn't survive if I didn't. In August of 2021, while on my cross country epic road trip, I was literally visiting the town where that story began. He found me, and for four days, I got to be his mom again. We talked. Well, we texted. For four days.
Jean Tillery [:We talked about everything and nothing at all. The simple things. His family, his business, where he lived and what he was doing. Our shared love for music and travel and building things. He was funny and kind, and he made me laugh. I told him that he had two brothers and a sister and how I had lost part of my heart when I had to say goodbye to him. We both asked questions that took 37 years to have answered. I got to share pieces of a life that he had never been a part of and hear pieces of his that I had missed.
Jean Tillery [:And then he was gone again. A few weeks ago, something unexpected happened. I was at the theater watching a movie called Reminders of Him. I wasn't expecting it to hit me the way it did, but I sat there and cried through the entire thing. Not just because the story was sad, but because parts of it felt very familiar. It stirred something inside of me that I think I've been holding down for a long time. And a few days later, I realized I couldn't keep carrying this the same way that I had been. So I had to make a decision.
Jean Tillery [:Not about him, about me. I had to let go of the hope that there would someday be a reunion. Not because I thought it would would happen, but because I couldn't help but keep hoping that it might. It was too painful. And what hit me is that it felt exactly the same as it did when I placed him in the first place. That same ache, that same fear of letting go, that same choosing to move forward while leaving a piece of your heart behind. But this time, it feels heavier. Because I know him now.
Jean Tillery [:I've seen pictures of him. I've talked to him. And I'm losing him for the second time. Here's the truth that I've had to come to terms with. I can't control his decision to not have a relationship with me. I can't control the fact that my birth parents never reached out to me. I can't control how anyone else processes their story. What I can do is choose how I hold onto it.
Jean Tillery [:And I choose to believe that everyone involved did the best they could with what they had at the time. And I'm sharing this today for all the birth mothers, for all the adoptees, for anyone living in a story that doesn't have a clear ending. There is no right way to do this. There's no perfect response. If you feel peace one day and grief the next, you're not doing it wrong. If you hope and then decide that you can't hope anymore, you're not feeling. You're human. So here is your epic message for today.
Jean Tillery [:Love does not have to. Love does not require a response to be real. Some of the deepest love that you will ever experience will exist without a closure, without answers, and without being returned in the ways that you had hoped. It's still valid, and so are you. I have an epic challenge for you. Think about a person or a part of your story that still carries some heavy weight. Instead of trying to fix it or understand it, just acknowledge it. Write it down, Say their name, say a prayer.
Jean Tillery [:Let it exist without needing it to be different. If this story feels familiar to you in any way, please hear this. You are not alone. And if you want to read more about my journey, you can find it in my book, A Dreamer's Travel Journal. But for now, be gentle with yourself. Because some stories aren't meant to be finished, they're meant to be carried. And as always, it's all about the story. Thanks for hanging out with me.
Jean Tillery [:If today's episode struck a chord with you and you want to spread the love, please share using the hashtag epiclivingpodcast and leave a comment on my Facebook page. Head over to my website epiclivingwithjean.com to learn more about what it means to live epic. And while you're there, download a free guide, 7 Ways to Start Living Epic, and it will help you take your first step. If you want to learn more about my Dream Manager program or just want to chat about what epic might look like in your life, reach out to me and let's set up a call. See you next time. I hope you go out and live EPIC today and every day. And remember, it's all about the story.