Growth

She cries a lot, begging to be seen. She's been through a lot already.

She's about 4, clad in overalls and pigtails with those ribbons from the 80s. She's curious, compassionate and concerned. Her everyday life is one that can change in an instant and she's afraid that it will. There is a tiny crease in her forehead from constant worry.

She's vulnerable and she hates it.

She needs to be strong and helpful and make everyone else happy. She doesn't know yet that it isn't fair to have that kind of responsibility. One of her first memories is comforting an adult.

She learns how to comfort herself with drugs, alcohol and food. She gets depression. She battles suicidal thoughts. She smiles and is compassionate and kind the whole time. No one knows. They don't see her. She can't see it either.

Nothing makes sense. Down is up, left is right, nothing is everything. She goes into therapy.

She's vulnerable again. She's that 4 year old in pigtails, begging to be seen.  She doesn't know how hard it will be. How being seen feels like being burned. It feels permanent, like scars being made. It hurts and she cries a lot.

As she grows, she desperately tries to remember there is strength in vulnerability and power in understanding. It's hard. But she fights. She allows herself to be seen from within first. She comforts herself with care and relies on the few that know how to see her.

She still cries a lot, but they are healing tears.  She's been through a lot.