Dearest Little Me

Going home during any period, especially the holidays, can be as annoying as it is joyous. My family is a true blessing, all six kids being vastly different from one another, bringing their own dynamic to the table which, without their presence, makes the house seem empty and void, lacking the very life that has been for years, my family. One thing I despise about the holidays is watching the videos of Christmas past, when I was in the midst of being sexually abused by my older cousin, a hurting, hopeless little boy. My initial reaction is one of vile distaste. I was mean, spastic, and seeking all the attention, unleashing the monsters inside when I do not get it. I am ashamed of the little boy that I was, the way that I treated my family, and what it was that I allowed to happen to me which tainted my soul.

All of that seems so long ago, and it was, being three quarters of my short life ago. The people in those videos, although with us today, gone so long ago, but a stepping stone to who we have become. A guiding force giving each of us our own path in this world so that we may become who we are destined to be. The physical resemblance there, the being inside still the same, but the outward projection of that being much different than in the past, although still carrying around all the old versions through the relationships we have with them today, hidden in the subconscious. Those people, my family, in all of the past which we have together, are total strangers to me today. Unable to remember their being sixteen, eight, or even four years ago. Only able to know them now, as all their past selves have invariably shaped who they are today, unknowing of who they will become in later moments.

So, I am writing a letter to you, little Charlie. Hurt, scared and confused little Charlie. I have since forgotten who you are and what life was like for you, the way the world around you was shaped in your mind. Most of these memories have been blacked out by my mind, unable to cope with the darkness which resides in those moments. What I do know is that darkness, the insidious pain lurking behind the curtain of your rough exterior. The pain that, at times, seems the only way to get rid of is to give it to someone else. To cast it out into the world around you, letting it latch on to someone else. To exert power and dominance. To bring shame unto others. What I do know is the loneliness, even with all the outer chaos that such a large family will provide. The feeling that nobody will ever be able to know you, to offer companionship, the seepage of your soul through the hopelessness of never being able to receive the gift of relationships which is in us all. The stifling fear of being rejected, of being deemed unlovable by yet another person, furthering the untamable desolation and despair. What I do know is the never ending search for attention, constantly seeking for others approval, dying inside to be important, to matter to someone. I also know how scary and confusing the world seemed to be, how harsh and bitter. How everything seemed threatening, as if the world in it’s entirety were out to get you. I know these things because I too feel these things, the same as you.

I want you to know that I love you. Even saying that feels foreign to me now, the thought of loving oneself in all stages of the process of one’s journey. I love your kindness towards all, hoping to never make anyone feel as you have felt. I love how you used to brush your little sisters hair before school, making sure that she felt safe and protected. I love it when you feel your older brothers pain after he has had a bad day with the kids at school, doing anything to try to make him feel better, to get him to realize that he is loved. I love your care for others, having your mother believe that she was raising a Christian monk. I love your unrelenting curiosity, your devotion to finding out the truth, even if it means taking a stand against the teachers that are meant to guide you in your quest for the knowledge of the world and the way things work. Most of all little Charlie, I love the darkness inside of you, the pat of you that comes out when all seems to be threatened.

I love when you felt your sister’s happiness as threatened, when she didn’t ask mom if she could get a tiny piggy bank at a little store when we were on vacation, causing you to steal two of them. Hoping that one day in the future, you could dump them into her toy box when she has long since forgotten about it, hoping that she would then again be happy and joyous. I love when you would scream at that same cousin who stole your innocence, repeatedly damaging the innate trust in such close relations, trying to assert your dominance over her so that she may never hurt you again. I love when you would do the same with friends, feeling as if your being was at threat of being re-injured, pushing them away as best you knew how. Or, when you would get into legal trouble and you would yell at your mother, unsure why, and feeling like shit about it afterwards, blaming her for the way that you turned out. I love you when you would push your twin brother aside, afraid that he was getting all of the attention, and that you would be left in the dust with no one to care about you. I even love you when you eventually turned to drugs when you were a little bit older, finding an extreme lust towards cocaine. Finally finding something that took away all of the pain, even if it meant taking away everything else. And I love you when you went into that closet for the very first time, unaware of what was going to happen, of how your whole world would be altered by those events, searching for the love which human intimacy provides. I love you when you began to look forward to your times in the closet, feeling special that you were rewarded with such attention, no matter how inappropriate, unable to fully comprehend what was going on.

Simply put, I have love for you during every step of the way on your path to becoming me, especially during those times when you thought you were so unlovable that you not only did not love yourself, but also denied any form of love from anyone else. None of this is your fault, you were such a brave little boy dealing with emotions which were way too powerful and overwhelming. Sitting here now as this version of you, thinking of all that you have been through, tears snaking down my face, I am extremely proud of you. You carried the weight of the world on your shoulders and never told anybody for so long. Your strength is admirable, and I know that I am not the person whom you thought that I would be, but I want you to know that I love you unconditionally, that you are important to me, the center of my whole world. You are a badass, and I wouldn’t be here without you. I pray that the version of us in later moments can love us too, and that you can help guide me to becoming the man that you always hoped that I would be.

With love,

your somewhat older, somewhat wiser self