Little girl, finding comfort in your big strong arms
Loving, safe – you were my everything
What happened that first night
When you silently slipped into my room?
I was seven. My mind was not mature enough to understand.
So, I left my body and looked up at the ceiling
Your violence and drinking. Mom’s valium and neglect.
Little girl broken, taking on the role of Good Will Ambassador
Striving to bring peace to the family
Your death at 42 was so shocking to me, I left my then 13-year-old body
I walked alone around the block
Experiencing a wave of relief knowing my entire world would be better now
The delayed grief would come after decades of low self-esteem and feeling unlovable
Then confronting myself like a voracious detective, I worked through layers upon layers
To uncover actual truths and false truths
What happened to me is part of my story, but it is not the whole story
It does not define me
I am pruning – and continue to prune – who I currently am and who I want to be
I now know I am enough, just as I am