Dear Little Girl in the Attic:
I know you've been there a long time. I know why you're there. You were sexually abused by a family member and you did what everybody tells you you are supposed to do; you told. You told the truth. After it happened, you went for a walk, and even though you felt a little sick to your stomach, you were encouraged by your strength because in your child like mind, when you tell on people who do bad things, they get in trouble.
That didn't happen.
He warned you that you would pay for telling, and for other things that he turned into rule breaking to support what he was planning on doing.
So...you hid in the attic (ADULT LIFE: Claustrophobia). It seemed like months, but I think it was only a few weeks for you. You would listen to hear if a lot of people were in the house. You'd be so happy to hear more than one voice, because you felt protected by the other bodies walking around. You'd hear the engine of cars roaring one at a time in the summer; a sign that people were leaving for appointments and for work. You'd see your older brother leave, and a sinking feeling would come to your stomach. For some reason, your older brother gave you a lot of comfort.
Then you'd wait when you knew you were alone. You wouldn't even breath loudly because you didn't want to be heard by that monster. You'd hear footsteps, and whenever they would stop, you would hope to God that it wouldn't be a moment of contemplation; "Oh that's right...It told her I was gonna get her." The anxiety was so thick outside of you, that you could serve it on a platter and people could see it and name it (ADULT LIFE: Generalized Anxiety Disorder). You'd start to sweat, and hyperventilate and then would sit down and try to breathe (ADULT LIFE: PTSD-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
When you heard the door open and close, you had a little bit of comfort, but you had to see him leave. You'd see him leave and you'd watch to make sure that the car wouldn't come back. And then you would just cry and cry and cry. That cycle would repeat itself over and over again.
It seemed like forever, but the day finally came when the door to the attic opened and the voice said to come downstairs.
You came downstairs, and then you were told to take off everything you had. You did. And sat there cold and shaking.
Without going into detail, the hour of brutality you experienced is something that no one else could ever believe. It would be the moment where you'd ask God to kill you. The moment where even if you hadn't died, you felt like your life was over. At least out of kindness, he let you take a break, before he continued again and listened to you scream. You'd walk around with those scars and bruises for weeks and didn't tell a soul what happened.
After it was over, you were crying and putting your clothing back on, and you said to him "I'm sorry for what I did. I guess I deserved this." (ADULT LIFE: Shame and self esteem issues).
Little girl in the attic, your life would be forever impacted by that moment. You wouldn't tell anyone about that until you were a teenager, when you were asked if maybe you enticed your abuser the first time.
This is the first time I have written about what I witnessed and experienced when I saw you go through this, looking outside of myself. Boy it seemed like you had nowhere to go. Like this is what your life was meant for - dysfunction, despair, being beaten down by people and society, not believed, told that you're too dramatic, not listened to or acknowledged, gaslit.
I'm here to tell you today little girl, it's not true. And I gotchu.
You are worthy. You did not deserve what happened to you. You don't deserve what is happening to you now. But I want you to know that I totally have you.
When you look out of that window, see me. See me waving at you. See me smiling at you. See me screaming how proud I am of you. See me hugging you. See me running to the house to grab you and hold you tight and rescue you.
You get scared in closed places. You still have shame. You are hypervigilant. And you still have times that are terribly frightening. But you've got so much now in terms of how you deal with it.
He couldn't beat that strength out of you. He couldn't beat that perseverance out of you. He couldn't take your resilience from you. He couldn't take your significance.
And more than anything, he will never, ever, ever, take your voice. Because now I speak for you.
Little girl in the attic. Let's come downstairs together. Let's leave this house together. And let's live the life we were meant to live. I love you:)
Love, Grown Up Big Girl From the Attic
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