I hope you’re somewhere praying…

I didn’t know today would be the day. I didn’t think “today” would ever come.

But too much has happened that has precipitated “today”.

Too many things that have continuously been pinging off of me and around me to show me that today is the day I let this black balloon go. Once and for all.

The day I transform my spirit and take back my power.

Today is the day I say, “time’s up”.

There are no accidents in life. I believe that with the core of my soul. And while I don’t necessarily understand the reasons for the pain that has helped create me, I know that it is critical to who I am supposed to be.

A 10 year old girl doesn’t deserve pain. A 10 year old girl deserves to be cherished. To be shown a path of possibility and to understand that she is capable of anything that she sets her mind to. She deserves to learn lessons in self worth and to be taken care of by those who are supposed to be her protectors. Protectors of her light. Protectors of her heart. Protectors of her body.

No 10 year old girl should ever be made a victim of any kind. Because a 10 year old girl is the purest form of human decency. A pure heart. A clear mind. A child.

I have spent almost 35 years stuffing that little girl into my pockets. Creating laughter as a mask. Eating feelings to build physical armor. Avoiding pain by taking safe harbor in relationships that didn’t serve me because I felt wholly undeserving of true love and all that it encompasses.

The irony of his timing isn’t lost on me. The exact moment in time that I am ready to rise. Just as I feel ready to step forward into what is possible. And just like that, BAM, I am immediately that 10 year old little girl again with the receipt of one email titled……”shot in the dark”.

The week before Christmas? Are you fucking kidding me? The first Christmas I’m navigating without my dad? The first one I’m navigating as a single mom who has to split time on a holiday? Are those two things NOT enough? You think that after 30 years, NOW is the time to reach out just to let me know you really hope we can reconnect?

How about you go fuck yourself?

I digress…..

I did nothing. For 2 days. I marinated. I cried. I shook. I was furious. I was overwhelmed. I was surviving.

And then I sat down and I started writing. All the words. All the things that I want him to know right now. As a 44 year old woman who he broke as a 10 year old girl.

And then after I wrote those words I walked away from them. I focused on Christmas. One of the last of the firsts. I allowed myself to stuff it one more time so I could be present in what I needed to go through first.

And then Oprah received the Cecil B. DeMile award at the Golden Globes and said the words that put the last piece into it’s place.

“What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we have.”

It is only because of others speaking their truth that I now feel capable of speaking mine. The courage it took for them to say the words the first time. I’ve been in awe of that moment every time.

I share my words with you today because it is time. Time to rise. Time to heal. Time to face this day and know that I AM whole despite the sexual abuse that I survived as a 10 year old girl at the hand of my stepfather.

I have not yet decided if I will respond to his email. That is work I will continue to do with my therapist until I make the best decision necessary for me.

He is insignificant and does not matter in even the most minuscule of ways to my journey.

What does matter is this…..

Having the courage to say “This happened TO me, but it does not DEFINE me.”, allows me to no longer stuff it in my pockets, but release it. Forever.

I was a victim.

I am a survivor.

I will now THRIVE.

I am no longer willing to stuff anything in my pockets. I am no longer willing to make myself small in any regard. I will no longer create laughter at my own expense. I will not eat my feelings to create physical armor. I will no longer merely survive.

While I do not yet know if I will respond to him, these are the words. The ones every abuser deserves to read….

…You don’t get to reach out and want to know how I am. You don’t get to reach out and cause a stir of emotions within me that makes every single thing come back to the surface. You don’t get to be a part of my life or hear any of the amazing details that have transpired over the past 32 1/2 years. You don’t get to do any of that. So your shot in the dark is not an option.

Because children are vulnerable. And they are supposed to be loved unconditionally and cared for with extraordinary care. Their hearts and their bodies are for their parents to help grow into the best possible version of themselves they are capable of. Children are not supposed to ever know pain that is inflicted at the hands of the ones who are supposed to protect them. They are not supposed to have to manage or navigate anything EVER that causes them harm at the hand of those exact same people.

Children are naive. Children are tender. Children are fragile.

They do not deserve to live a life of compensation because of the disgusting choices made by those who were supposed to care for and protect them.

So you do not get the opportunity to hear anything about my life. You don’t get to hear about my children, my successes, or the beautiful life my parents have given to me. You don’t get to hear about the favorite places I’ve traveled to or the people I’ve met along the way who have made me a whole person.

You don’t get to see pictures, or delight in any single thing that may give you comfort or joy.

You get to marinate in the knowledge that you created a cesspool for me emotionally. A place that is dark and sharp and has caused me extraordinary pain that to this day I am trying to find a way through.

I work my ass off every single day to be whole. I do that for my children and for myself. I do that for the world I live in, and I do that because in spite of every shitty circumstance, I deserve a complete and beautiful life. A life that is free of pain. A life that is free of having to convince a little girl that she’s not damaged or disgusting because she was abused.

There isn’t a child on the planet that should ever have to navigate what abuse does to their soul. A permanent and lasting wound that never heals. That is what you’ve created in my life, and that is what the mere thought of you stirs. Disgust. Vile hatred.

I will continue to work my ass off to be whole. For myself. For my children. I will continue to find my way through that which I had no control of and didn’t deserve.

If you are reading this and you understand these words, please know that I have written them for you. I have written them for those who aren’t able to give a voice to the children they have stuffed into their pockets.

As the remarkable Maya Angelou once said, “A wise woman wishes to be no one’s enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone’s victim.”.

TIME’S. UP.