Hello younger me,

As I set here in my nice home, in my comfy pajamas, with my beautiful family of husband and pets; I think of you, the little girl that I once was. I think of your sadness at never being good enough or strong enough, quiet enough or sill enough, quick enough or thin enough, or anything, anything enough. I think of the nights you cried into your pillow, of how you learned how to sob silently, of how you learned that you couldn’t be found crying because, well, because you would be attacked again and you just couldn’t take one more verbal insult or one more violent outburst tonight. I think of how you learned to hug your pillows, your animals, your stuffed toys or just yourself; because asking for hugs and physical touch too much led to insults and verbal attacks on yourself and your emotional neediness. I think of the bruises, that will never fade, that were put on your soul, your heart and your mind, because you just needed too much that day. I think of the times of asking questions, from that beautiful inquisitive mind, and being shot down verbally, because you were stupid or dumb or just couldn’t get the simplest things in life right. I hear the insults, the hurtful quips, the sayings passed from generations before, that you have hidden in your heart and mind and still beat yourself with today. I wish I could hug you, hold you, encourage you, listen to you and just be there for you; but I can’t, I can’t because I’m still there with you, huddling and afraid, terrified and alone, just a little girl trapped. Stuck, fighting to get out, struggling to survive, dying to be rescued; while living this beautiful, amazing life that you have achieved, but still cannot enjoy.