Letter to my younger self

I’m sorry that her heroin ravaged your fetal body. Instead of nutrition and wholesome goodness, you fought for life the minute you had a beating heart.

I’m sorry you weren’t her priority when you should have been her joy. Instead, she chased the dragon whilst the devil was at play because for her the drugs were her delight.

I’m sorry he violated your innocence. When cuddles and toys were replaced with punches and touchings that no toddler should endure. His workings with darkness made you seek out the light, but your angels were with you all the way, holding your little hands.

I’m sorry the thunder scared you, and the foster homes made you numb. They had to keep you physically safe, as you were only three. You built a wall around your heart made from iron and steel. Your guides held the key for you, knowing one day you’ll be open, but for now, you were guarded, safe in your fortress.

I’m sorry they were dazzled, by your limp blonde hair, fragile blue eyes, and sombre expression. They were naive to your traumas yet captivated by your cuteness. A catalogue picture of a child to be adopted. No-one understood you. Physical needs were met, but the emotional traumas were disregarded, left to quietly fester and rot your mind.

I’m sorry the school kids called you weird, and you spent break times alone. Many times you daydreamed, out the classroom window, knowing there was more. In your solitude, even at 6 years old, the angels had their hands on you, as you explored your thoughts. Only to be snapped back to ‘reality’ by the teacher’s whip of a tongue.

I’m sorry you were again violated. He didn’t need to be teaching and showing you things you needn’t know. He had no right to claim your body as his toy. You grew to differentiate between light and dark, right and wrong. Your voice began to roar, and you began to fight.

I’m sorry that the longing for home and grieving your roots was too heavy a burden to bear. I’m sorry that people turned a blind eye to you, closed their eyes, and shut your mouth. Wanting to die at 9, to make the sadness stop, couldn’t be closer to hell. But the determination was strong in you, you stayed the course, fighting tooth and nail.

I’m sorry it all got too much when the cage door was flung open, and your instinct ran savage, destroying everything in its path. Only clearing out the old, to make room for the new.

The lack of understanding, comfort and love, replaced with being called crazy, forced to take pills, and locked away.

I’m sorry they put you back in the cage. At 13 in jail, choking yourself, slamming your head against concrete, begging the angels to let you die. I am so sorry. That it got to that. I am so so sorry for the hospitals and the drugs and the restraints and the injuries and the despair, anger, turmoil, sadness, angst, and heartbreak.

I am sorry for your upbringing of fights, and abuse, and homelessness, and sexual abuse and grief for a family you never had. I’m sorry that you had no-one. That you only had yourself. I’m sorry that no-one could help, that only you could help yourself. I’m sorry that no-one could save you. Only you could save yourself.

To fully experience the dark, to be in the depths of despair, and the chains of hell, only when you can’t go any further, must you go the other way. To fully know the light, we must know the darkness. With everything comes a shadow.

I was never alone, for my soul knows best. I had myself. My heart, my fight and my will….my life to fight for. I found myself and found my soul. I embrace my inner child with the love no-one else ever gave her. Because I am her, and she is me. I am her saviour. I am her defender and I am her salvation.

I embrace my inner child, as my own daughter. I heal and comfort her wounds. I restore her back to full health. I unlock her from the shackles and chains of her mind.

Because I have the key.

I see you, I am here. I am ready to embrace you with open arms child. I’ll hear you roar, and see you weep, but know my child, it’s my love that you seek.