My ride to freedom

In the backseat of a tiny silver car sat a little girl. No older than seven years of age. Her curly hair was blowing gently with the wind and her hazel eyes were focused on the sun setting down after a day that felt like an eternity.

Her mother drove the car. Safe and quietly. Listening to the radio as they made a long journey home. It was a day as normal as you could ask for. Perhaps it was the calm and sweet comfort of being so far away; maybe it was the warmth of the sun or even the prolonged silence that gave the shy little girl courage to speak up.

Of all the things her mother imagined nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to listen to. As the words she was about to hear from her daughter could only belong to one of her worst nightmares. There was no way that was happening in real life. Not to her daughter. That could only be a lie. An extremely horrendous joke.

Unfortunately, it was not and as she listened to those tremendous events and tried to grasp what had been done to her precious child, she sobbed quietly on the front seat of the car never stopping her drive back home.

In a mixture of happiness and sadness the little girl realised she was right all along. The things that were being done to her were not normal. They were certainly not alright. Finally, she had proven the monster wrong. She told her mother and she believed in her. She didn’t get mad. She didn’t say it was a lie. She didn’t ignore it nor let it be. After all she could finally be set free.

As the weight of the world fell off her shoulders, she was finally able to sleep on the backseat of the silver shining car not being scared of what the future would bring anymore.

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This was a little story on how I first told my mother I was being abused when I was just a small child. It’s the first time I’ve ever wrote about it like this. I’m sorry if this is a little too much and also a bit confusing to read.

I feel that in all journeys towards change it is important to revisit events that might have structured the way you are, think, and act. Looking at stories that impacted us greatly (including our traumas) through different perspectives and lenses is hard. You might be stuck on blaming yourself on why you were so scared or why it took you so long to reach out for help. However, we are able to reframe our narratives into new ones that show our bravery, our courage and heroism through the darkest of times. Doing so will help us to cope, to not be stuck in victimization, to forgive, to move on and focus on the present.

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Child abuse can happen to any child in any family. If you suspect neglect or abuse please report it to your local child protective services or law enforcement.

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