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Hi Love Bug,

I know sometimes when you have big feelings and scary memories, it can be hard to remember what's real about what's happening right now. I'm writing you this letter for when you feel scared and lost in the twisty roads of memory and want to find your way back home to where we really are now. Our home is a safe, warm, gentle place with just you, me, and our cute little doggy. I hope this letter will help remind you that when you're lost in the deep, dark forest of painful memories that our real life home is a safe place to come for shelter.

Our home is a small, warm nest full of bright colours, soft surfaces, and yummy food. Our home is a safe place to cry, laugh, play music, play games, talk loudly, rest in the quiet, or snuggle under a big warm blanket with our friendly dog. Our home is full of colourful art that was made by hand. Our lamps have light bulbs that were chosen for their soft, warm glow and our fridge and cupboard are stocked with lots of different tasty things to try. Feel free to take as much as you like and eat and drink until you feel full and comfortable.

Your soft penguin plushie can sit next to you in the empty chair at the kitchen table of you ever need some extra company. He can also sit on the window ledge in the bathroom next to the radio when you take a shower. You can play music, dim the lights, and bring your plushie to make showers feel more safe. We can run the water and test the temperature to get it just right before stepping inside the shower and you can wrap yourself in a big, soft towel the moment you step out. Your penguin will be on the window ledge waiting for a big hug as soon as you're ready.

The dresser drawers and bedroom closet are filled with clothes that are all big, loose, and soft. No tight fits, no itchy fabrics, no small sizes. If anything ever feels too tight, we can always go to the store and get a bigger size. I will always be here to remind you that clothes are meant to change to fit us and that we are not meant to change to fit clothes. The mirror on the back of the door is the only mirror in the bedroom and we can open the door all the way and hide it against the wall if you don't want to see it.

On the wall above the dresser, there is a very, very big rainbow flag. Big enough to wrap yourself in or wear as a cape. The rainbow flag means that everyone deserves to love themselves and all of the special people in their lives. It means that everyone is equally lovable even though everyone's body and heart is different and unique. The rainbow flag means that boys can play with Barbies, and girls can play with Hot Wheels, and anyone can wear a dress or not wear a dress depending on how they feel inside.

On our fridge, there are a lot of colourful magnets with different words and pictures on them. Some of the magnets talk about how art is special and important, some of the magnets talk about how girls are smart and strong, and some of the magnets talk about how girls can marry girls and boys can marry boys. Each of the magnets has a special story behind where it came from and how it came to live on our fridge. I would be happy to tell you each magnet's story as many times as you like.

One of the magnets is holding up a list of our house rules that I wrote just for you. This list doesn't talk about chores, or punishments, or anything to be afraid of. It talks about how you are the boss of your body, how no one is allowed to hurt your body or your heart, and how you can always say no to touches you don't like. It talks about how you can always come and ask for a hug, how you can always ask for more to eat, and how you are always allowed to take breaks and ask for help. I know the word "rules" can sound very scary, but I wrote this list to show you that we only have rules that feel good and safe and that we don't have any rules that hurt or feel bad. Rules like that aren't allowed in our home.

I tried to make our home a place that would feel happy and safe. I would love to hear if there are things I can change to make it better that could help you feel even happier and safer. If there's something you don't like or something that scares you, I will always be here to listen so we can fix it and help you feel better. The most important thing I learned as a grown up is that loving someone means caring about how they feel on the inside even when they aren't talking about how they feel out loud. I love you with my whole heart and I feel so honoured when you feel safe enough to tell me when you aren't okay. Our home is for you and you deserve to always feel good here.

So when you get lost in the forest of scary memories, I'll reach out my hand so I can lead you back to our safe home. I'll always be here to make you a tea, and give you a hug, and tuck you into bed.

