“Here’s why nothing should change.”
“Here’s why nothing should change. As a kid, a man with issues drove my school bus every day. He spoke to himself and drove erratically. But the job gave him purpose. He died behind the wheel of that bus. Things were better then.”
“Here’s why nothing should change. When I was a girl, I knew a woman with a rich husband who got divorced, and she didn’t take his money like the women of today. She worked hard, and never asked for a cent, and never took him to court. Women were tougher then.”
“Here’s why nothing should change. When I was young, and I was depressed, I was dragged out of bed and hosed down in the yard until I agreed to get up and do something. I still flinch every time I see a hose. But I am cured. That was the right way to fix me.”
“Here’s why nothing should change. Instead of going on disability, my grandma took care of my grandpa until he lost his legs. She cooked for him and had neighbors help move him. She fell and broke her hip helping him, but they never took a cent from the government.”
“Here’s why nothing should change. My parents had to do things the hard way, and so should everyone else. I had to pay off my student loans, and so should everyone else. People had integrity back then.”
“Here’s why nothing should change — because I think of this pain as a rite of passage, something to make you tougher, instead of problems to fix. I think of this pain as character-building, but I don’t think about what it’s building toward.”
“What is a future where we avoid avoidable pain? What happens beneath the avoidable pain? What would I do and who would I be…if I didn’t hurt?”
