Life After Truth - Original Writing Essay

When I was about 7 I found out that I was adopted. When I found out I was on the playground and my classmates was teasing me about it. I never told my parents because I figured the little kids were lying. One day my family and I were doing some spring cleaning and I found my adoption papers. At that point I started to question my God because I could not understand why my real mommy and daddy did not want me. I cried myself to sleep each and every night. As a little girl I often wondered what I did to deserve to be given up. I questioned why all the other kids got to grow up with their real family and I did not.

You are probably wondering is this a sad or happy, and it is both. You are wondering about our adoption, and honestly know of us actually really know, and we have very little memories of our parents. I have always wonder who paid for us to go to school. How come we could just walk into a store and we were allowed to take whatever we needed. And i have come up with a conspiracy theory that we aren’t from around here. And the answer to the question that everyone is thinking, how in the world did i cure my mother my mother when i don't have that type of ability. Well it is a little complicated and honestly I don't even understand it. When i was little we caused an accident that caused are mother

likely to go to hell for a period. In my opinion it would be unfair.

It’s been a few weeks and it’s finally that day, it’s adoption day. We arrive at court all cheered up for this to finally be official. Before we walk into the room the judge says something to the foster parents and when they told me and my brother, I ran out of court and cried. They had said that on my birth certificate there was a different name for father, meaning I couldn’t get adopted. I told my brother to get adopted anyways I just wanted to know he was safe. I walked back in the courtroom with a smile on my face but i was dying on the inside.

My adopted parents (Rick and Vicki Sbaugh) saw John and I at an adoption far. My mom told my dad. “Those are going to be our kids” On February second 1995, the adoption became finalized. The judge asked all of us to stand up to get sworn in. well I started to cry and get scared because I got stuck; I had to climb underneath the table because I put the chairs arms too far underneath the table. Everyone else was

When it is performed on a dying person it is often referred to as the

How does it feel to be adopted? Has life been altered as a result of being adopted? These questions have never fazed my view of being adopted. Awareness of being adopted began as far back as I can recall and has never been a taboo family topic. Adoption didn’t affect my life in any sort of way as a child. As I matured, the realization of the impact being adopted has had on my life has evolved. This insight created a new level of gratitude for my family and my life.

Throughout my childhood, My mom always brought up to me that one day she wanted to adopt a kid and give a child the life that they were never able to experience because they never had a consistent family or life because they were always getting moved in and out of foster care. Just this past year my mom and stepdad had a family talk with all five off us and told us that they wanted to start the process of adopting. The idea to me at first was kind of crazy because I thought to myself I already have four siblings how is my life going to be with one more. But I was happy about the idea at the same time because I knew that we were going to help a kid in need. These past 2 year my parents were going to the classes every Wednesday to go to adoption

When I finally learned about my heritage, I was ten. My mother and I were standing in the bank vault, and she was getting some papers for a trip to Canada, to update all of our passports. While Mom was sorting through the papers and jewelry in our lock box, I joined her. One particular, colorful document caught my eye, so I drew it from the lockbox and held it up to her, asking what it was. After looked at what I was talking about, she explained that it is my birth certificate. The writing was strange, definitely not English, so this couldn’t possibly be my birth certificate. Mom gathered all of the passports, my birth certificate, and we went home. I couldn’t stop asking her questions about what all of the words meant, until she finally told me. That day, I learned of my adoption. The adoption story

There is a reoccurring theme in the history of the world that every civilization has contributed to: it is the endless pursuit of truth and knowledge. The pursuit has never been about reaching a destination or an end point, or about acquiring all the truth and knowledge there is to acquire. Men have learned early on that the universe it too vast to unearth all its mysteries. However, throughout this pursuit, men have also learned about the limitations of their own understandings, the setbacks of their capacity to know the world as well as they would like. This acknowledgement of man’s inability to fathom the world in its entirety is what has fueled and continues to fuel the hunt for truth. The age of Enlightenment was characterized by the abandonment of age-old dogma in favor of a new way of thinking (Greenblatt and Abrams 2182-85). The scientific method, developed by Francis Bacon, had opened up several avenues for discovery and paved the way for empiricism, a prominent aspect of the era’s intellectual movement (Greenblatt and Abrams 2182-85). Among the greatest philosophers of the seventeenth century, John Locke is remembered as the most influential liberal philosopher to date. His contributions to political philosophy in what became known as modern day liberalism designated him as the apotheosis of Enlightenment thinkers, but his contributions extended far beyond politics. Locke ventured into the realm of epistemology, which is the subject of one of his most profound

Having my dad around all the time wasn’t my everyday routine. I’d see him once or twice a week so I wasn’t very much used to see him every day. One day I came home after school and he and my mom were on the balcony talking, the notice I was staring, they both looked at me and called for a family meeting by the tone of their voices I could tell there was

On that sunny day, a brilliant afternoon in which the birdsong and the sound of the breeze was heard. Where each bell the clock gives reflected his despair and anxiety. Everyone have been waiting to be 2:00pm for the crucial moment. Is seen the back and forth of people, the scent of roses in vases white and blue, the white tablecloths and velvety that move with the passage of the people. The glittering glasses as stars and champagne as cannon ready to be fired, the whispering and the smiles of the guests with their elegant suits and dresses, everything was perfect. finally, the time that everyone expected came, where a young very handsome, elegant, blue-eyed, tall and slender but muscular named Jack was going to marry a beautiful and good family girl named Jennifer. “Jack do you accept Jennifer as your wife?” Asked the cure. At that time the hands freeze and his throat were dry. The fear of not knowing what to say, who look or where to turn for help was killing him inside. “I don’t accept!” He said

At the age of six I was officially adopted by the Henry family. My name was changed, my history was left behind. Not only was my history left behind, however, so where my siblings. My parents were not able to adopt us all, causing all of to have to split up. This is one of the most traumatic moments in my life. I still remember being pried from my little brother’s arms, one of the most traumatic events in my life. I would have to say I was going through Identity versus role confusion at this time. Being adopted, for a long time, meant to me that I did not belong. I did not know who my brothers and sisters were. I also didn’t know my mother and father, which caused an emotional hit on me. This caused me to feel like I didn’t have an identity. I was confused and was unsure of how to deal with the stress that was being thrown at me.

When I was fourteen years old, some pre-pubescent insult of a highschool boy assured me that it was MY fault my parents put me up for adoption because I was a less than desirable human being. I took a second to gather my thoughts and calmly responded, “Well at least I was chosen. Your poor parents, having no other choice, are stuck with you.” Although these insults tore me apart from the inside out, making light of them was the only way I knew how to protect myself from vulnerability. I didn’t want anyone to know my story because the truth is, it wasn’t a pretty story. While other kids who were adopted waltzed around holding their pretty stories up as if they deserved the Pulitzer Prize for them, I tucked mine away deep into the crevices of my being.

I remember it was a Tuesday, only because that was vocabulary homework day for spelling class. The day started out just like every other day, going to school and then home to do my homework. I grabbed the dictionary and began the normal process as I did for many weeks prior. I got to the word adopted. I looked it up and as I read the definition, ‘Adopted: legally take another’s child and bring it up as one’s own,’ I read as a sense of uncertainty came over me. I heard this word quite often in the past since I was referred to as the adopted daughter, but never paid that much attention. I sat at the kitchen table trembling from the inside out. Every possible thought was going through my head but I couldn’t finish a single one. “Was I adopted?” I reluctantly asked my mom. “Yes, you were honey,” she responded as if it was no big deal. The thoughts going through my head started spinning out of control. How could …? I’m not…? Who do I ….? How did …? If I’m not who I thought I was…..?