"I just hope that I can make something beautiful grow from every bit of dirt that has been thrown at me." -Savannah Black

At 6 and 7 and 8, I took care of my 2 brothers and twin sisters while my mother laid passed out from a drug and alcohol filled sleep. Blacked out. Unable to be woken. I prepared baby bottles, the kind where you boiled water (on the stove) and placed the glass bottle in the hot pot of water to warm the milk. I changed diapers, I washed dishes (and even knew to dry a cast iron pan on the stove), I fed myself and babies, I bathed and clothed everyone and then I would sneak the phone (yes, this phone was connected to a cord) into another room to call my grandmother to pick me up for school, "but shhhh, don't tell mom, cause she'll be mad I called you."  I was an adult. I was a house manager of sorts. And then I sit and think about my kids, because this is the age I was. And I think how the fuck did I do it. Bad things have happened to me, unthinkable things. But, other worse things could have. I could have been kidnapped, I could have been hit by a car crossing a street, etc. How did I do these things? How did I learn how to do all these things by age 5 or 6. I couldn't imagine how my children (or many children) would fare.

I often say that I am a caretaker by nature and nurture. This is who I am. But I have spent way too much time caring for others and not for myself. And that is what I have to be working on. Me. Loving me, turning my compassion inward. I just don't know how. Not yet. It's not that I don't want to, I just forget. I haven't been doing it long enough to know what it feels like, long enough for it to be a routine, long enough to undo 36 years of putting everyone before me. This is going to take a lot of practice and missteps. But, I have hope, hope that it will become natural to take care of me. To listen to me. I have to.  I have survived everything else and I owe it to little Kristy. She and I, WE deserve it.

Do you know what it's like to be me? Let me let you in for just a moment. I just sat here for an hour, and typed out several different posts, all relevant to this post. They all didn't lead me here, they didn't seem to form real sentences, but this one did, so I went with it. But I still read through it and it's missing something. Something I am not able to get through. And I think this is what I missed,  I don't love me. I don't think I am deserving of love. Of others love, of my own love. Why? Because the people that were supposed to love and keep me safe, didn't, and then they left. My people left me. They allowed people to hurt me, abuse me, use me, and then they left me. I cleaned, I cooked, I bathed, I allowed my body to be used. I gave my little body to everyone, body, heart and soul, to everyone, and it wasn't enough. That was the first message in my life. The second message was that I wasn't grateful enough for that life. The man who told me that, that man, took from me, took more than anyone else ever has. And my mom let him. And I don't know why, but his voice is the one I hear always. It's constantly with me. Everything I do I hear how I am an ungrateful little bitch. An insignificant man, has the loudest voice. A man, who did bad things, a man who I should never allowed a place in my life. He probably doesn't remember me. Not that I want him to, just a point that I shouldn't give him as much space to it as I do, if any at all. I was just a kid, I was just wanting to be loved. And as an adult, that's what I connect with most. It's all I want. Someone, love me. I love you, please just love me. I have been trying to shut this voice up, but it won't go away. According to my therapist, it won't, if I continue to shut it up, it will only get louder. I have to go to the place, and I have to give little Kristy space and love and compassion. Sounds easy? It's not. I have protected that part of me for a very long time. Probably before I met this man. Probably since conception. I've been guilty my whole life. Guilty for existing. I didn't ask for any of this. Guilt, is my comfort. But it isn't serving me anymore and I must learn to correct the message. So here it is.

 Little Kristy, you are a little brave girl, you were just trying to survive and save everyone around you, doing all that you could to make sure everyone was safe, sacrificing all of yourself to do so. You were the bigger adult, you saved yourself and your family that day, all those days. Even the little girl that was with you, you saved her too. You are strong, and brave and loving.  You did nothing wrong. You did everything in your power to do what was right. And you succeeded in surviving, and keeping your family safe. You are a superhero, a warrior, an angel of sorts. I love you, little Kristy, for surviving, for taking care of me. It's okay now, we are safe now. We can grow, we can love and we are loved, and we will be loved. You can come out. It's safe. I got you.   

"If one stays too long in his shell he'll wind up nuts. And on that same note Sir, Nanu." -Mork