Dear Me,
I don’t really know how to start this letter. I feel so many things—scared, confused, even kind of ashamed—but mostly, I just feel tired. Tired of hiding what happened, tired of all the lies I’ve believed about myself. It’s time to let go of all that and face the truth. So, here’s my letter to me—a promise to stop believing the things that have kept me stuck, and to start believing in the things that will help me heal.
I used to think that abuse only happens to girls like me. That maybe if I was stronger, if I was smarter, or if I had done something differently, it wouldn’t have happened. But now, I know that isn’t true. I’m not the only one this happens to, and I’m not the only one who’s hurt. My experience is real, and it matters, no matter what anyone else says.
For a long time, I thought I must have done something to deserve it, like maybe I provoked it in some way. But I know now, deep in my heart, that it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it, and nothing I did could have made it okay. The person who hurt me is the one who’s responsible, not me. I need to remind myself that it wasn’t my fault.
When it happened, I didn’t fight back. I froze. I didn’t know what to do. For so long, I thought that meant it wasn’t really abuse, but now I get it: freezing is normal. It’s what happens when you’re scared out of your mind, when you don’t know what’s going to happen next. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t fight back. It still counts. The abuse was real, no matter how I reacted.
I also thought that if I didn’t report it right away, if I didn’t scream for help, then it wasn’t real. But staying quiet wasn’t because it wasn’t abuse—it was because I was scared. I was confused, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t need to speak up immediately for it to be real. It’s okay that I didn’t. I can speak up when I’m ready, and I deserve time to heal at my own pace.
For a long time, I believed that if it wasn’t violent, it wasn’t serious. But now I know abuse isn’t just about what happens on the outside. It’s not just bruises or cuts. It’s about what happens inside—what the hurt does to your heart and mind. That pain is real, even if it doesn’t show up on my skin.
I’ve also told myself for so long that I’m not allowed to show how I feel. Like if I didn’t cry or if I seemed fine on the outside, then maybe it wasn’t that bad. But I don’t have to wear my pain for everyone to see it. My healing is mine to control. Just because I don’t show my pain all the time doesn’t mean I’m not hurting. And it doesn’t mean I’m not healing, even if it doesn’t look the way other people expect it to.
I believed that once something like this happens to you, you can never move on. But that’s not true. I can heal. The hurt doesn’t have to follow me forever. It’s going to take time, but with help, I can get there. Healing is a journey, and it’s one I can walk at my own pace.
I also thought that maybe the abuse was just about sex, but now I know that it wasn’t. It was about control. It wasn’t about love or desire; it was about someone trying to take something from me—my trust, my body, my sense of safety. And I didn’t deserve that. What happened to me wasn’t about me being “wanted.” It was about someone else using me for their own reasons, and that’s not my fault.
For so long, I told myself that if I didn’t remember everything, it meant I couldn’t heal. That if I didn’t know all the details, I’d never get over it. But I’ve learned that I don’t need to remember everything. The healing isn’t about getting all the facts right or remembering every little thing. It’s about feeling safe again, about learning to trust myself again. I can heal, even without knowing everything.
I used to think that if I didn’t speak up right away, I’d never be able to. But it’s not true. It’s never too late to ask for help, to speak up, or to start healing. My voice is valid, even if I waited. I can choose when to speak, and I don’t have to feel rushed or pressured.
I used to believe that the hurt would make me broken, that I would never be the same again. But I’m not broken. I am hurt, but I am not destroyed. I can rebuild. I will rebuild. The abuse doesn’t define me, and it doesn’t have to hold me back forever. I can heal. I can live. I can be whole again.
And so, I’m telling myself this: It wasn’t my fault. I’m not damaged. I deserve peace. I deserve to heal. I deserve love, safety, and the chance to live my life. I’m going to let go of all the things I’ve been carrying. I’m going to stop believing the lies that have kept me from moving forward. And I’m going to start believing in myself—because I am strong, and I am worthy of healing.
With love, strength, and resilience,
Me
“Giving Every Mind Service”