Dear Little Me,
I’m sorry for the pain that you endured.
Too sensitive.
Too much.
You didn’t deserve to be emotionally abandoned. You didn’t deserve to be gas lit. You didn’t
deserve to be stolen from. You didn’t deserve to be left out of a family. You didn’t deserve to feel alone.
Shuffled.
Pawned off.
Used as leverage.
Dollar signs.
You didn’t deserve to be treated differently than your new siblings just because your parents got divorced and theirs are together.
We don’t treat him differently.
You’re too jealous.
We did the same for you.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
That never happened.
You didn’t deserve to have your looks torn apart.
Your hair is too frizzy.
Your eyebrows are too thick.
Think of how good you’d look if you tried to be skinnier.
But what if I told you that you make it. That you’re not too sensitive, too jealous or too much. You are no longer shuffled, or pawned off, or used as leverage. You make your own money and no longer support someone else’s household simply because of your existence.
You didn’t deserve to grow up feeling that chaos was normal. You didn’t deserve to feel unsafe; constantly walking on eggshells. You deserved a safe space.
What if I told you that you slowly find nurturing within yourself. That none of this is your fault. That you’re not responsible for how others treated you because they didn’t treat themselves. What if I told you that you find someone who loves your sensitivity, and wraps you up in stability; warmth, despite your efforts to push him and others away. He stays.
Because what you deserve is love.