To the little lost girl within, Let me love you

As I do most mornings while sipping my coffee, I was scrolling my Facebook feed. This morning my attention was drawn to the following post. I think I was initially drawn to the calming properties of the blue hues, but then I read the words and found myself nodding internally.

It says, “Agreeing to things just to keep the peace is actually a trauma response. When you do this you’re disrespecting your boundaries. No more making yourself uncomfortable for others to feel comfortable. You have control now. You run your life. Take up space and use your voice.” attributed to DJ Love Light and watermarked

How many of us do this? Agree to things just to keep the peace?

I’ve been doing it for such a long time that I’ve always just thought it was who I am. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just a coping mechanism that I picked up at such a young age and have been doing for such a long time that it just *feels* like an extension of my self. Because I don’t really know any other way.

It’s a mask, like so many other trauma-based responses, that hides and protects us.

Or so we believe.

Until we wake up one day and realize how much pain and emotional struggle this supposedly protective response has actually caused us–internally.

I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, this particular response (and so many others) has left me believing that I don’t matter. That my thoughts don’t matter. My feelings don’t matter. That everyone else is more important than I am. I’ve made myself small and insignificant for the benefit of others while pushing and shoving back anything that is uniquely me. So often and for so long that I sit here today not even truly sure who the hell I am.

I catch glimpses of the girl I could be here and there, but I don’t ever seem to be able to reach out to her. She’s there, for a nanosecond in time, but when I realize it’s her and reach out to invite her to join me, she’s gone. There are days when I mourn her loss, though I never really knew her at all. What I want most is to love her. And what I’m truly mourning I think, is my failure and inability to truly see her, acknowledge her, console her, wrap her up in my arms and love her, encourage her, and help her grow to see safety in the world around her so that she can become the best she can be.

So she continues to run and hide, even after all these years, because she’s convinced it will never be safe out here and that she doesn’t deserve any better.


M.A.Young is driven by her love of words, passionate pursuit of knowledge, and desire for a more inclusive and accepting world. A survivor of childhood sexual abuse, she struggles daily with mental health issues including generalized and social anxiety, C-PTSD, depression, and self-worth.

She is the sole contributer to and founder of AnnotherVoice, a relatively unfocused blog originally created as a sounding board for the myriad of thoughts running through her mind. Her writing runs the gamut from fiction and poetry to current events and politics. She strongly encourages everyone to pay attention to the world around them and to vote!

M.A.Young has 176 posts and counting. See all posts by M.A.Young

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