Little Girl

You hear about those who have been through trauma of any sort splitting off part of themselves. To preserve and protect. To survive. The little kid hiding behind the couch as they hear parents fighting; fists slamming, guns shooting. The soldier forced to kill a child who is a threat to their safety and the safety of their platoon. Sometimes for lesser, seemingly insignificant reasons to the outside, other times for more heinous reasons than any of us can imagine. They preserve and protect in the moment or season, then spend the rest of their lives trying to get back to that little boy or girl, that innocent man or woman who would never hurt a child. 

The problem I have come across is this - - What if i know that little girl very well? The one that keeps people at a distance. That tells me I am worthless and should never be alive. The one who became so tough that no one would be able to break her. The one who kept me alive when all else would fail and harm me. I have worked to nurture and forgive her. I have given her my time and attention. BUT STILL . . .

What if there is another little girl that died so long ago . . . another little girl that I have been unable to see all along. All of the counseling and soul searching. All of the drinking and drugging. None of that helped me to find this girl. To SEE her. I am comfortable with the tough little girl who protected me at all costs. I have done all that I could to integrate her into a healthy adult life but after all of these years i saw deeper into the corner of the dark closet of my soul to see there is another piece of me. Another little girl who was locked away. Maybe by me, maybe by those around me but so deep into the recesses I couldn’t have even imagined that she existed let alone know to go look for her.

This little girl is likely the same age as the little 5 year old with a scowl. The first locked away to protect me . . . the second to protect her . . . Joy and content, peace and happiness, childlike play . . . a smile from ear to ear . . . this is the little girl that I couldn't find. She learned it wasn't okay to be excited about things. She learned there was no such thing as fun. Any positive feelings or emotions were definitely not okay. Or maybe more appropriately put . . . I learned that. And as a protection for herself, she retreated into the far recesses of my being to not allow those things to be stolen.

I am sorry little girl for not knowing that you were gone before now. For not thinking to look for you. For not realizing that protecting and hiding you no longer served me. For not noticing how important you were to me then and are to me now. Be patient with me as i try to befriend you. As i cautiously approach for both your protection and mine. Maybe slowly as first and more quickly as time progresses we can find places and times to run in fields of flowers and swing so high we might leave planet earth. While the future is unknown and overwhelming the hope of joy that comes with your face is one I look forward to finding.