Dear young one,
I wish I could wrap my arms around you and hold you tightly. Your life has been turned upside down, and you’re navigating a reality that no child should ever face. You’ve experienced violations that are beyond comprehension, and it pains me to know that you feel so utterly lost. You’ve been hurt, not just once but repeatedly, and no child should have to endure that alone.
I can picture you on that fateful day, returning home, filled with confusion and fear. It breaks my heart to realize you couldn’t share this with your parents. No child should carry such a burden by themselves. This is a weight I still carry, a lingering disappointment in our mother for not being the support you desperately needed.
There must be a reason you felt unable to confide in her about such a life-altering experience. If it were my child in your shoes (and tragically, it has been), I would feel like a failure if they didn’t feel safe coming to me.
That day marked the beginning of a tumultuous journey. I remember how long it took for you to fall asleep, replaying the horrifying events in your mind. You wondered if it was normal for a “doctor” to examine you in a dimly lit cellar and questioned why he threatened you if you were to speak out.
You couldn’t grasp the enormity of what had occurred. How could you? The concept of sex was foreign to you, yet the discomfort in your stomach and the pain during urination signaled that something was horrifically wrong.
What hurts me most is knowing you were left to navigate this overwhelming experience all alone, with no one to tell you it wasn’t your fault. I wish I could sit beside you on your bed, stroking your hair and holding you close, providing you with the safety you were denied. I want to be the mother you needed at that moment.
Because you felt unable to speak out, your pain manifested in various ways. It pains me to see you acting out, trying to release the confusion and turmoil inside. I wish I could reach our mother and open her eyes to see your behavior as a desperate plea for help. Instead of comfort, you received discipline and scorn, sometimes even punishment.
Fate cruelly decided you would endure more suffering. Soon after, someone who was meant to protect you shattered that trust yet again.
Your belief in humanity suffered a profound blow. Your adult self continues to grapple with the consequences. Did he realize the long-lasting impact of his actions?
I can see you replaying that scene in your mind, questioning if what happened was typical behavior for fathers. I wish I could assure you that not all fathers behave that way and that he was undeniably wrong.
At twelve, while your peers were immersed in typical childhood activities, you sought to understand the nature of touching. Sadly, in our environment, sex was a taboo subject, only discussed after marriage. This lack of healthy dialogue may have fueled your quest for knowledge. The internet was still in its infancy, leaving you to dive into books that contained graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. I’m truly sorry for that.
Dear younger self, I wish someone had been there to deliver these truths to you when you needed them most. I apologize for being too late, but it’s vital that you hear this now.
You are not to blame. You are incredibly brave. My heart, as a mother now, recognizes the strength it took for you to continue living without falling apart. I want to hug you tightly, whispering, “It will be okay, my dear,” because no adult was there to comfort you.
I’m sorry I can’t speak on behalf of those who should have—our mother, for instance—who ought to say, “I’m sorry I didn’t see what was happening right in front of me.”
I am proud of you. I’m proud that you are still standing strong today, that you didn’t allow your past to break you. I’m proud you sought the help you deserved years ago. I’m proud of the beautiful family you created.
It breaks my heart that your son faced similar challenges, but I’m immensely proud of how he trusted you enough to share his experience and how you handled it. I only wish you could have had a mother like you.
I hope these words aid your healing journey and help release the burdens of the past. I’ve tried to give you some of what you truly deserve. I know it may never be enough.
With all my love, I’m here, and I’m sorry.