I woke up way to early this morning to the light rain and it made me cry. Just a light rain to water things to make them grow and thrive. And I kept crying. Yesterday was a really really hard day. I have always known that I didn't like the little girl that I was. I have called her not nice things, I have blamed her for the things that she in no way had control over. In my head I logically know that all these things are completely crazy, I logically know that I was 5 and I expected way to much from her little five year old brain, but I wanted her to be smarter to fight more to stand up for herself. I often use the word "HATE" when it comes to her, because I do. I do not like her not for a second. But yesterday it became more than clear, almost crystal clear just how much hate that I have for her. The hatred and how deep that goes for her is at the very core of who I am.
I will spare you the details but I realized yesterday that the care and love that I am able to give others, the care that I would give someone who had gone through a life like mine are not the same words that I feel are fitting for me. I don't believe that I deserve those same things, those same kind words. I don't believe that the little five year old that I was deserved the same things as any other little girl. I even hate her almost, no let me be honest I hate her even more than my father. And I would kill him with my own bare hands for what he did to me but I think even worse things for myself, for being five, for being involved, for being there, for being hurt.
I see her as less than zero. She is the worst of the worse. She always did what she was told and would just do what needed to be done, clean up the mess try to get some sleep, smile pretend that all is well. Be quiet watch everything and ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS be prepared. Forget the innocent life of playing with friends and being just that : innocent, oblivious, with out a care in the world. That world is not for you. And I cry, that makes me so sad.
If you know me at all you know how much I love children. I love all of them their little laughs, their little hearts and any child that I see hurt I want to run to them make it better, find a way to make sure that they are OK. I care for a child's heart as the most precious thing ever because my friends it is the only one that they will ever have and I want to make sure that I never do anything to hurt that heart. I care for their little hearts because I never want any child to feel the things that I have. I care for their little hearts because they matter, because it needs to be taken care of, it needs to be able to grow and learn and thrive and love and be joyful. Those were things my little heart at 5 never got to experience. And I know I missed out on these things, and I can't get them back, so I try to give that to other children. All that I want to give other children, I don't want to go near five year old me.
So yesterday since I had to get the kids in The Colony, and after realizing just how much that I hate that five year old, and being confused and hurt and heart broken that I feel the way that I do. I took a trip down memory lane seeing all the places that I lived, the places that I was hurt the places that other people lived and it hurt. It hurt my heart today and I am 39. Yet I expected the little five year old, the little girl that was there and experienced all those places and people to be strong and powerful and stand up and speak out and How in the world was she supposed to do that ?!? I was 5 ! I had only been alive and breathing for five short years and I expected more from her, oh my goodness, I am just so sorry!
They say that we do everything for a reason, there is a purpose to everything and I don't have a clue as to what purpose that hating her with such a passion has. Its so strong, so deep and so automatic that trying to figure out the reasons why are beyond my understanding. I don't want to HATE her, I am so sorry that the life that she had to have was so awful, and as awful as i know that it was I hate HER for it!!!! And in my logical brain I completely understand that doesn't make sense, but my heart, in the most special space, I loathe her for being her for being born into the family that she was. For being there when those things were happening. For picking out a shirt to wear to bed, for so many many things. I could go on and on and on and still give you reasons. But if you ask me reasons why I should love her; there would be silence. That is not fair. And saying that i understand that life isn't exactly fair, anyway that you look at it but this is big, this is huge ! THIS is my next step.
I don't know how to stop the hurting because I know that I don't want to hate her, but I don't know how not too. I never remember a time when I didn't hate, I never remember a time that I liked the little girl that she was. When she was pretty or cute, or loved. I know that I am going to have to learn to love her. And I even say that and it makes me sick to my stomach, but I am going to have to learn. I can't treat that part like it has been treated for many many years, like OK you can stop hurting me then i am just going to pick up where all those people left off and in my head I can understand that. But my heart, that is exactly what it is doing. I am continuing the same treatment just like them, and I have to stop. I read the words today that hit my heart hard : She was a victim not a participant. She was a victim not a participant. That is one of those statements that makes my world stop and I say it again. Little five year old me was a victim not a participant. And that's how I see her, that little girl I see participating in the things that were done.
My mind knows that its crazy insane to hate her, but my heart feels the hate to my core, and all of me knows that I don't want to. My next steps are figuring out the purpose in hating her so very much and then going from there. Someone always says it happened and it mattered ! And I want to believe that. I know what happened I see the pictures everyday like it was yesterday. If I keep hating her then I continue to say that it doesn't matter, she doesn't matter. If it mattered I believe that I would be treated different today, I believe that if it mattered people would not have been so cold and irresponsible. If it mattered people would have stood up for me and stopped it. If it mattered someone would have given me a hug and said they were sorry. If only it mattered, If what happened to her mattered then how in the world could I possibly hate her ?!?!
