In the summer months, I spend most of my day running around with the kids at the summer program I work for. We do all kinds of fun things, most of which involve being outside. I don't know about you, but when it's 80 degrees Fahrenheit and humid, I definitely want to be in shorts and short sleeves.

However, I also have scars written all over my arms and legs due to past self-harming. They are prominent and I have accepted them as a part of who I am. In all honesty, I would never change the fact that I have them.

But I also work with young kids. Young kids who are incredibly curious about everything around them in this world. Anything they see that is new they ask about, and they expect you to have all the answers. It's one of the many things I love about working with them; the way their eyes light up as you successfully answer their question about the new shiny object.

But occasionally that shiny new object is me.

Because often kids that age are also incredibly curious as to how in the world I acquired all those scars.

When I'm asked by someone older the question never really bothers me. I don't mind telling people that I survived the hardest time of my life. I'm proud to say that.

But when an innocent six-year-old comes up and asks how me how I got them it's heartbreaking. They have no idea about the horrors this world can bring for some people, and I definitely don't want to be the one to destroy their bubble of innocence. They simply are too young to know.

So what on earth do you say to such an innocent soul when they ask such a wrenching question? If I'm being honest I would tell you that I have no idea.

I have no idea because there is no crazy story that you can bring up, no joke you can say.

Thankfully for me, my younger sister (also age six) has learned that they are a touchy subject for someone so young. She knows how they got there, but her mind is too pure to completely comprehend exactly what was going on. Honestly, I fear the day that she comes to me finally grasping that knowledge.

I'm not sure if I'll ever find the right words to say to the kids at work who ask. The first time they did I panicked and said I would tell them at the end of summer, which I know is going to be right around the corner.

What I want the world to take away from this is honestly quite simple: if you know me, please do not be afraid to ask me about my scars. They are a story of triumph that I love telling people about.

And to all the young kids at work, please know that in time you will know how I got these scars. In time you will understand the ideas that controlled me. In time you will understand that I was just a young girl that got incredibly lost while trying to find herself. And I hope that none of you ever have to experience the pain that I felt during that time.