Little Girl

Whenever I see parents with their children, I can't help but watch them. Today at the coffee shop I saw a woman and her daughter (who looked to be three or four). The little girl was looking at some posters and the woman was bent down looking with her. She brushed her daughter's hair back and kissed her on the head.

It's moments like this that make me the saddest. I imagine what their lives must be like. I imagine the parents reading to their daughter at night. I imagine her playing and doing something funny and the parents laughing with her. These moments make my soul ache with a longing so strong I have to fight the urge to cry. But sometimes I also smile, knowing that there are actually parents who love and care for their children.

Sometimes I still get pissed off at the unfairness of it all. The "I love you"s I didn't get. The "I'm so proud of you"s I never heard. Most of all, the unfairness of missing out on my childhood. Hugs and kisses without the uncomfortable feelings and hating the way your father's beard feels on your face. Getting to be carefree and play without worrying about being "too loud." Being allowed to wear makeup and be a normal teen. Not having a huge ball of nausea-inducing anxiety in your stomach every day because you never know what's coming next. Not seeing your siblings cry after they did something "wrong" and your dad has to teach them a lesson. Being able to just relax and let your guard down. Not being hyper-vigilant even as a child.

I think about these things I missed out on and it hurts so much. When I think about them, that's when I slide back into the worst thoughts. "I wasn't deserving of love" or "It was my fault they didn't care about me." I am proud of myself for being able to (most of the time) remember that how they treated me is all on them, not me.

Society says that since others have it worse, we don't have the right to feel bad or sad. I say fuck that. Are there people who have it worse? Yes. But trauma is trauma no matter how you slice it.

Sometimes I feel like I should be over all this by now...that it's stupid to be a 30-year-old still longing for her parents to just be normal parents. When I think about it, it's not 30-year-old me that's longing for my parents. It's that scared little girl crying out for love and a chance to have a normal life.

From now on when I see parents with their children, I'll try to remember that that little girl inside is just as deserving of love as those children. And I'll show her because I'm all she has.