I see you sitting there on the deck hugging your knees, a blanket around your shoulders. I see you chain smoking, your mascara running down your face in a river of tears, your hands shaking and your headaches.
The police have left, your parents have left, you are home from the hospital. He’s in jail, at least for the night. Alone on the deck, your babies are asleep in their beds. You wonder how much this will affect them. Will they remember? They are so young; what will you tell them? As you bury your head in your hands, I can see your too-thin body shaking with fear, with anxiety, doubts swirling around in your mind like so many black clouds. As with so many nights before, you will not sleep tonight.
I am sitting beside you, even though you can’t feel me or see me. My arms are around you and I am whispering strength and love into your ear. Please know that you didn’t bring abuse on yourself. The cruel words and bruises you carefully cover with makeup are the work of someone who has deep wounds himself. Your husband who speaks love out of the same mouth that calls you vile names, whose hands hold you tenderly and then viciously strike you, tossing your body like a rag doll is responsible. You both bear scars from childhood trauma, from parents who love you in their best yet broken way. Forgive them; you all have a long way to go before this chapter is over.
Tomorrow you will go to file a restraining order; he will be served with papers before he is released. You will go to court, the order will be granted, and you will not look at him again for a year. Take a deep breath; you will find the courage to get through this. People will watch you, not knowing how to help. Their generation was one that kept this kind of thing secret. Your friends will offer prayers on your behalf, but not one will speak the supportive words you long to hear, nor will they offer a safe place to rest. Please don’t take this as not loving you, they do.
The two of you will divorce and raise your children together in a loving and supportive way. Your children will know the love of a bonus mom; she’s amazing. You will have no regrets, many experiences, and understand that healing is a lifelong journey.
Dry your tears, get some rest. Allow yourself to have a happy life; know that you are not only good enough, but you are also amazing.

Picture this,
The year was 1996, she was a few months shy of turning 11 yrs old.
Starts at a new school. Unfamiliar faces.
As the days go on, the voices from these unfamiliar faces start to haunt her.
Awake and in her sleep.
These words grow more harsh & uglier.
As the days turn into months;
she keeps every word, every emotion, every feeling inside. Like a full bottle.
Putting the “privacy” sign up on her body.
Her bottle is like the one she keeps at home –
shut tight.
Trying to open up wasn’t taken lightly at home. Her supposedly safe place. She got shut down.Why she hibernates the words spoken of the unfamiliar voices every day.

Were you able to vision all of that?

Okay, here’s one –

It’s now the year 2025 & she is a grown woman whose almost turning 40.
She started taking care of herself at the age of 33. A month shy of turning 34.
She jumped on the therapy couch like Tom Cruise did on Oprah’s couch.
Yes, that high too.
She started to open that bottle cap twist by twist. Some days it hurt the palm of her hand. The lid being so tight to twist or turn.
This unfamiliar face wasn’t like what she was shown decades prior.
This unfamiliar face was someone she felt safe with. Someone who got her to reach mountain tops she didn’t know existed.
Hurt her to the core yet she’s never given up.

If there’s a journal entry this grown woman could write to the 11 yr old girl in 1996, it’d go as deep as this –

Brave, that’s what you are. Even when the world was ugly. When the human race was trying to knock you down. Trying to cover you up with such disgusting words.
Beautiful, inside and out.
Even when you were covered with such hatred from the outside noise. You stood your solid ground. You marched to your own beat – even when those footsteps burned.

I’m here to tell you, young girl, you did it!
We did it! We put our front foot forward & kept marching. Look how stunning it all came about?
Yes, there were hazard lights in your way, yet you pushed till you couldn’t push anymore.
Your time has come, little one. You can rest your feet. Rest your mind. Keep your head held high & not turning back every few seconds trying to dodge those bullets.
You can unclench your jaw & release your shoulders. I got it from here.
You are safe. Safe from unfamiliar faces & their way of reaching for your dreams.
I got you. And I’m not letting you go. I can’t.

To that 11 yr old little girl who walked life with a full bottle – dump that expired liquid out. There’s no room for such where we’re headed. Plastic bottles are not allowed. Glass bottles are dangerous.
I love you. Let’s go crush this thing called life with our voices loud. So loud, it sounds as if a siren is going off in the firehouse. You deserve it.

Did you envision all of that?

Such clarity it brought this grown woman whose reaching 40. Letting her younger self know she’s worth it – always has been worth it – was everything. Brought proudness to her heart.

Picture this,
It’s the year 2025 & she’s more relaxed than she could ever wish for – thanks to her grown woman whose reaching 40.

Until we meet again! ♡

Writing Score 100%