Pain, Pride, Sadness and Anger

My only memories of safety from when I was young, are in my room, alone in the kitchen or in the garden. The little hammocks on the ceiling for my stuffed animals, my bunny circling around in the washing machine, or my imaginary friend Jack, who was always there for me when I had become too old to take my snuggle bunny with me outside our house.

I only felt safe when I was all alone. The world around me made me feel trapped, everything I did in this world was wrong, everything I did needed punishment, everything scared me. My parents seemed to find out everything, every good day or happy moment ended up in pain. I was always misbehaving, I always made mistakes and I needed punishment for just existing in this world.

The real world made me afraid, I wasn’t safe there, everything was judged and seen, everything was bad. So I created my own world, a world only I knew existed. A world without judgement, a world in which I could play, feel and be.

Upstairs in my room, alone in the kitchen or outside in the garden when no one was watching me, I was allowed to be sad, and my sadness would be excepted. I was allowed to be scared, and I would be protected. I was allowed to feel lonely, and I would be surrounded by friends. I was allow to laugh and feel happy with the things that only I was able to see. I was safe, until my parents would discover this world.

This is a memory, a memory of the 3 year old girl I used to be. A memory that forms the base of many other bad and painful ones. A memory that hurts me till today.

It hurts to see that even then I wasn’t safe, that even then I had to suppress myself. It hurts to notice that even my first memory is too late, that even then I was already damaged. It hurts that I couldn’t go anywhere, that I was trapped and had to push through it by myself. It hurts to notice that even then I had to be extremely strong, it hurts that even then I was hurt.

But I’m also proud, proud that I was trying, proud that no matter how small I was, I did not give up on myself, proud that I tried to give myself the best I could. Proud that I was so strong.

This strength I see in this tiny version of me makes me angry and sad. There should have been someone for me, there should have been help, I should not have had to go through all of this by myself. I wish I could have been there for me, for this girl, this helpless little good girl.

Pain, Pride, Sadness and Anger.
Red, Yellow, Blue and Black

Dirty, Confused and Pulled

Strong and Optimistic.
Shaped and Bright.


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