Poor Little Girl

I used to feel sorry for her. When I would remember something bad that happened, I would actually think “that poor little girl”. It was sympathy not feelings of empathy. It didn’t upset me. I’m certain it had affects because I live with effects today. I’m consumed most times with reliving and re-questioning different negative events. As if therein lies the answer of went wrong and how to fix it. If I just examine it a little closer. If I can just understand what went wrong and sometimes I wonder if I perhaps explain to the parties involved just where things went wrong, these questions, this obsession will be healed, fixed, and go away…leaving peace and positivity and goodness. At the very least the pain will cease. It was right around of the birth of my first child that I figuratively passed by a mirror one day and no longer saw the “Cecily” I had become, the “Cecily” I thought I was but instead became shockingly aware that the “little girl lost” that poor little girl was me.

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