With all my love,
The Grown Up You Become

Thanks Blueberry 

I'm so sorry your brothers have harmed you in this way Blueberry. I'm glad you know that you're not always at fault, despite what they've been programmed to believe

Thanks so much for your kind comments. I honestly feel crazy when I think about my dad. I don't love him anymore, he's a total monster, he's a violent criminal, and I still want him to have a nice birthday. Like I feel totally insane 

Dad,

You're turning 70 next week and you have no idea where I am. For the last two years, you haven't known where I live, where I work, or even if I'm still alive. No one in our family knows. And you never will again.

You'll never know that I live in your favourite city in the world. I live here because it's my favourite city too - because of you. You'll never know that right now I'm watching the sunset over your favourite landscape and am enjoying the view just as much as you would. You'll never know that my dog, the dog you helped me raise, loves playing in the park near our house and that sometimes I wish you were at the park with us.

You'll never know that when I did art therapy at a women's centre, I wrote a song about you and it was the first song I ever wrote piano accompaniment for. You'll never know that song was about what it was like to finally understand that you never loved me. You'll never know that I listen to that song all the time and that it stops me from calling you.

You'll never know that when the most recent US president was elected, I sat on my kitchen floor at one in the morning and cried because I wished I could call you and hear you comfort me just like you did the first time he was elected. You'll never know that I still miss you telling people you were so proud to have a lesbian daughter - even though I know now that was a lie.

You'll never know that I'm going back to school to become a therapist for women who have survived men like you because there aren't enough therapists who are even aware that men as violent as you exist. You'll never know that I don't blame mom as much as I used to for staying with you even after your sister warned mom about what you did to her when she was little. You'll never know that going through the process of leaving you behind and experiencing how hard that was helped me understand why mom was never able to leave you.

You'll never know that I still miss the beautiful parts of you, even though I know they were never real. You'll never know that I still think you're funny, and adventurous, and brilliant even while I know you're insidious, and monstrous, and diabolical.

You'll never know how hard it was to stop loving you. Because it meant forgiving myself for believing all of your lies.

And you'll never know that in spite of it all, I still want you to have a happy 70th birthday.

Thank you for your support Blueberry. I'm so sorry that you were abused in the same way <3

Thank you so much Dalloway. Thank you for sharing your experience of feeling completely alone and like the world had forgotten about you after being abused. That was exactly how I felt as a child. I'm so sorry you felt the same way growing up. I've also struggled with shame and blame throughout my life. I'm so sorry this has been your experience as well.

As ridiculous as it sounds, the little girl inside me is still afraid that if anyone knows that she was very regularly spanked with all her clothes taken away from the waist down that people will think she's a very bad girl who behaves horribly. As a child, my parents hid from me that I had been diagnosed with autism and they spanked me for doing all of the normal things that autistic children do.

I've struggled all my life with believing I'm a bad person who deserves to be punished and I'm still trying to learn that that isn't true. Learning that I'm autistic and that I was sexually assaulted has really helped with this process.

Thank you so much to you and Kizzie for your replies. This is helping the little girl inside me understand that being spanked doesn't mean that she's a bad girl. It means she had bad parents.

Thank you Kizzie. I've been too ashamed to say this to anyone for about 30 years because like so many people, I grew up hearing my parents say that they had to do this to me because I was so bad and it was my fault. So I never told anyone all the details of what happened because I was ashamed and thought I was dirty and disgusting and that it was my fault.

Now in my adult life, whenever I think I've been very bad, I watch or read porn of women being brutally spanked. Recently there were a few months where I was able to visualize comforting my inner child and imagining that I had adopted her and that was very helpful. But I recently had a relapse where I've gone back to watching the severe spanking videos and I'm really trying to learn that I don't need to be physically or sexually punished whenever I'm not perfect, but it is such a hard mental pathway to break when it's literally beaten into you from childhood.

Thank you so much for creating a space for survivors to share our stories <3

[TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHILD SEXUAL, PHYSICAL & EMOTIONAL ABUSE]

TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHILD SEXUAL, PHYSICAL & EMOTIONAL ABUSE

I've never been able to say the full details of exactly how I was sexually abused in childhood. I've been holding it inside for 30 years and I need to say it now.