This is such a hard thing to understand to comprehend, to learn to live with. I fear that loving her will somehow make me fall apart to feel bad for her to be so sad that she missed out on so much. And I feel a little of that, but the hate takes over its so much stronger than the sorry. I think that its going to be a long process learning to love her little by little and I think realizing that in no way, in any world was she ever a participant in the things that happened to her. They happened to her , and she deserves the things that I would give any other child that had been through the same hell.
I will spare you the details but I realized yesterday that the care and love that I am able to give others, the care that I would give someone who had gone through a life like mine are not the same words that I feel are fitting for me. I don't believe that I deserve those same things, those same kind words. I don't believe that the little five year old that I was deserved the same things as any other little girl. I even hate her almost, no let me be honest I hate her even more than my father. And I would kill him with my own bare hands for what he did to me but I think even worse things for myself, for being five, for being involved, for being there, for being hurt.
I see her as less than zero. She is the worst of the worse. She always did what she was told and would just do what needed to be done, clean up the mess try to get some sleep, smile pretend that all is well. Be quiet watch everything and ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS be prepared. Forget the innocent life of playing with friends and being just that : innocent, oblivious, with out a care in the world. That world is not for you. And I cry, that makes me so sad.
If you know me at all you know how much I love children. I love all of them their little laughs, their little hearts and any child that I see hurt I want to run to them make it better, find a way to make sure that they are OK. I care for a child's heart as the most precious thing ever because my friends it is the only one that they will ever have and I want to make sure that I never do anything to hurt that heart. I care for their little hearts because I never want any child to feel the things that I have. I care for their little hearts because they matter, because it needs to be taken care of, it needs to be able to grow and learn and thrive and love and be joyful. Those were things my little heart at 5 never got to experience. And I know I missed out on these things, and I can't get them back, so I try to give that to other children. All that I want to give other children, I don't want to go near five year old me.
So yesterday since I had to get the kids in The Colony, and after realizing just how much that I hate that five year old, and being confused and hurt and heart broken that I feel the way that I do. I took a trip down memory lane seeing all the places that I lived, the places that I was hurt the places that other people lived and it hurt. It hurt my heart today and I am 39. Yet I expected the little five year old, the little girl that was there and experienced all those places and people to be strong and powerful and stand up and speak out and How in the world was she supposed to do that ?!? I was 5 ! I had only been alive and breathing for five short years and I expected more from her, oh my goodness, I am just so sorry!
They say that we do everything for a reason, there is a purpose to everything and I don't have a clue as to what purpose that hating her with such a passion has. Its so strong, so deep and so automatic that trying to figure out the reasons why are beyond my understanding. I don't want to HATE her, I am so sorry that the life that she had to have was so awful, and as awful as i know that it was I hate HER for it!!!! And in my logical brain I completely understand that doesn't make sense, but my heart, in the most special space, I loathe her for being her for being born into the family that she was. For being there when those things were happening. For picking out a shirt to wear to bed, for so many many things. I could go on and on and on and still give you reasons. But if you ask me reasons why I should love her; there would be silence. That is not fair. And saying that i understand that life isn't exactly fair, anyway that you look at it but this is big, this is huge ! THIS is my next step.
I don't know how to stop the hurting because I know that I don't want to hate her, but I don't know how not too. I never remember a time when I didn't hate, I never remember a time that I liked the little girl that she was. When she was pretty or cute, or loved. I know that I am going to have to learn to love her. And I even say that and it makes me sick to my stomach, but I am going to have to learn. I can't treat that part like it has been treated for many many years, like OK you can stop hurting me then i am just going to pick up where all those people left off and in my head I can understand that. But my heart, that is exactly what it is doing. I am continuing the same treatment just like them, and I have to stop. I read the words today that hit my heart hard : She was a victim not a participant. She was a victim not a participant. That is one of those statements that makes my world stop and I say it again. Little five year old me was a victim not a participant. And that's how I see her, that little girl I see participating in the things that were done.
My mind knows that its crazy insane to hate her, but my heart feels the hate to my core, and all of me knows that I don't want to. My next steps are figuring out the purpose in hating her so very much and then going from there. Someone always says it happened and it mattered ! And I want to believe that. I know what happened I see the pictures everyday like it was yesterday. If I keep hating her then I continue to say that it doesn't matter, she doesn't matter. If it mattered I believe that I would be treated different today, I believe that if it mattered people would not have been so cold and irresponsible. If it mattered people would have stood up for me and stopped it. If it mattered someone would have given me a hug and said they were sorry. If only it mattered, If what happened to her mattered then how in the world could I possibly hate her ?!?!
This is such a hard thing to understand to comprehend, to learn to live with. I fear that loving her will somehow make me fall apart to feel bad for her to be so sad that she missed out on so much. And I feel a little of that, but the hate takes over its so much stronger than the sorry. I think that its going to be a long process learning to love her little by little and I think realizing that in no way, in any world was she ever a participant in the things that happened to her. They happened to her , and she deserves the things that I would give any other child that had been through the same hell.
No comments:
Post a Comment