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Sometimes, I still feel like that child. That scared shitless kid hiding in a closet, hoping that all of this will end. Waiting for the yelling to stop and for the threat to go away. Hoping that this won't happen again. That I'll be okay and that I can just go about my life normally like I did before all of this began. Deep down, I'm still that 11 year old girl who feels the hope depleting from their spirit. Who feels the light drain from their life. She's still there. 

When most people look at me, they see a growing woman. Someone who's "going places" in life. And when I tell them I'm more destined to kill myself or end up a failure, they look at me like I'm a joke. Like I'm joking. Like what I'm saying is something to be laughed at. Like that's just "my sense of humor." 

I've spent a lot of time these past few years working to stop hating myself. I haven't done the best job. Some days I feel like I've made and others I want to throw myself off a building.  But I've tried endlessly to reconcile what I feel with who I am now. People will always tell you that you need to learn to love yourself. In order to love the rest of the world, in order to live a positive life...you have to love yourself. Or at least like yourself. What they don't tell you is you have to love every part of yourself. 

What I've done all these years is repress my 11 year old self. I didn't love her. I pushed her back into that closet and let her live in fear. I've let those horrible moments be her entire existence. That's the only life she's known so fear is the only thing I know everyday of my life. Anxiety. Sleepless nights. This endless cycle.

I need to unlock that closet. And let her out. Reconcile what she feels with the rest of myself. I hate her. I hate that scared, weak child. I blame her. For not being stronger or louder or faster. I blame her for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. In my mind, for years, she's been what ruined my life. 

That's not true. And I need to realize and reconcile the truth with who she is now. With who I am now. I'm someone who survived something awful. And I didn't fall into the woodwork. I didn't give up. I didn't become another at risk teen who couldn't make it. I didn't become another rape victim who kills herself-- though I have tried and sometimes consider it. I didn't become just another statistic for some report. I'm so much more than that. Every one of us is so much more than that. 

My life would just be another news story. Another thing that people forget about. Typical. Forgettable. But if I keep fighting I have the potential to change my life. To change the lives of others. To make an  impact. People will see me for who I am rather than what I was. For what happened to me. I'm more than that one moment in life...though it often does define much of my character. 

I'm a survivor. And whoever you are, most likely if you're reading this, so are you. I know things are hard. I know just how fucking painful all of this is-- even years later. It's hard. It's always going to be there. It's never going to be easy. But you have to love every part of yourself. You have to reconcile your emotions. Settle this inner turmoil. No matter what you have to do. 

I'm still trying. Still working. Don't let this give you the impression that I'm okay. That I'm healed. I'm still working on it. Still trying. Everyday. 

And if you need someone to talk to...if you need help...shoot me a message. I'm always here. For anyone who needs it. Even if I can't give the best advice or give any answers. I know that sometimes all you need is for someone to listen. 



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I understand.  And I'm so very proud of you.  As for the 11-year-old girl...she had courage.  Children as you know are limited because of size and circumstance...but look at your heart to help.  She was, is and always will be a strong girl.  OUr lives, our paths are lined by fire...fire too hot, fire sometimes out of control.  We are the strong...we can help the weak...now that we know this.  Not healed, not completely...may never be healed completely, but we have hope.  And, I hope, each other.  Thank you, Lane. -POM

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