I am autistic. What that looks like for me is that my nervous system is like a lightening rod. I cannot cope with life the way other people do. When my fight or flight is activated, I have meltdowns. I scream, I cry, and I definitely cannot reason logically or try to understand other people's intentions. The dial on all of my 5 senses is turned up to a volume that most people will never reach. And submitting my body to being physically controlled or taken over by another person feels like I'm dying.

Both of my parents have Narcissistic Personality Disorder and are likely also sadistic psychopaths. They delight in other people's pain and fear. The greatest pleasure they can experience is the wide smiles and cackling laughs they enjoy when hurting another person. They love hitting and controlling their children and each other. Their greatest joy in life is violating another person, rendering them powerless, and sitting back and laughing at them.

When I was a child, since I was at most 5 and probably before, my parents would grab me, hold both of my arms behind my back, and spank me as hard as they possibly could, only and always on my most sensitive sit spot, usually about 50 times. They did this about once or twice a week from the time I was about 5 until the time I was 12. They only stopped when I was 12 because I got my period.

To justify spanking me, they would provoke me to the point where I had an autistic meltdown. Usually my brother was hitting me or sexually touching me and I told my parents about it. They would tell me I was lying and being a tattle tale. Because I'm autistic, I would scream louder and insist that he really did open my door to look at me naked while I was changing, or sexually assault me, or whip my thighs with the chain of the broken backyard swing, or whatever he had done that time to harm me. My parents would tell me I was lying and that my brother would never do that and that if I kept lying, they were going to spank me.

Because I was an autistic child, I would scream louder and louder that I wasn't lying and scream louder and louder that they couldn't spank me. Then my mom or dad would grab me and start hauling me down to the basement while I screamed at the top of my lungs and physically fought them to get free. My brother would watch and laugh and taunt me and follow us down to the basement so he could watch it happen.

After my parent pulled me to the sofa and sat down, I would physically fight them the entire time they were trying to get me to hold still. I would scream, punch them, scratch them, spit in their face, and do everything I could to beat their hands away me. Sometimes I would manage to fight them off and run away up the stairs and into the bathroom to get myself behind a locked door. I would stay in the bathroom pressing the entire force of my body against the locked door and holding the doorknob lock shut with my hand as my parent screamed, and punched, and kicked, and tried to physically beat the door down. Most of the time once I got myself behind the locked door and pressed it shut with my body, they would only try to beat it down for about half an hour before giving up and I would spend the night sleeping on the bathroom floor until school the next day.

But usually, I was not able to physically fight them off and they would hold me so I couldn't get away. Once I was in position, they would start the spanking. They only ever spanked my sensitive sit spot. Sometimes they would miss and hit me there again to make up for the miss. They would scream about how bad I was and how much they hated me and how much they wished I was dead or never born. Sometimes my father would force me to call him "sir" and say "Sir, yes sir" or "I'm sorry sir." I would always start by refusing to do that and he would scream louder and spank harder until I eventually gave in and called him "sir." My brother would laugh hysterically and point and jump up and down and taunt me while repeating that I was getting a bare bottom spanking.

If I tried to cover my bum, they hit my hand away and spanked me more. Sometimes they would make me count and it was always either to 50 or 100 spanks. I remember getting to 70 and skipping to 90 and hoping they wouldn't notice. Then they would start over and I would end up being spanked 200 times. I would struggle to escape for most of the spanking and they hit me so hard that my body rocked and shook.

By the end of a spanking, my bum felt like it had been set on fire. At the end, my mom or dad would throw me off their lap onto the floor and I'd hit the ground with a thud, sometimes hitting my head. The basement floor was concrete covered by thin carpet. They'd say "Now think about what you've done" and then go back upstairs. My brother would stay behind to jump up and down and point and laugh for a while after my parent had left, but once I was lying still on the floor and just crying, he would quickly get bored and go back upstairs. My bum would hurt so badly that I couldn't move. I would just lie on the sofa on my stomach, alone and in pain, and cry myself to sleep and spend the night in the basement.

