You have always told me how beautiful I am and how lucky you were to get me. I think I was (am) afraid by this seemingly boundless potential that was handed me—was I a princess who deserved everything? Sensibility told me no. So did that mean I was basically nothing? Sensibility was speechless.

SAVE THE DATE!

Stillness is our breath, our heart, our body, where we reside. Tornado is the mind, a place of stories and of others.

I can’t talk about David’s book as a whole here because that would be like trying to explain New York City to you in a single breath.

Chameleons change the colour of their skin to suit their environment and blend in.

It's one thing to live your life and do the best that you can. It’s another thing to feel like you’re a train on the edge of flying off the tracks.

The other day some social workers were talking to me about You Don’t Look Adopted. One of the women asked, When do you think you’ll heal?

I am sitting here writing this so I won’t go to Carmax.

Last night in the car, my daughter gave me an overview of Taylor Swift’s breakup songs. It was the quickest drive from Maine to Massachusetts ever.

This is my second summer in New England since moving away to go to college, and last week, feeling ready, I had taken on poison ivy.

So as not to ruin the experience, I had to keep reminding myself not to make stories out of my body’s feelings.

My friend and fellow adoptee and writer, Andrew, texted and sent me a Father’s Day episode of the podcast Honestly by Bari Weiss. “These motherfuckers are fucking lying,” Andrew wrote. “Start listening at minute 33.”