That said, I used to spend a lot of time grieving this girl who lost so much and who suffered so much under the rules of people like that teacher. I told my therapist that the tragedy of it all is that nobody ever came to save her and so she was never saved.
My therapist asked me why I saw her as separate from myself. I realized I felt that at some point between then and Adulthood, that girl had died, and I was mourning her death. All the time, I looked at photos of my younger self as if they were memories of a childhood friend I’d lost.
My therapist helped me understand and accept that she never died, she is me, and by surviving, I did save her life. She is alive, and those hopes and dreams she had before she felt pain and loss still exist in me. And every time someone treats me badly and I stand up for myself, I am standing up for her. Every time I try to get better, I am nursing her back to health. Every time I take care of myself, I am taking care of her. I am the adult she needed.
She was saved, because she is me, and I saved myself. I saved her. I saved us both.
I’m only sharing such personal feelings this plainly, because I hope it will resonate with some of you who feel that there’s a part of you, a child crying, who got left behind. If you’re still alive, you’re holding that child in your arms right now. They are vulnerable, they are wounded, but they are alive. Take care of yourself, and you’ll take care of them. I love you.
dededos
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
