A Mile In Our Shoes

All the time, you hear adults go on and on about how children are too young to be stressed, too young to be depressed.But of course you think that way, because you’ve never walked a mile in their shoes.
All the time, you hear adults go on and on about how no child has ever attempted, or committed suicide;

But of course you think that way, because you’ve never walked a mile in their shoes.
All the time, you hear adults tell little anxious boys and girls to man up, stop acting scared;

That’s easy for you to say, because you don’t have anxiety, you haven’t experienced a panic attack, and, again, you’ve never walked a mile in their shoes.
sometimes, you might hear adults say: you’re lying, you weren’t raped, you wanted that to happen.

Of course they’ll think that way. They haven’t seen, or felt the pain we were feeling, because they weren’t in the room… they’ve never walked a mile in our shoes.
They will never walk a mile in my shoes; that is a journey too long and hard for them. Oh, if they only knew the challenges I’ve faced, and still face; not only as a survivor of suicide, a survivor of rape, but as an African American, blind woman, and a proud member of the LGBT community.
You’ll never get to see my scars if you don’t know me; my own mother doesn’t get to see them, especially not the physical scars, and I live with her. Isn’t that crazy? If only she knew the pain she caused; if only I could forgive her. If only she could walk a mile in my shoes.

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