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I’ve been given permission to share this letter that a childhood sexual abuse survivor wrote to her little self. It’s so beautiful, so poignant, that I wanted you to see it.
If I had written your story little one, there would be so much you wouldn’t know. I would’ve written your story with lavender ink or maybe periwinkle. It would be written in the color of delight. It would be a story that smelled like the forest, set along the icy rivers where the sunlight catches the ripples and creates diamonds. It would be like the bright snowy days when the cold air and clear sun mix to emit sparks of dust-like magic. Safe like Camas with Betty.
Story - Warmth - Safety - Touch - Hand
If I had written your story you would have only known warmth and safety. I would’ve written it so that touch meant a hand upon your head in the warm sunshine. Or perhaps I would’ve even written it to wrap you regularly in arms that felt like they were made just for you, and never made it hard to breathe or caused you pain.
The story would’ve given you a hand to hold, and large hands would never be frightening, never looming, never fisted, never painful.
Colors - Senses - World - Discovery - Eyes
Little one, I would have woven the rich and tangible colors of your senses into your own world of discovery. Your eyes would only have looked upon images that made you feel the joy on the page as your own. Like a brightly printed picture book, and not an ugly reflection. Your eyes, little one, would be shielded from images that made you question your value and flooded your soul with shame.
When I wrote your...
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