I’m going to tell you a story about a little girl.  It may be hard to read, but as with all dark things there also comes light.

My Story

There once was a little girl.  She was smart and precocious and independent.  She liked to do things for herself and was wildly adventurous.  She was always off on her own playing with toys or reading or building things or doing things.  She liked to play softball and tennis, roller skate and make forts.

When she was four or five she began playing next door. The elderly neighbor seemed kind and was kind.  He had everything a young girl would need to be entertained.  He had a swing in the garage, hopscotch in chalk on the sidewalk and tons of materials to build things and make things.  He gave her candy and payed attention and told her, “I would never do anything you didn’t want me to do”.

But, he did.

I won’t go into details, but let’s just say he did do things I didn’t want him to.  Only, I didn’t know I didn’t want him to do them because I didn’t know anything was really wrong.  To me, everything was part of the game and the fun.  He was my friend and he cared.  Didn’t he?

So, I kept going there day after day, week after week and year after year until the time came when I outgrew playthings and playtime.  But, maybe there was something about me that made me an easy target.  Or, maybe life just is what it is and this was the journey I was meant to take.

I don’t recall exactly when it started or if it all overlapped, but I think I was around eight.  My mother had gone back to work part-time and we were left alone sometimes.  School was only a block away and we were mature enough (apparently) to be on our own.

Regardless, my father’s friend started coming over the house on his lunch hour while my parents were away.  He wasn’t my friend, but he was an adult and as all good little girls I did what I was supposed to do.

This also went on for a number of years until one day I hit puberty.  I was about twelve and I suddenly realized what had been going on was not right.  I began avoiding him when he would come over until finally he went away.

The Trauma

What happened next can only be described as hell on earth.  Because the truth of all the abuse was too much to bear I blocked it all out.  Although I didn’t remember it in my mind I remembered it in my body and soul and from that point forward I became exceedingly angry, depressed, suicidal and utterly, incomprehensibly miserable.   I didn’t choose this.  It just happened.

I had nightmares men were trying to kill me with guns and that fires wanted to consume me in my bedroom.  All the fear and frustration and anger and disgust turned inward.  I hated myself and my parents and the very thought of living.

I ran away from home, I stole, I didn’t care about anything or anyone.  Every day that I woke up I wanted to die.   Every night when I went to sleep I wanted to die.

Although, I didn’t really want to die, what I wanted was for the pain to stop. Unfortunately, I didn’t even understand why I was in pain.

Eventually, not knowing what to do with me my parents sent me down south to live with my Aunt and Uncle.  By seventeen I had a full time job and apartment and was finishing high school.

As I started to live on my own the depression and hatred of myself diminished a little.  However, it was not gone, just hiding out for a while since I was too busy surviving to worry about it all.

Then came my first sexual experience at eighteen and it all came crashing back down upon me.  With that one act the memories began seeping back into my consciousness.  The guilt was overwhelming.  The sadness was incapacitating.

What Next?

From that moment forward, the best thing I could do to feel safe was to control everything.  Never again would a man have control over me.  Never again would I depend on anyone for anything.

Over the next twenty five years I did everything. I held down a full time job while attending school full time for eight years (college and law school).  For every boyfriend that I had (and my husband) I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, worked and took care of them financially.  I didn’t support them per-se, but I bore the brunt of everything.

Not only did I want to stay in control, but I wanted them to love me and I knew of no other way than to give.  That was my purpose, right?  Wasn’t I here to give men whatever they wanted and needed and disregard myself?  Obviously I didn’t consciously think these things, but my negative thoughts about myself and what I deserved perpetuated the cycle.

But, with every relationship breakdown I grew.  With every move to another city or another country I changed.  Every day I lived was another day I would become stronger. Eventually, I decided I was not going to be a victim and that I would take control of my life.

I read, I studied, I did workbooks, I cried and I went to a LOT of therapy.  I still kept giving and giving, but in the process I was slowly learning to have self-esteem, to forgive my abusers, to move past the pain and to forgive myself.

Lastly

So, here we are today.  It wasn’t long ago, seven months or so that I came to the final crossroads.  I had ended my latest relationship and realized I had done the same thing yet again. I gave and gave and gave and gave and although I knew I should be asking for something I didn’t know how.  I literally sat there staring at him now knowing what to say.

I couldn’t understand it.  I knew I deserved better.  I knew I was no doormat.  He wasn’t unkind.  But, here I was, yet again, settling.  Finally, I figured it out.  Although I had enough self-esteem what I was missing was self-love.

All the time I had thought they were the same thing, but they aren’t.  My next journey, which included launching my blog, was to learn to love and accept myself completely.  So, that is what I have been doing the last seven months.

I can’t say that I’m perfect.  I can’t say I don’t get sad or overwhelmed.  But, I can say that I worked really, really hard to release myself from those chains of self-hatred, doubt, fear, anger, depression and worthlessness.

I can say that today I am at peace with myself and my past.  I have hope for the future because it is a future that I am creating for myself.  No longer will my wants and needs be tied to someone else  and what they want and need to the detriment of myself.  When I am in my next relationship it will be give and take and not give, give give.

Finally, that little girl has learned to love herself.