Dear Teacher,
This summer you spoke of your experience with substance abusers and the mentally ill. You spent the whole summer speaking of your experiences but failed to ask about mine. You assumed you had authority on the subject but forgot that the people nearest you who spent their whole lives living in the shadows of the mentally ill and may also abuse the substances you speak of. I didn’t expect you to heal me or walk beside me in my journey, I just assumed you would have understood that the young 5 year old child many of your patients speak of turns up to be the 28 year old woman sitting next to you today. This 28 year old woman know exactly what it’s like to live with the mentally ill and substance abusers. This 28 year old knows what its like to live with family in and out of rehab. This woman knows the deepest secrets of the sickly while you clock out of your job and go home. This woman doesn’t get to clock out.
Dear Teacher don’t forget that just because i’m here sitting next to you doesn’t mean i don’t have a story to tell. I know you aren’t my therapist, I know you aren’t my doctor. Yet to be a teacher, you’ve got to also ask the right questions. You never asked, “What do you know about this population, What are your experiences with the mentally ill?”
Notesfromtheliving 