Safe Or Unsafe?

How children are sometimes shaped by adults

Grade Primary, Sorrowful Wasn't I?

When you feel a child inside of you springing to life, that's how you know you're where you should be. C. JoyBell C.

The crux, as children, we have little say, and we cannot control the people raising us. We have to bide our time and do our best to not let the bad dominant our lives. That requires maturity, patience, resilience, a plan or strategy to get involved in school, extracurricular, or sports, and to find good friends who have their head in the right place. An adult advocate or support would also help navigate wild riptides. Who we hang with can determine our futures, so surround yourself with good , caring friends.

Don't run. Adapt. Those who run away are running from something or someone, and escape can be dangerous if in the wrong places. You are worth more than setting yourself up for a life of drugs or booze.

It warms my heart that we have sponsors, organizations, and groups building homes for those who have less. And I would wager that most people who get addicted to drugs, alcohol, gambling, sex, or work are struggling with some inner affliction they have not faced because the journey within is too painful. I am not a therapist, so sift from it what you will. Find your inner self and be charitable. No critical voices.

When life cuts us in two, we have a choice. Wilt and turn to unsavoury methods of coping, or become stronger by growing and learning from the pain and suffering, and doing something beneficial with it. My dad turned to alcohol, and it was no joyride living with a violent drunk. I believe our purpose is to share our lives with others so that we learn, grow, and stretch our minds with the help of multiple viewpoints, opinions, and lived experiences. But sometimes the road is a bumpy, dangerous one, and we need a mentor.

By revealing intimate details in a safe place, we create trust and connections that peel off the layers of pain, allowing us to be authentically ourselves. But for that to occur, we need someone to trust and that person or place can be difficult to find.

She--the little girl in me, searched and searched during her childhood and teen years but she did not feel safe anywhere or with anyone, and so she retreated inward, farther and farther away from the world, leaving but a fragment of her true spirit.

The pain of being authentically herself and continuously shot down, or punished, kept her tied in knots, as she tried to survive, a ghost wearing pale skin clothing, her light extinguished so no one would find her. So she always did her best and excelled to hide the feelings of worthlessness underneath.

She curled tighter and tighter into a fetus to protect herself from the slings, arrows, and abuse that comes from dysfunction, alcoholism, and the seedier sides of people. The outside of her had to be strong, perfect, and capable.

With purpose, she rose to the top, seemingly confident, a disguise so others would not guess they destroyed her inside and she could not develop into her true self. The risk of rejection was simply too great.

Seriousness became her mantra; sad eyes, her countenance. Referred to as the strong silent type, she observed and held back, afraid unless prepared. She blushed if anyone spoke her name, and tears watered her eyes as she turned vermillion red.

Sadly, she tried to duck to avoid conversations, hid until she discovered if people outside the family noticed her for an accomplishment, then she had a chance at 'being good enough'. Born into a family of six girls and two boys, both boys tragically killed, she could never measure up unless she had the same anatomy.

No matter how much she tried, she was forever scared to reveal her true nature. Times she tried to sing around the house as that was a gift and she loved singing, but, “If you sing at the table you will cry before night.” Glimpses of her spirit surfaced at such times only to duck back in, and scurry away for fear of retaliation, blood-red anger and the snapping of the big, black, leather belt.

The shadow of her excelled academically, first in her family to go off to university, on scholarships, yet she could not find her voice with everything else stripped away. Give her committees, she could perform; in organizations, she reached the top; causes, she promoted; speeches, she could give; but inside the slightly breathing remains of a precocious, mischievous little girl begged to be released; if only she could find a safe place.

A kind, nurturing hand reached out, no judgment, no parameters, no expectations. The little girl within felt a gentle nudge. And she cried, only this time they were tears of joy. It felt warm and comforting. A soft voice urged her to uncurl, to stretch, and come out to play, but she was too scared, yet the stretching felt good.

Next, the sage voice invited her to remove parasites, and monsters under the bed. It too felt good as the weight of terror and control dissipated. Trembling, she felt joy in the movement, and remembered being silly, and playing a long, long time ago. For the first time in decades she smiled, her lips curling upwards. She had forgotten the joy in a smile and so she offered one to everyone else in case they needed it.

Ever so slowly, helping hands reached the shadow and invited her for a stroll in the sunshine, but even as the years turned, she was timid. Time sped up as it always does with age, and a yearning to be more playful, less serious, and more relaxed burned within the little girl. She wanted to come out to play but...

Will she ever feel safe enough to just be silly, to relax and have fun?

All children are roses in November!

Does your little person feel safe, really safe? It is a question many of us ask. This little girl is still trying.

Share when and how your inner self gained strength to come out.