Please Don’t Tell Me I Was Lucky To Be Adopted | The Washington Post
For me, being an adoptee is like getting into a horrible car accident and surviving with devastating injuries. But instead of anybody acknowledging the trauma of the accident, they tell you that you should feel lucky. Even if the injuries never stop hurting, never quite heal. Even if the injuries make it impossible to feel comfortable in everyday life. So I learned not to talk about it. Even though my bones ached.
10 Things No One Tells Women About Turning 40 | Medium
You pull your head out of your ass. You take better care of yourself but you become less selfish. You appreciate the beauty in your surroundings. You stop taking selfies and start taking in sunsets. You accept compliments without countering them with a self-depreciating comment. You realize that, most of the time, you have more choices than you think you do. You stop wasting your time being a victim of circumstances that you have the power to change.
Last year at this time, my New Year’s resolutions revolved around carbs, and eating fewer of them. This year, carbs are the least of my worries. My resolutions for 2015 are all about trying to let go of any notion of perfection and seek what my mother calls “crumbs of pleasure” — connection, peace and actual joy on the heels of a life-altering tragedy that could easily have pushed me into bed (with lots of comforting carbs) for a long time.
Considering all of this, it is a tragic and fatal flaw in our system of government if such a person, in spite of the enormous evidence that he is not fit to be an officer of the law, was ever afforded the opportunity again. The position comes with too much power and the potential to inflict far too much harm for someone like Loehmann to ever hold it. Ultimately, his poor judgment and incompetence not only makes all officers look bad, but it cost a 12-year-old boy his life.
One Tweet Perfectly Sums Up The Big Problem With How We Talk About Terrorism – Mic
