Dear Little Lost Girl
I stare at the little girl known and the woman unknown. Her story silenced, shamed by the words to let the past pass you by.Your too grown to be carrying around old shit. Memories flash and immediately reminded to hush and be strong. There are so many unanswered questions. So many wonders of why the challenges come. Why at the conception of life you’re chapter written to suffer more than smile. Damaged and broken by circumstances not created by you. Keeping your head up, in the toughest of battles, but mentally breaking down because you’ve contended with pain much too long.
The events that plagued you are the times you cried and your mother wasn’t there. So you listen, but still the memories don’t go away. The moments you prayed for a father who became absent at the blink of eye. Many of us waiting for apologetics unspoken when beatings were given for someone’s else wrongdoings. The what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but the damages remain for some at least.
Tears of the little girl, pours from the eyes of the woman wanting to heal all that ails her. The broken fragments show in ways we can’t speak because childhood trauma is often classified as adult drama. We can’t fix tree until we heal the root of the trauma we ignore.
Afraid to speak, afraid to love, afraid to pray because the unanswered prayers from a little girl leaves a sting of mistrust of our savior. How could he write so many ugly chapters for innocent girls.
Wanting. to mend the harmful. words spoken over her life. Fighting everyday to see past what she believes. Trying to be more than what she sees inside of herself. Yet, every setback and failure recites the same words unspoken she’ll never be good enough. Some stories are written differently for every woman, man and child. Some aches are not erase with affirmation, motivational quotes, some brokenness takes years of repair. Therapy helps but you want you want is the happily ever after you’ve been searching for.
Erase the moments of abandonment of being left alone . The rush of being an adult, never experiencing childhood. The moments you were less than by poverty. Trying to break generational curses that seem to keep chasing you. Trying to forgive so you can forget. Give grace and mercy to bring good luck . Giving so much of your self so to be liked and loved. It’s the little girl known and the woman unknown trying to rediscover herself. It is the woman trying break chains that bind her pain. Calling out to God praying after all these years he’ll listen and heal you.
