When I was little,
I was taught I didn’t belong.
That I wasn’t good enough.
That love was something other people received,
not something meant for me
at least not from my dad.
When I Was a Young Teenager
When I was a young teenager,
I learned I was good enough for sex,
but not good enough for love.
I learned if I gave my body,
I might borrow love for a moment.
I learned I was easy to leave.
When I Was an Older Teenager
When I was an older teenager,
I learned no one would care
if I was touched against my will.
I learned survival meant
being hyper-aware, always bracing for impact
And when I was a teenager,
I met him.
When I Became an Adult
When I became an adult,
I tried to believe everyone had been wrong.
That I could be loved
without being hurt,
without being violated.
But I was taught young
that love and pain lived in the same house
and if the pain was smaller,
I should be grateful.
When I Turned 25 — When I Became a Mother
When I turned 25,
and became a mother,
I learned it wasn’t love.
It wasn’t rescue.
I learned I was a child
when we met.
And I learned I would never look at a 15-year-old
and call that love.
When I Was 27
When I was 27,
I learned new words:
manipulated.
Groomed.
I learned I wasn’t stupid
I was targeted.
I learned that if younger girls were available,
I was replaceable.
And I learned my story had more names than it ever should have.
Now I Am 29
Now I am 29,
and I grieve the life
I might have had
if safety had found me sooner.
I grieve the family,
the ease,
the version of love
that isn’t tangled in survival.
I am learning
love is not just sex.
I am grieving the intimacy
trauma tried to steal from me.
I love deeply.
I always have.
And even if trauma left stains,
stains are not the whole fabric.
I am still here.
I am still capable of love.
And I am still learning what love can be.
I’m not broken just bruised
#MentalHealth #TheMighty #Trauma
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