I was carrying so much shame—more than any child should have to confront. But like pain and suffering, shame has no age requirement. There is no set cutoff or start. It’s just there one day and doesn’t leave. At least not of its own free will. On my luckiest days the shame sat on my spirit like a thin film of dust. I saw and felt it, but it wasn’t enough to disrupt things. On the worst days, it was like sliding down a muddy slope, helplessly sinking into the trap below.
