Family @ MindSay

We have a really dreary day for the Man to be off work. He was hoping it would be nice and sunny, but it's not. God decided to pour out a few bowls of rain over our home. I wouldn't mind going out in the rain today. I think it's part of the reason my mood sucks so bad. I don't want to be touched, kissed, cuddled up on...just EW right now. I feel really badly, since now is the time my son has decided he wants to be all cuddly and kissy all day long. *sigh* He keeps wanting to sit on me, hug me all hard, give me 15 kisses. I wish I was in the mood to really enjoy that. Thanks to the dreary weather, my mood is all askew. The Man and I will have an interesting day if I can't shake this.

So I've been in a relationship for over a year.  I love my boyfriend and he's the best guy I've ever been with but sometimes I don't feel that chemisty and crazy lust. I know that lust fades and companionship endures but sometimes I wonder.  We're very serious and will probably be moving in together soon but sometimes I just get confused.  I'm at that age where marriage in inevitable and we've talked about marriage.  I don't know how to explain how I feel.  I guess I always feel restless after being with someone for awhile, even the one person I was completely in love with.  Sometimes that thought of getting married and having kids scares me and other times I welcome it with open arms.  All my friends are either married with kids or in a relationship.  I just sometimes wish I could go back to age 20.  I hate feeling and getting old, it's hard to explain....

by Julie Hryniewicz-Hache

The fact that you are reading these words means that you are part of a very unique group of individuals. Whether you are an officer, the loved one of an officer, or someone who is employed or involved in any capacity in this industry, you probably understand the deep impact of the policing culture on your life. Policing is now in your blood and will forever change the way that you see the world.

 

Although I pulled the pin on my policing career, after only eight years on the force, it was news that a former co-worker of mine had ended own his life, that reminded me how we are all still connected. Hearing this type of information affects every one of us, whether we know the person or not. It causes us to reflect on our own lives and is a perfect opportunity to reestablish our priorities for our brief time on this earth.

 

READ ON

http://www.police-writers.com/articles/hache_life_too_short.html

I pray that the reading of this very personal account of war and its aftermath will benefit other combat veterans agonized by severe and chronic PTSD as it has been for me in the writing of it. The intention of this account is to help them, their friends and loved ones better understand this devastating “psychological, automatic, and natural response” to repeated, life threatening situations and to offer them hope and guidance in achieving a much brighter future. This publication will bring them to the realization that they are not alone in their sufferings and that professional help, understanding and comradeship, is as close as the nearest Veterans Administration Medical Center.

 

READ ON

 http://www.police-writers.com/articles/griffin_bugle_call.html

I want to tell you about the Bear.  He was, and to me still is, all that is pure and admirable about being a cop.  I was assigned to him during the summer of ’69, and my five months with him left me so in awe, so touched and troubled, that I still often think of him.

 

The bear flew to the scene of an incident like an avenging angel.  His small thick hands grasped the wheel so tightly in anger that I actually feared for the life of the unknown suspect at the other end of the ride.  No red lights or siren; just a gut-wrenching wide-open acceleration born of Bear’s fury.  I was nervous with this field training officer, who was known to all as Bear – or THE Bear to those who were perpetually in wonder of him, as I certainly was.  I stole a glance at him as we throttled around the corner, a block away from our assigned location, and involuntarily shivered at the sight.  A 220-pound, five feet, eight-inch body swathed in blue material, harnessed by a gunbelt partially obscured in fat, topped by an undersized head sporting a marine-style crewcut.  A bear indeed, with an animal-like anger to match.  He scared me then, for he looked so formidable.  But this was before I came to know him.  And it was before his final bout with evil. 

 

READ ON

http://www.police-writers.com/articles/gilbert_bears_lesson.html