A letter to the first man that hurt me…

Dear “Barney Fife,”

I just to want to know why? Who looks at a little child and gets those thoughts in their head? Little children are like glass, not only do they shatter easy but they show every finger print when touched. Glass doesn’t talk, so unless people really look they may never know.  To a two year old a bed is only for sleeping, but I guess you taught me different. Maybe you didn’t think I would remember? But I remember, even though I wish I could forget all those memories. I remember too well, even down to the Miami Dolphins playing football on the tv. I think that is why to this day I hate football. I wish that was first and only time you ever did such a thing it would be easier to put behind me, I could just say it was a weak moment? I guess you took my silence as permission to continue. I wish you knew how every act not only took something from me, but it gave me something to…shame and guilt. Those are things I wish I could return because it’s something you should have not me! No matter how hard I try I can’t get rid of those feelings.

I trusted you and what you said that day, but they didn’t send you into that shower. What you did to me after on that bed is something I wish I never remembered. I bet you don’t know you were not the only one did you? I bet you don’t know that to this day I can’t say that word out loud!

I bet you don’t know I still smell your scent even at the weirdest times, like late at night, or while watching tv, or driving down the road all alone. Because of you I feel like I always have to watch my back, afraid someone will touch me, even innocently. Little do they know it reminds me of you sneaking up on me.

I bet you don’t know that because of what you and someone else did, I would beg God to let me get in an accident that would cause memory loss. I would tell God if he would just let me forget it, then everything would be ok. I use to wish my childhood and teenage years away.

I know every scar and wrinkle on your face, just like I know how many rows of blinds hang in your big window. I use to count both of them, just to focus on something else besides what was really going on.

I’m a quiet person, I think you made me that way. I was afraid the secret would crawl out my mouth into the ears of those around me, so I kept my mouth shut. All those years of silence have made my jaw rusty. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say because I do, if only people would listen. That person is slowly changing though, I’m starting to find my voice again.

For a while you turned me into someone I’m not normally… angry, bitter and hateful. I held so much anger inside of me for those twenty years, that I wouldn’t ever let myself feel it because I was afraid if I opened that door I would never close it again. I stuffed it down hoping it would go away, but it only grew stronger because it was never felt and let go of. I’m still to this day am afraid to let myself get really angry about what you’ve done. I became bitter toward a lot of people, people who didn’t deserve it. I had so much hate inside of me toward you at one time. It probably would have brought me joy to see you in physical pain, just like you brought me physical pain. I never let go of the hate, it just turned from me hating you, to me hating myself. Especially hating myself for feeling all those things.

In all honesty you were just down right mean, a bully. Every punch to the face and every back handed slap brought a deeper valley between us. You know they have a name for that kind of slap. No child should have to lock themselves in their room, to keep from feeling the sting of pain your words and hands bring.

It wasn’t until recently that I started to believe that it wasn’t my fault. Coming into that room wasn’t me asking for it. Every time since when I asked you to stop and you never listened.  I use to think I didn’t try hard enough to make you stop, but fear would keep me from fighting. One day I won’t be afraid of you anymore!

Trying to forgive you is one of the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do. It’s not as simple as to just say, “I forgive you” and then move on, but some days I have to forgive you over and over again. Trying to find that true forgiveness toward you has kept me on my knees before God begging him to help me! You don’t need my forgiveness to make it to heaven, but I need to have forgiveness towards you to make heaven my home, with God’s help I will find it. But you do need God’s forgiveness to make heaven your home and one day I hope you find it…the real deal. Not just some Sunday morning “church face”.

It still hurts, but I’ll be ok. You may have beaten me down a couple times, but I didn’t break!


8 thoughts on “A letter to the first man that hurt me…

  1. I led support groups for women that had been sexually abused as children for 12 years. Writing a letter to their abuser/s was one of the assignments. It wasn’t mailed but the healing that comes from it is tremendous. Thank you for sharing your letter and I pray the Lord uses it to help many others as I’m sure it helped you in writing it. Blessings to you as you continue your healing journey.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: “Pressed” – A letter to the first man that hurt me… | religioushistoricalresearch

  3. I am so sorry that this has happened to you. Your letter is awesome and I pray that it brings healing to you. I know that writing about your experiences are painful… but know that the secrets can no longer hurt you when they are no longer secrets. God bless you!

    Liked by 1 person

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