I’m finally giving her a voice.

I kept her hidden for a long time, it was just easier that way. Not having to feel, not having to think, not having to admit. It hurt too much. Giving her a voice meant I had to face the truth. Truth hurts. Giving her a voice meant I had to feel. Feeling is hard. I kept her in hiding so long that I forgot she was even there. I forgot who she was, what she liked, what she wanted, what made her happy, what made her safe…I forgot it all. I forgot her.

Until one day, she broke free.

For a split second she revealed herself and all of her fears came to the surface. She was scared. Everything seemed to be different. Everything seemed to be out of control. Everything seemed to be overwhelming. I didn’t understand. Why was everything changing? When her silence broke, she surfaced, and I saw her.

I saw me as a little girl.

I saw what I endured. I saw what I faced. I saw a face full of questions. I saw a face full of strength. I saw a determined little girl made to survive even if it meant taking care of everyone around her. I saw a little girl who was always happy, because sadness had no place. I saw a girl with strength and determination to set the rules because it brought in order and control. I saw a little girl without stability, so she insisted she create her own. I saw a little girl with a will to fight because she refused any other option.

When I saw her, I saw my daughter.

I saw my daughter through eyes I never knew I had. Eyes full of fear. Eyes full of questions. Eyes full of anxiousness. Eyes full of sadness. Eyes that felt so deeply the need for change. Eyes that wanted different. Eyes that desired freedom.

There began my fight. 

The fight for that little girl to be seen. The fight for that little girl to be heard. The fight for that little girl to be loved without expectation. The fight for that little girl’s childhood. The fight for that little girl’s voice.

Some where along the line of walking through abuse, I lost my voice.

I learned to ignore myself in order to survive circumstances. The voice of that little girl had no place to speak, or else she would not survive. The little girl had no room to feel, or else she would not survive. The little girl had no place to be a little girl.

Then I had my little girl.

When I had my little girl everything came full circle. The fight was right in front of me. The fight for her. The fight for her voice. The fight for her freedom. The fight for her change. The fight for her life. The fight for her childhood.

To fight for her, I had to fight for me.

So I gave myself a voice. I allowed myself to speak. I allowed myself to share. I allowed myself to heal. I allowed myself to grieve. I allowed myself to learn. I allowed myself to let go of control…and just be. I allowed myself to be a little girl once more.

I gave myself a voice.

Where there is a voice, there is freedom. There is power in sharing your story. There is power in giving the victim a voice. There is power in giving yourself the chance to fight. There is power for you to change the story.

Fight with me. Give yourself a voice. Change the story.