I traded fragments of myself for scraps of affection…
As I sit here, putting down words…. words that have long been buried… Truths I have avoided….
I need you to understand the raw, unfiltered honesty of how my journey from girlhood to womanhood has been a voyage marked by scars and demons I've fought within myself.
I don’t know when the subtle shift from innocence to twisted perception of self-love happened. It's like a fog that crept in silently until I couldn't see myself clearly anymore.
I don’t know if it was one specific choice… or a series of choices…
I’m not sure if it was one turn left when I should’ve gone right…
or maybe it was multiple wrong turns…
a revolving door of “flippin a bitch”… or ignoring speed limits and do not enter signs…
Maybe… maybe not.
But it happened….
and it changed me…
…..
As a girl, I think I was filled with dreams, aspirations, and a sense of wonder about the world…
what happened to her?
somewhere along the way that girl disappeared...
slowly fading…
she left me or I left her… I’m not sure.
In her place sat someone who measured her worth through the eyes of others..
Through the eyes of men.
My self-love morphed into something dark and shallow… something dictated by external validation… by fleeting moments of intimacy that left me emptier than before.
At some point I found everything in nothing. I had a heaping pile of secrets and lies, and I called it love. All the while my whole life passed me by… I was frozen in time… holding my breath… a statue waiting for something that would never be… Longing for stolen moments in hotel hallways and coat closets…I told myself they all added up to something real, because in my mind they had to, but they didnt... they couldn’t… they wouldn’t… They won't. They never will.
I grew to believe that my worth lay solely in my sexuality… in the way my body could ignite desire in others…
It was all I had to offer..
It became my currency…
my bargaining chip in a world where I felt powerless...
I traded fragments of myself for scraps of affection…
Do you have any idea what that does to a person?
confusing lust for love…
Knowing only the comfort of a body next to yours in the darkness of night…
A body… not a person…
At one point that was comforting… but again, at some point the loneliness of being alone but not being alone hurt more than just being…………………….. alone…
settling for crumbs of attention...
we’ve all done it…
Lied to ourselves..
Trading authenticity for acceptance…
sacrificing the tiniest parts of ourselves along the way…
…
Whispered lies of being unlovable… being unwanted, echoed through me…
It became the foundation upon which my distorted self-image was built, reinforcing the belief that I was inherently flawed, irreparably broken.
I allowed myself to be seen only as something to be used…
my value found solely in my body… not for the complexities of my soul..
it was numbing...
I was numb,
It stripped away layers of my humanity until I was nothing…
nothing but a vessel for the desires of others… for their pleasure.. their validation… their fleeting affection.
this was the price I had to pay for love, for acceptance, for belonging.
And yet, despite the emptiness that gnawed at my core, I allowed it to consume me.
I convinced myself that this was all I deserved…
I wish I could blame someone else… anyone else..
I wish I could tell you I haven’t done horrible things…
I wish I could tell you I haven’t broken up families…
I wish I could tell you that NO.. not more than 1 of the married men you sit next to every Sunday hasn’t proposition me..
I wish I could tell you that husbands of close friends haven’t crossed the line…
I wish I could tell you that husbands of family members haven’t crossed the line…
I wish I could tell you that I’ve never crossed the line…
I wish I could tell you that none of those things ever excited me…
I wish I could tell you I never slept with a boss and his wife…
I wish I could tell you that ever time I slept with someone was because I wanted to…
I wish I could tell you I’ve never had an abortion…
I wish I could tell you it doesn’t hurt…
I wish I could tell you I love myself…
I wish I could tell you this was on everyone else… men/people shouldn’t see me in this way…
I wish I could tell you I wasn’t the one that allowed it to happen…
I wish I could tell you… so. many. things.
…
…
Hollow.
Empty.
Numb.
Discarded.
Betrayal.
Inadequacy.
…
…
fading memories and fractured pieces of my heart…
…
I wish I could tell you that I've found a way to unravel the tangled mess of my self-worth, to reclaim the girl I once was and embrace the woman I'm meant to be. It's a journey fraught with setbacks and doubts… with moments of complete clarity overshadowed by waves of self-doubt.
I am no longer that woman..
amidst the chaos, there is a voice that whispers…
however faintly…
that I am more than the sum of my parts… more than the scars that adorn my skin… and more than the shadows that haunt my past…
So, I'm writing this letter not as a declaration of defeat, but as a testament to courage, my willingness to confront the demons that have held me captive for far too long. I may not have all the answers, but I'm determined to keep searching, to keep fighting, until I find the love and acceptance I've always deserved… from myself.
With all my flawed, imperfect heart.