About 10 years ago, I was retraumatized by a psychologist who violated my consent during an inner child visualisation exercise. She told me to imagine my adult self going down into the basement, comforting my child self, and then leaving her behind. In the psychologist's office, I cried and said I didn't want to leave my inner child behind. I said I wanted to imagine adopting her and bringing her to the present with me. My psychologist said I couldn't imagine that because if I did, I wasn't accepting what happened and leaving it in the past. At the time, I believed my psychologist and imagined leaving my inner child behind.

Since that day, I've been sexually assaulted by 2 partners, 1 family member, and 2 medical professionals because I was too afraid to say no. For four years, my psychologist slowly trained me to be afraid to say no to authority figures - something I was never afraid to do before. Now when I try to redo the inner child visualisation my way, I flash back to that psychologist and feel guilty even though visualizing rescuing and adopting my inner child helps me feel safe and empowered and helps me have a more integrated, less fragmented sense of self.

Thanks Kizzie 

Thank you NarcKiddo, I really appreciate your comment. I really hadn't considered that possibility before. Thanks for reminding me that I can define and redefine relationship dynamics in a unique way that works for me and the other person or people in the dynamic 

For years I dreamed of fostering and/or adopting from foster care, but unfortunately I had a traumatic brain injury a couple of years ago and now I have extremely poor impulse control and emotional regulation. I was never impulsive or quick to anger in my life and it's been a big adjustment just learning to cope with this. I'm still learning and practicing strategies but my progress is slow. I have also always been quite poor in terms of finances, so realistically, I would not be able to provide a safe and supportive environment for a child. That's been a process to come to terms with as well. But thank you for trying to help find solutions and showing support Kizzie, I really appreciate it.

Thank you so much Dalloway. Yes, you hit the nail on the head; that's pretty much exactly how I feel about my father. The relationship I thought we had was beautiful and worth fighting to save, but the man he told me he was never really existed at all. When I decided to go no contact, I thought "In order to stay alive, I need to love myself. But I can't love him and me. Because loving him is being unloving to me."

And in the end I chose me and that saved me so that I was able to have genuinely beautiful and healthy relationships with other people who are kind and real.

Thank you for reading 

I've been writing songs for over 20 years, but I almost never share them with anyone. Last year, I shared a song I wrote at a women's centre group therapy meeting for survivors of child abuse. The other members of the group therapy were moved by the song, but only 6 people at the women's centre and one of my best friends have ever heard it. These are the lyrics to the song. I hope it finds someone who needs it.

Former Daddy's Girl

I was a daddy's girl
He pushed me on my swing
Told me about astronauts
And listened to me sing

I was a daddy's girl
His dream was to fly
And I wanted to watch him
Soar across the sky

He told me that he loved me
And I always believed it
He told me when he hurt me
He couldn't control it
I'd never let another man treat me that way
But I was a daddy's girl
So I looked the other way

He said the reason why
He threw me on the floor
Was just the brandy, no
He wouldn't do it anymore

I'd climb the tree out back
Look up at all the planes
For college I flew five hours
To be somewhere I was safe

He told me that he loved me
And I always believed it
He told me when he hurt me
He couldn't control it
I'd never let another man treat me that way
But I was a daddy's girl
So I looked the other way

He finally got his plane
I never watched him fly
In all those years he'd done too many things to make me cry
And in that final year
Before I left for good
I let go of the man I thought I knew in my childhood

He told me that he loved me
And I didn't believe it
I knew that when he hurt me
He could've controlled it
I'll never let any man treat me that way
Now I'm not a daddy's girl
I won't look the other way

Now I'm not a daddy's girl
I won't look the other way