A Note To My 13-year-old self
Every time I see you, I look away, in fear and shame. I see the 13-year-old whose trust was broken, whose sense of security was destroyed.
I see that 13-year-old young woman who found a way to survive, despite the emotional trauma, despite the hurt and cloud of mental confusion, you found a way to survive.
Tonight as the tears make a way down my cheek, I cry for you, because you could not cry, no you needed to be strong, and you were.
You carried their shame on your shoulders for over 20 years, and despite no one holding themselves accountable, you decided to hold yourself accountable for your reaction, for your healing and for life.
As I observed you go through your nightly rituals, the black-sea body butter massaged into your skin, the rose-hip oil that covers your face, most importantly the water that washes away the dirt of the day, and the soothing sounds that heal the day's scars. I realised this is how you show self-love; this how you say I am worth it; this is how you gain strength to keep going.
You have been there for me for so long, your inner strength has kept me alive, and despite how many times you have wanted to throw in the towel, how many times you have taken those pills with the hope that tomorrow will never come, somehow you are have survived and tonight I am here to say I am here for you.
I know your deepest fear is not that you are inadequate, but because you are powerful beyond measure. It is your light, not your darkness that most frightens you, but it is time......
It is time that I continue to run the race, but before I go thank you for being soft with yourself, thank you for being strong, thank you for never letting the outside world destroy the love that you were born with. Thank you, thank you💞