The People Behind My Eyes

Recently I’ve run across two letters written by a survivor to their inner child concerning their feelings about that inner child. They were quite revealing, very emotional and something I’m sure survivors can relate to. I figured I’d give a go at one.

Dear Little Me,

Back then, I wish the adult me could have been with you. I would have told her she couldn’t treat you that way but I would not have stood guard by your room to watch over you or picked you up when she threw you down. I would not have given you food from my plate or held you when you feared her most because we wouldn’t have stayed. Had I been an adult with you back then I would have used resources available to me to walk out of there and manage on our own.

I know very well that living with her was hell. I know how afraid you were. I know how tired you were. How on earth could you sleep in her house and rest? The song she sang, the one she sang when her heart wasn’t on fire and she wasn’t in the mood to hurt you, that song was never heard enough and I’m sorry for that. I just think that even though your heart could rest when she sang that song that it was wrong to need to hear it just to assure your safety. She was wrong.

You did all the things little girls do to try and make things right. You went to school, you did chores, you said yes ma’me and yes sir. You spoke English the way it was meant to be spoke and stood the way the spine was designed to stand. You even made her cut out hearts to tell her you loved her and you picked wild flowers to stand in a vase. You did all the sweet things that kids do and there is nothing to be ashamed of for that.

I didn’t realize how little you were. I went back to the old house several years back and saw the tree you use to hide in. there was a hollowed out spot in the trunk and you fit in there when the mother was at her meanest. I always thought that tree was huge but when I saw it the size wasn’t that big at all, you were small, very small. The tree in our backyard with a similar hollow trunk reminds me of the tree you hid in, it reminds me of how small you were. It lets me tell you with 100% confidence that you were just a very little girl living with a very mean, huge, cruel woman and nobody on earth can ever say there was anything at all you could do to make life better for yourself.

I could not be back there with you because I didn’t exist. I couldn’t take you away from there because I didn’t exist but I do now and I’m going to use the resources I have available to me to take away what pain I can and nurse what pain I can’t.

Its way past your bed time. You do not have to hold your breath and wait to hear if I’ll sing you the safe song. You can curl up and pull the covers up under your chin and sleep because as I stand here right now I swear I’m not ever going to hurt you. Go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning. We have a doctor’s appointment about the hurt, it’s one of the resources we have available to us now. Good night, sleep tight, everything’s going to be alright.

Sincerely,
Adult Me

From me to me-Monday, January 29, 2007-8:44PM EST