A Little Girl

I've had this post, along with others about my life, sitting in my Draft folder, for quite awhile. In many ways, I was unsure if I wanted to post and share them, as they
are deeply personal. Part of my soul, part of who I am.

Part of me as always felt that I wasn't very interesting, that I wasn't worthy, that I wasn't deserving, that I wouldn't amount to anything, that I deserved everything I got and other negative crap.

2008, for some reason, was the year in which I began to come to terms with what had happened to me, how it had affected me and who I was. It was my soul-searching year. The year I began to feel comfortable in my skin. The year I began to talk about my past and no longer cared about anybody judging me.

Writing it all down has helped, so I've decided to share those writings. Perhaps with the hope that maybe there are others out there, who have struggled with their past. Who maybe look perfectly confident, happy and normal to those who look at them, but in reality there is this big, painful hole inside. Maybe this will help them. Maybe this will help them realise that they are not alone..



She was a happy little girl. She lived in a nice house, in a quiet street near the river.

Her Mummy and Daddy adored her. In fact, she was even a little spoilt. It didn't matter at all to her, that her Mummy and Daddy were a little older than the other kid's parents. They loved her and she loved them and that's all that mattered.

One day, when she was not quite 7yrs old, she abruptly found herself standing in her Uncle and Aunt's hallway, her suitcases at her feet. People were rushing around her and she had no idea why she was there or even how she had got there. She stood alone, crying quietly for her Mummy and Daddy.

She remembered that her Dad had taken her to school that day, on his way to work, as he usually did.

After school, like she always did, she walked home with the neighbour's kids.

When she went inside, her Mum wasn't waiting with cocoa and biscuits (cookies) like she usually was.

Her Mum was lying on the bed, asleep. She'd been very tired lately.

So, she made herself afternoon tea and played quietly with her dolls in the living room.

When her Dad came home, she told him that her Mum was asleep, so she was being quiet so as not to wake her.

Then her life became confusion.

After awhile, another Aunt took pity on the crying little girl in the hallway.

She explained that the Angels had come and taken her Mummy to heaven, not long after she had gone to school.

She explained that she would now be living with her Aunt, Uncle and little cousin.

She explained that her Mum and Dad were really her Grandparents and that her Aunt, Uncle and cousin were her real Mum, Dad and brother.

The little girl did not understand any of this.

She didn't understand why God needed her Mum more than she did. After all God was a grownup person and old and she was just little and very young.

She didn't understand why her Aunt was telling her that her Mum and Dad weren't her Mum and Dad.

She didn't understand why her Aunt was telling her, that the reason she lived with her Grandparents, was because her real Mum and Dad did not have the room for her.

She did not understand how they had room for her brother. He was younger than her. So how come they didn't have room for her ? Maybe she'd been really, really bad.

Nobody gave her an explanation, so she decided that she must have really been very bad.

That little girl, in the photo above, is me. It's one of the few photos I have of myself as a child. They were taken by my Grandmother and given to me, a few years ago, by my Aunt.


The lady on the right of this photo is my Grandmother, the man on the left, my Grandad.

I will always be grateful to those two wonderful people. They are who I will always think of as my true Mum and Dad.

The unconditional love that they gave me during those short years, gave me the strength to survive what came after. That love, especially that of my Grandmother, got me through that horrible day. I think I sensed that she was there, as I have at other moments of my life, holding me.

I also found out, many years later, that my Grandad had not wanted to give me back to my Mother, that he'd wanted to keep me. That meant a lot.

They both have a very special place in my heart.

The woman in the middle is my Mother. She and I had an extremely complicated relationship. For a long time we have had no relationship at all. That's been by her choice, not mine.

That's a post I'm working on...