I’m riding the bus home, and I think to myself, the struggle. I’m use to the easy life, and until now I’ve never had to be an adult. It’s just so happens a friend of mine rode the bus too, some how we started talking about life.
Good things happen to bad people, I’ll never understand that. This friend started to tell me about foster and group homes, abuse, and being forced to become an adult before she even hit her teenage years. Jane told me how she and her sister were locked in a room for hours by her foster mother, how she tried her best to stay with her sister, how after being in foster homes after a year at age 9, she realized she wasn’t going home to her mom. When she became a teen she ran away 62 times in one year, she didn’t want to be there, who could blame her? When she said she accepted her life and stopped running, it brought tears to my eyes. I felt her pain.
It’s easier to run away from issues, but even harder to stay and look them in the eyes and accept them for what they are.
She’s 20 now, she seems to be doing well, rising above the odds.
What I realized is that everyone has a story and demons haunting them, but there’s always someone who has more to tell and more resisting than you. I need to always remember that.