(As a kid and into adult life)
I created a story to feel safe (bc I didn’t)
about a perfect family (bc they weren’t)
It was necessary to get by (bc my brain wanted me to survive)
I used that created story to whip myself (rather than face deficit of support and broader terror that I was not safe)
It was easier than accepting the reality that I didn’t feel secure, for survival.
And that I can trust myself.
I wasn’t wrong.
I’m strong enough and safe enough now within my own self to see it.
They love me the best they can.
It doesn’t define me, or how I will love. It doesn’t define me!
Starting Anew! 